𝙸𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝙸𝚝 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜, 𝚁𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐?

|𝟜| 𝕊𝕥𝕚𝕝𝕝 ℍ𝕖𝕣𝕖

Trigger warnings: Slight panic attack, injuries, swearing, flashbacks

     The walls of his cells were light grey, the floor was cold, and George was not enjoying the creepy vibes it practically radiated. There was only two items of furniture; the pathetic little bed and the beyond suspicious wooden chair sitting in the middle of the room. The door to the bathroom was pure steel but lacked a lock, for whatever security reason. One of the walls was bars, spaces in between too thin for George to slip through. Not that he could, Dream was standing guard to make sure he didn't try anything anyways. There was also the absolutely lovely cameras that were stationed in every corner, swivelling to focus on every tiny movement.

     In short, not exactly a five-star hotel.

     He was currently sprawled across the chair, leaning quite precariously backwards. The handcuffs restricted him from sitting however he wanted, so he had to settle for draping his arms behind the back. Dream glanced over his shoulder at him multiple times, fidgety and tense in the presence of the villain.

    "Why're you so nervous?" George purred in a singsong voice. He tilted his head to the side, a gesture that would've been cute if it hadn't been for his evil little smirk. It took Dream a couple of moments to collect his thoughts before he could respond.

    "I'm not. I'm surprised you're so at ease." He shrugged, a wasted movement as Dream couldn't see him. The security whirred as it focused on him.

    "Eh. What's there to be scared of? You?" He was playing. Playing with Dream, and they both knew it. It was too appealing for Dream not to take the bait, though.

    "That's funny! Last time I checked—" His voice got significantly lower— "You're behind bars and I'm in charge." George giggled nervously as Dream turned to face him, smiley face mask looking oddly threatening.

     "Damn... Alright then, mister-in-charge, how 'bout you let me go? It's not very nice to lock people up without their consent." Dream smiled from under his mask. George wasn't so cocky now. 

     "Of course... Not. You can't escape." George's demeanour was way too calm, collected, for the situation he was in. Seriously, does he ever falter?

      "Aw, Dreamie! You really think I'm trapped here?" If Dream was being honest, all of his confidence in keeping George in his cell had dissipated like fog in the morning sun. He exhaled.

     "I sure hope so. If you could leave, why would you still be here?" George went silent. Why was he still here? He knew Dream was much stronger than him, but realistically it would only take one well-placed hit to take him out, one that wouldn't be the most difficult task to complete. The handcuffs were no problem, and the cameras could be destroyed in a flick of his hand. So why did he feel like staying for the time being?

     "I'm not sure..." His voice was soft, vulnerable. Dream hated it more than the arrogant tone he had been using mere moments ago. Where was the villain who loved to mess with him? "I do know that I won't be here for much longer. So talk to me, I probably won't see you again... At least, not in a non-hostile meeting."

    Dream sighed, ignoring the steady thump thump of his heart beating in his ears. "Alright."

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

   "You—" Dream made a noise similar to a deranged witch wheezing. "You jumped? Off of building? And you said 'I don't care' right before almost dying? Oh my god—" He broke off into a fit of choked, breathless laughs, doubling over. George couldn't help but join him.