The Third froze mid-struggle. His eyes darted everywhere, panicked and confused, unsure whether agreeing or lying would get him killed faster.
"…N-no?" he squeaked.
The tendrils tightened. Bones creaked.
"YES! YES, FINE! I AM!" he screamed. "I trap! I trap people! That's my job, damn it! I make little spaces, I torture people inside them, I laugh. Some die. Some don't. What the fuck do you want from me?!"
Damon smiled. "So then let's talk about what is or who is waiting for me outside this dimensional fragment? What would I be walking into when I use that portal?"
The Third went dead still. Even bound like a pig and half-crushed by tendrils, his face drained to a sickly gray. His eyes darted toward the swirling exit as if it were the maw of some ancient beast waiting to swallow him whole.
"…W-waiting?" he croaked. "What do you mean by waiting? No one's waiting! Why would anyone be waiting?! I didn't call anyone!"
The tendrils squeezed. CRACK.
