ALWAYS A CHAIR, NEVER A TABLE

[d4rkpassengerz]

( #𝐃𝟒𝐑𝐊𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐙 ) An independent, plot-based and HIGHLY selective portrayal of 𝐃𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐍, as seen on Showtime Television. Butchered by Gray ( he/him. 19+ ). An intensive dive into the depravity of mankind, complex moral dilemmas, and governing instincts with stern codes. Dead Dove Do Not Eat.

Please read the rules & bio segments of the 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐃 before interacting. Note that this portrayal follows the first four seasons of the show, with influences from Early Cuts, Original Sin and, lightly, the original book series.

. . . This blog also features 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐑 & 𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐘 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 as side muses. Any unspecified asks/ starters will be presumed for Dexter, and the blog's primary focus will be him.

. Drafts: 65 /. Q: 00 /. Inbox: 36 /. Activity: Spotty. .

MEMES. HCS. WISHLIST. PERMANENT INTERACTION CALL.

mains: @crownedinsin + @paralyziingfears ... blogroll.

[d4rkpassengerz]

BLOGROLL.

edited jan 5, 2026

high activity:

@po1zn : gero hikaru, marriagetoxin. @esoter1cz : bakura ryou, yu-gi-oh: duel monsters.

medium activity:

@vi4torz : reinterpretation of aether, genshin impact.

low activity:

@aston1sh1ng : Scott Lang, 616 marvel comics & integrated into dc. @hatt1tude : oc multimuse with a central character, original lore. @uplus003f : Edward Nygma, dc.

lethally low activity:

@bullsh1tterz : adam faulkner-stanheight, saw. @ca1nsheresy : gabriel john utterson, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde hiatus @should1st4yz : Jonathan Byers, Stranger Things. @d4rkpassengerz : Dexter Morgan + Brian Moser & Joey Quinn, Dexter. @d1rtgrubz : Charlie Kelly, It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia. @heywestcov1na : Greg Serrano, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. @4o77 : Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, M*A*S*H. @hkmpf1ve : kang no-eul, squid game. @lili3z : park min-su, squid game. @cr4zedgunz : adrian chase, peacemaker/ dcu.

[d4rkpassengerz]

Spoilers for Dexter: Resurrection but god I do just love how Harry is initially a representation of both the code and human consciousness, coming off as more of a police force true to what he used to be like with Dexter, but has now become more of a stand-in for his conscience. This isn't the same Harry. He's fatherhood and empathy now. Dexter's speaking to him more casually this time around and it's funny to think he doesn't realize it's his own guilt talking him down like that.

[paralyziingfears]

[  ....  ]                        lila  always  enjoyed  having  brian  just  like  this.  naked,  bare,  underneath  her.  she  knew  it  never  lasted  for  long,  though.  the  constant  fight  for  dominance  and  power  between  them  was  enough  to  light  a  roaring  and  deadly  fire,  one  that  lila  wasn't  afraid  to  reach  out  and  touch,  feel.  she  loved  to  see  just  how  close  she  could  get  to  brian's  fire  without  getting  burned,  mostly  because  he  continued  to  challenge  her  despite  her  misbehavior  or  disobedient  attitude  at  times.  she  wasn't  afraid  to  test  him,  to  push  him,  just  so  she  can  see  just  how  far  he  was  allowing  her  to  go.

lila  was  straddling  @d4rkpassengerz,  hands  placed  on  his  broad  chest  with  her  fingernails  subtly  imprinting  into  his  flesh.  she  cants  her  head,  a  sly  smirk  playing  on  her  lips  as  she  mesmerized  the  lines  in  his  face,  ❝  you  know,  i  could  easily  kill  you  right  now  ...  ❞  she  whispered  with  a  silky  voice,  palms  sliding  from  his  chest  to  clasp  around  his  neck  but,  fairly  loosely,  just  wanting  to   —   test  him.

❛  you?  kill  me?  that's  funny.  ❜

a  chuckle  emits  from  lila's  lips,  leaning  down  to  press  her  lips  against  his  ear,  ❝  do  you  trust  me  ...  ?  ❞

[d4rkpassengerz]

He lets her come impossibly close to him - trickle words right into the graze of his ear - and FIGHTS the urge to close his eyes. Not yet. Not today. This moment, he only allows himself a lean. A minute sway of shoulder to keep her weight steady on his form, and fingers used for cutting fiddling with the tips of her dark, DARK hair.

"Of course." As much as a kitten can trust its lunch. POISON is always a silent threat, but with every bite and long, grueling chew, the trust simmers and lasts until the meal is well-consumed. He trusts Lila, because the proverbial SCALPEL keeping distance between them, however she may endeavor to stray his way, keeps him steady.

In fact, it keeps him CONFIDENT. In some lethal sense of knowing that though he may extend the courtesy of TRUST today, he is quicker to breach it than any man in his standing can. She gets to stay there, untouched. But the minute he senses a shift ... well, he's always thought windows were meant to be broken and lunged beyond. Her misbehavior only beckons him to peer through, for now. A show to be watched and, somewhere within those quiet depths of him, EMBRACED. Cautiously, with no sign of dropping guard.

He takes her hand, pulling it from where it lies on his neck so fingertips snake their way along its form, landing more accurately on throat with chance to sink their nails. "I'd trust ya with a knife to my throat." He says, thumb caressing circles 'round that hand. " ... but I'm not so sure you should do the same."

[paralyziingfears]

[  ....  ]                 lila  matched  brian's  dark,  cold  gaze  with  her  own  longing,  gullible  one.  as  much  as  she  fantasized  brian,  allowing  her  lust  and  obsession  to  cloud  her  judgement  and  the  toxic  truth  of  what  their  relationship  is  like,  she  knew  behind  those  deadly  eyes  that  she  could  never  fully  trust  @d4rkpassengerz.  he  did  make  it  easy,  though,  to  let  her  feel  she  can  bring  her  guard  down.  she  chuckled  sarcastically  at  his  words,  canting  her  head  with  her  brows  raised  inquisitively,  ❝  i  hadn't  thought  that  until  you  colored  me  a  deadly  picture.  now  m'  not  so  sure  m'  willing  to  try  your  little  experiment  ❞  she  responded,  still  grinning  despite  her  words.  the  game  they  played  was  a  careful  game  of  chess,  it  felt  like,  and  she  was  addicted  to  it.  she  was  addicted  to  the  not  knowing,  the  adrenaline  he  continuously  made  her  feel,  the  fear  that  overtook  her  every  time  they  were  together.  the  mention  of  debra  changed  her  tune  a  bit;  annoyed,  jealous.  she  rolled  her  eyes  aggressively,  ❝  must  you  bring  up  that  woman  ?  ❞  she  sighed  deeply,  but  instantly  distracted  from  her  insane  jealously  when  he  reaches  and  caresses  her  lip  with  his  thumb.  she  turns  slightly  to  bite  down  just  a  bit  on  his  thumb,  giggling  a  bit,  ❝  fine.  but,  would  it  be  so  terrible  if  you  cooked  something  only  for  my  beautiful  mouth  ?  ❞  she  stated  then  amuses  him  by  taking  the  small  bite  he  offered.  she  chews,  deliberates,  and  moans  at  the  wonderful  taste  coating  her  mouth  and  tickling  her  tastebuds.  ❝  now  that  is  something  to  die  for,  brian.  ❞

[d4rkpassengerz]

Clay loses its purpose upon hardening. As long as it remains loose and delicate to the touch, it can be MOLDED to its holder's content - shaped and scraped around the edges beyond recognition.

LILA WEST happens to come in his favorite color. WORN VELVET. Bold, yet missing just enough saturation to ever truly STING the eyes upon contact. Something not so boring as to be benign, but not yet alluring enough to be declared a THREAT. He must let her simmer, observe the minuscule bumps pale skin makes as it gently kneads the surface to the shape of his fingertips.

It would be a shame, Brian thinks, to let futility befall such magnificent clay.

But a BUMP never hurts, and so he POKES. With a smile so SWEET you'd think him nestled in the clouds of heaven itself. "And why would I do that?" Tilt of head, CHALLENGE to voice something with the blatant threat to tear it into the littlest of pieces. He'd do it one by one, with a scalpel in one hand and some cotton in the other.

[griefseason]

she watches him far too closely for just a girl working at her parents store. no , she watches him like his opinion on that bread is going to mean something monumental. there is so much focus in love's gaze that she doesn't even notice how she's leaned in &* mimicked his expression like she's the one trying the bread herself for the first time. she wants to understand -- to replicate what he is feeling so that she herself can grasp his true opinion. DIFFICULT TO JUDGE , THIS ONE. something about his demeanor feels ... well , it leaves her dissatisfied without really knowing why. nothing malicious comes to mind , just that nagging feeling that if it were truly magical , he'd be on his knees in praise. ( * PERFECTIONIST ! )

❛   fancy . . . but not it. ❜ she tsks gently as she leans back &* squints at him , gaze flickering over him quickly as if trying to get a read on him. ❛ savory or sweet ? which do you prefer ?   ❜

[d4rkpassengerz]

TO TELL OR NOT TO TELL. Always the question with the blood brothers. Hum, hum, hum. Keep it long. Stretch it for its worth and appear CONTEMPLATIVE - maybe even HESITANT, simple Rudy Cooper. Perhaps she's deserving of some truth, this alluring Love Quinn. To spot a smidgen of what's beneath his mask is to earn the privilege of his respect.

He looks at her as though to say please don't hate me, though he knows she wouldn't dream of it. Not when he is the gentle prosthetist with eyes so earnest, sweet and now so profoundly SAD.

" ... Honestly?" The word is foreign, yet swift on his silver tongue. Practiced, though this time around there may lie truth in it yet. "I can't answer that one without lying. I - well, I haven't had an appetite for anything for a very long time. Almost ... too long." Background is not hers to have, not yet. Hope is instead tossed like the afterthought that it is, though it's wrapped in the neat scent of despair for her to cling to. Poor, poor him. Whatever might have happened to prompt such dismay. Such aversion to the most basic of needs? His wound is open, crimson pouring. The unspoken question is whether she'll thread the needle and stitch it shut. "I don't want it to be that way, but it is ... I'm sorry. After you went through all that effort to share, I didn't want it to seem like you were wasting your time."

[odditymuse]

Can you phone them? Kurt froze a moment. Looked down at his satchel, knew his phone was in there. Knew his fathers number still resided in his contacts. Knew it would be useless to dial that number ever again. Felt it convulse in his chest as his eyes stayed glued downwards for much too long a time. The cop would know, he'd be able to tell. He's a professional, after all, Kurt can't just lie here -- "I-I don't --. . . I can't. I'm here alone. I can't call them because there's no one to call." He finally admit, never looking back up. Feeling it twist like a knife right through his heart as he finally admit those words out loud. He had no one. . .

[d4rkpassengerz]

The rabbit has lost its herd and stumbled into the lion's den. The lion, it seems, is the only one with the privilege of choice. Eat the rabbit whole, abandon it, or cradle it as though you could ever substitute for one of its own.

Dexter believes he is a man of reason, even at his worst. That, tangentially, is true. But what REASON entails might sometimes evade him in the realm of HUMAN CONVENTION. What should and shouldn't be done to offer comfort, an instinct he severely lacks.

To watch the boy in such a vulnerable state does little to move his sentiment, yet it instills something. A responsibility. A FIRM DECISION to take charge and rescue the little rabbit. It doesn't deserve to go through what he had. Doesn't deserve to risk becoming him.

"Okay." He says, breathing deeply from his nose. "I'm done with my work here. Wait a moment. Don't move." It's a firm order, though he slights it with a concerned web to better cradle the boy's reservations. "I'm going to talk to Detective Batista over there about taking you to the station. You'll be safe there, and you can tell me why it is that you're alone."

[crownedinsin-a]

Lucifer immediately likes her based on her reaction to his name. She's already far more entertaining than her serial killer father figure. Perhaps children aren't all that bad. A laugh falls from his lips. "Mhm, my father isn't a fan of me." Small bit of an understatement given his circumstances, but still not really a lie. "What's your name? Can it compete with 'Lucifer'?"

Bishop, meanwhile, has taken interest in Dexter. She sits in front of him, eyes curious. Her head tilts to one side and then the other, trying to make sense of the energy radiating from this human. She moves closer, sniffing him. He's bound for Hell.

"Looks like she's a fan of you." Lucifer comments, dragging himself away from the conversation. "Lucky you, once Bishop becomes attached, it's hard to get rid of her."

[d4rkpassengerz]

A FAN of him. More DISTURBING to Dexter than being chased. To be liked by something is to either TRICK it, which he cannot a dog, or to have something for it to RESONATE with. It's odd at best, and adds to his suspicion of Lucifer a heap.

"... Well, that's not good." He tries to keep his voice up to the MASK's standards, giving Astor a glance and a smile before he gestures to his car. "Come on, let's go." He gives Lucifer a look - it's blank, really, but there's something hard to read behind it. Astor is quick to speak, though.

"Uhmm, where are we going, though?" Home, he'd hoped. But the way she turns to Lucifer tells him it won't be that easy. "What didya have in mind?"

[qapsiel]

                           THE SPEECH PATTERN OF YOUNG HUMANS IS HARD TO UNDERSTAND SOMETIMES, mainly because Castiel doesn't interact with them a lot. He never had any reason to; they're largely uninteresting for Heaven's plans, and it's frowned upon among the Heavenly Host to take a child vessel under the age of five. So Castiel appreciates Dexter's translation, and he also appreciates the compliment.

                            Looking at his trench coat and smoothing a hand over the fabric, a hint of a smile can be seen. "Thank you, Harrison," he says very seriously, "I like this coat quite a lot." It has amazing pockets. Pockets that hold candy for whenever Dean's blood sugar gets too low and the hunter too cranky to deal with. Castiel finds a Hershey's kiss. "Can he already eat this?"

[d4rkpassengerz]

Dexter watches keenly as the other interacts with his son. It's like a TEST. So far, he's passing, especially with how casually he speaks to Harrison. No demeaning baby-talk or assumption that he's too simple to understand. Earnest words, from what Dexter can tell. That counts for something, intense as his STUDIOUS gaze may be right now.

"Well, I try not to introduce caffeine to his diet often, but ... " He looks the thing over. Small enough. "Let him decide if he wants it." He takes a step forward, putting Harrison within reach of the chocolate. "What do you think, Harrison?"

The answer comes in the form of a babble and a grasp at the Hershey's kiss, five little fingers wrapping around it until it's secure. Dexter smiles. "Guess that's a yes." He looks back to Furtado. "Thanks, man. Sorry for the, uh, inconvenience, I guess." Gaze returns to Harrison, SOFTENING. "Not too sorry."

[paralyziingfears]

[  ....  ]                lila  was  deeply  and  darkly  enthralled  by  brian  and  who  he  was.  there  was  a  cold,  lingering  darkness  about  @d4rkpassengerz  that  terrified  her;  not  only  because  she  was  afraid  what  he  might  do  to  her  or  what  he  was  thinking  but  she  was  self-aware  enough  to  realize  that  that  same  darkness  he  held  matched  her  own.  she  wasn't  sure  what  emotions  he  experienced,  if  any  at  all,  but  she  knew  she  could  be  obsessive  and  possessive,  wanting  to  mark  her  territory  and  hurt  anyone  that  might  get  in  her  way;  even  if  that  may  be  the  person  she  so  desired.

so,  yes,  every  time  she  gazed  into  brian's  eyes,  she  felt  a  sense  of  terror  wash  over  her,  consuming  her  thoughts.  and  yet,  she  couldn't  tear  herself  away  from  him.  was  it  because  of  dexter?  or  was  it  because  she  was  lusting  after  the  wrong  brother?  she  swallowed  thickly  out  of  pure  nervousness,  unable  to  tear  away  her  gaze  from  him  as  he  speaks  and  twirls  a  strand  of  her  hair.  she  feels  herself  frozen  in  place,  too  scared  to  move  because  she  might  make  the  wrong  move.  the  last  thing  she  wanted  to  do  was  upset  him.  her  teeth  sunk  into  her  bottom  lip,  holding  in  her  breath,  ❝  do  you  want  to  ?  hurt  me  ?  ❞  she  asked,  barely  above  a  whisper,  a  shakiness  to  her  voice.  ❝  truthfully,  if  you  were  to,  m'  not  sure  how  i  feel  'bout  that  ...  ❞  she  added.

[d4rkpassengerz]

Soft, soft. In his cruelty, everything BRIAN MOSER does is painfully soft. Implications, he finds, THREATS all bundled up into a gentle graze against skin over bone, are much more satisfying to produce than physical harm. Indeed, it wouldn't be wise to spare Lila the troubles of being alive. It wouldn't be all too precious, that way, not as much as drinking the solid gold inflection of her gaze and the tremor in her whisper. She's one of those you keep. To watch, to taunt, and deep within him he very well knows it's to ENJOY.

"Well, isn't that the question of the week." Smile is wide, sure in itself, curled like a snake's skin as it sheds. "I don't know, Lila. You tell me. Do you think I want to hurt you?" His cold, dark eyes following the trail of her form would suggest he does. He's telling her, with every fabric of his collected countenance, that he wants to HURT HER. But that he won't. It would be too simple to do, dearest Lila. Simple isn't right. Simple is boring. And he doesn't like to be bored.

[4o77]

[ #4O77 ] An independent, mutuals-only portrayal of M*A*S*H's very own prankster - meets - surgeon : BENJAMIN FRANKLIN "HAWKEYE." PIERCE.  A study in post - traumatic stress, coping through juvenile humor, and the never-ending battle against The Man. As stitched up by Gray ( he/him, 19+ )  

[godstrayed]

　　𝑨𝑻 𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑷𝑶𝑰𝑵𝑻, 𝑯𝑬 𝑩𝑬𝑮𝑨𝑵 𝑻𝑶 𝑺𝑼𝑺𝑷𝑬𝑪𝑻 𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑫𝑵’𝑻 𝑫𝑰𝑬.  And not in the poetic sense; in the godless way that worms keep living long after they've been spilt in two. Stabbed. Violated. Puppeted and paraded around inside his own mind like a carcass full of wires. And yet still breathing. 

⸻Maybe he mistook that for invincibility.

Now, here, in the cold, rust-wet dark he realizes he’s miscalculated again. The trap was more literal this time. But still a game & a body lies between them. Or beside them. He can’t tell anymore. It’s hard to look away from the flickering monitor, the voice on the tape, the pressure in his skull.

He deserves a choice, the voice had said. Choice. What a cruel fiction that was. Every moment of his life had been orchestrated, maneuvered, warped by hands he couldn’t see. Hannibal. Jack. God. Himself. And he should save himself first. That would be rational. That would be fair. But Will Graham doesn’t get to be fair. He gets to be responsible.

"Let’s break out of these chairs. We will both find our keys."

Where is his key? Where is his strength? ᅳ The chair groans beneath him. He shifts; violent, sudden. Like an animal throwing itself against its cage. The legs snap. Wood and rust scream as the structure collapses into splinters. The ropes strain. Then loosen. His breath catches in his throat. His hands claw at the bindings, and he feels them give way.

ᅳᅳ Key, find the key!

[d4rkpassengerz]

When the recorder plays, Dexter shows no sign of DISTRESS. That is, simply, because he doesn't bother with fretting. If it came to be that he had to die at the hands of another monster, the only feeling present - if he were ever to have one - is a simmering JEALOUSY at not being on the other end. Killing killers belonged to him. The perfect irony of that fate would be both EARNED and rather HUMILIATING. He wouldn't want it, but his fate lies in the hands of a man he is yet to know.

He decides, in the moment he is saved, that the now-named WILL is a good man at heart. Harry's CODE is not for him. But when they are free and ready to pounce, it is for the man who DARED confine him like it was ever ALLOWED. A new mark. A new start. His focus, which already falls so precise, is doubled.

"Thank you." He says, gathering the tape at his feet and placing it into the television with the assumption that Will would have already begun digging into the corpse. The CORPSE which he now recognizes as ALAN WAKE - a STOLEN plaything of his own, ROBBED so viciously from his table. This is personal, now. His possessions are not to be trifled with.

The tape plays, and he heads to the body in steady calm, readying himself.

Hello, Dexter Morgan.  I know you’re fond of full names, but you won’t be getting mine. If you’re listening to this, then Will has made his choice. It’s in your favor, but was it in his? … You share your companion’s device, but your key lies in what you’ve always curbed. Find it before the timer runs out, then make a choice of your own. I’d tell you what it is, but you like puzzles so I’ll hint instead: your companion has a keen psyche, and you won’t stay unobserved for long.   Sorry for the theft, Dexter, but you’d better hurry. There’s not much time left. There are choices to make.

Curbed. An organ. A knowing look exchanged, then a mirthless one given Graham. There is one part of Dexter that will always remain out of function - as far as he believes. THE HEART.

[d4rkpassengerz]

Some stuff are in queue and good ol' deadly Brian is on the mind. Let me send you some memes from him! Just hit the heart.

[d4rkpassengerz]

Some stuff are in queue and good ol' deadly Brian is on the mind. Let me send you some memes from him! Just hit the heart.

[rebeals]

@d4rkpassengerz : ∗ 33﹕ sender  hovers  over  receiver’s  shoulder  as  they  complete  a  task .

VISITING unsightly sites in complete solitude was not out of the ordinary for the investigator. He preferred to work alone if he had the choice to do so. The absence of company often gave him far more freedom when investigating. No one was there to interrupt him, or tamper with the crime scene. Incompetence was a quality that he couldn’t stand in others. Incapable of completing the task properly, they were nothing more than a burden in his eyes — deadweight. Besides, working on his own accord meant he wouldn’t be met with criticism towards his methods. Not a soul there to bother him, to call his ways unorthodox or ridiculous. He was free to do as he pleased without people around. 

But he wasn’t alone at the moment. 

SUDDENLY hyper aware of the presence hovering behind, brought him out of his thoughts. Eyes immediately abandoned the ghastly scene of gore and what he assumed were remains of a struggle between a perpetrator and their victim. His head whipped around, and fingers wrapped around the handle of his cane tighter as if to steady himself. “Oh- what the fuck, are you trying to send me to an early grave?” heart hammered against his chest, taken aback by the sight of the other man. Had he been paying more attention, he would have noticed HIM, hovering. Watching. “Don’t look at all that… it’s a little gnarly.”

[d4rkpassengerz]

Oh how pretty an early grave would be. The thought is pleasant, tickling the gentle countenance of the LETHAL BROTHER like a sweet scent in the breeze. The smile is blatant, but he gives it an affectionate edge fashioned purely to FOOL. As far as his companion should believe, Brian RUDY COOPER's mirth comes from seeing him. A sentiment rooted in EARNEST friendship and INNOCENT curiosity.

"I work in prosthetics, remember?" He gives a tilt of head, dismissive hand flicked up then settling over the investigator's shoulder. "Nothing I haven't seen before, man." A beat, calculated, but not so much that it would be clocked. "Besides, I saw you going in and figured you might want some company to keep you steady. What with how terrible this all looks." A smile veering on innocence, offered WARM and pretty like the center of a rainbow. "You shouldn't be alone so much, you know."

[d4rkpassengerz]

what if you wrote with me on discord, huh? WHAT IF-

[d4rkpassengerz]

[griefseason]

joe's gaze lingers , trailing after the other as he moves around , admiring the craftsmanship of the glass cage. it's a thing of beauty &* darkness -------- a controlled environment once used for punishment that joe himself controls now. he knows the ins &* outs of this box better than he knows his own apartment. no one could trap him in here the way he could trap them. cat &* mouse ; rigged in the end.

❛   it was built for handling money safely. once you're in here , the door locks from the outside. that little window only opens from one side. ❜

he walks over to it , opening up the interior door before pushing on the side dexter's on to show how is does not budge. ❛   my step father owns this place. he was a former russian soldier , so ... his methods are pretty intense. i don't see why a lockbox isn't adequate , but ... well , his store , his rules. if anyone is coming to buy one of our special editions , all money is handled here. ❜ not lies ---- half truth. they rarely sell those books. this place is a cage for joe &* mooney himself ; those with ... predispositions that needed to be disciplined. it has been so very long since he was put in here ---- he does not need it anymore. but one day he would find someone who did. maybe he could pass on the wisdom of it's confinement.

[d4rkpassengerz]

Dexter takes his time, hollow hazels spraying their death-driven gaze across every inch of the enclosure as though to melt it. A glass box that doesn't break. A perfect CONFINEMENT CHAMBER. It's a little alluring, as much as it echoes terrors of old in the back of his mind. Harry slides into his subconscious to remind him that the MASK must not express too much of that awe. Be impressed, but steady.

"A lockbox isn't foolproof." He reasons, turning to Joe. "This, though." He thinks for a moment. Could one ever enter without a key? No. Wouldn't be able to leave, either. "I imagine no amount of kicking and slamming could make the glass budge, yes?" He forces an awkward expression after that, a sheepish smile curled onto stone lips. "Weird question, sorry. It's - " Little shrug, hand moved to the back of his neck. "I spend most of the time away from my kids working so my mind just works this way." Two things that are separately true coiled and twisted into false causation. "Even my foster father was a police officer, so it kind of ... chases me." Shame is infused into the plastic smile, eyes following suit. "Weird. I know."