Gabriel wasn't sure how this was even happening— how his men had let this happen. All he knows is that it's dark, his wrists are cutting from the cuffs and it's been at least a day.
His mind is a bit fogged, probably from the beatings he's been taking, and he knows when gets out of here he's gonna give his men the same treatment, if not worse.
This whole situation could have been so easily avoided, and the longer he sits here and thinks about that, the angrier he gets, and there's no outlet so he's stuck stewing in rage until he gets the hell beaten out of him again.
He may want to rip his men apart, but he isn't weak enough to give up any information.
Suddenly, there's a small click, and he tips his head towards the door across from his chair, preparing for another session. His lip feels split from earlier in the day, and he hopes it won't be too bad this time.
Rather than the large, burley man who he's come to know and hate entering the room, it's a pleasant surprise of none other than his favorite kitty, "and how did you get in here, kitten?"
Conan gives a sweet smile and cocks his head, "you know I have my ways, daddy."
He looks gorgeous; legs on display because of his tiny shorts, though they're covered in fishnets, if only to give Gabriel a heart attack. His lips are glossed a shiny pink and Gabriel already feels weak with that smile aimed at him.
While dating isn't so much what they would use to describe their relationship, that's really only for the sake of not looking weak to the people who are watching them.
No one knows how weak Gabriel is for Conan, except Conan.
And based on the fact that the pretty kitten has just waltzed into the room like it's no big deal, it kind of feels like maybe he's a bit weak for Gabriel too.
"Hm," he sighs, eyes stuck on Conan's twitching ears— obviously excited to see him again, and making his chest puff out in pride, "what did you do, baby?"
Conan's pink tail wraps cutely around his own thigh and he pouts a bit, "you won't like this part."
Gabriel just raises an eyebrow, and Conan sighs, rolling his eyes.
"I had to tell the leader— you know, the big guy, black hair?" He asks, and Gabriel nods, very aware of the man who's been torturing him. "Well, I told him I wanted to be allies; to help him crack the mafia leader. That I could get you to spill."
Gabriel snorts, "why would he agree to that?"
It may not be common knowledge that Gabriel and Conan are fucking— Gabriel's men all know, at least— but he thought it had been rather obvious that his own gang works closely with Conan's.
Seems as if this man is as stupid as Gabriel first thought— capturing the leader of a successful gang and then enlisting his kind of boyfriend as an accomplice to help break him?
Fucking idiot.
"Well, I may have insinuated he could fuck me if he let me in here to speak with the great leader who went and got himself kidnapped," Conan shrugs, and Gabriel's hands clench behind him, still locked together.
"That ain't happening," he says, flat and even. The idea of Conan with anyone is enough to have anger flaring hot inside of him, but the man who had to drug him and tie him up to feel tough? He's seething.
Conan nods, noticing his anger easily enough, quickly shaking his jacket pocket, a jingling sound muffled as he adds, "but I brought the key to those— and he'll be dead before he gets the chance to have me."
