where: a basement, somewhere when: sometime after the seance who: closed for @asteriadawson
Jack was tired. The days were yawning on and he spent them in a mixed flurry of rage and despondency. Fate taunted him with the truth - with face and names and proof- but he could do nothing. He’d near rubbed his wrists raw trying to shimmy out of his shackles. Nothing. He would waste away in this hole of a basement before he saw any answers.
The one watching him currently was another blonde - this one new time him. She was smaller and more afraid then some of the other witches. It took a moment but a drunken memory tugged at him and he let out a raspy chuckle. “You’re the one from the bar, ain’t ya. With the hanky- I got that right?” He coughed then sat up straighter. “Who’da thunk you’d be a fucking witch.” He shook his head. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a cruel one-yet-here we are.” He made as if to widen his arms but they clinked on shackles. “Why you here, girl? Looking to become a tortureress?”