#fightleft

[stilledlife]

@fightleft

there is a man standing in a room.

it's not a very impressive room—a mid-sized space with plain, off-white walls. columns without any decoration stretch up to a ceiling that truly does not require the extra support. it could have been nearly anything: a boardroom, an add-on to a church, a destitute art gallery.

yes, gallery is likely the most accurate description, as the man is standing in front of the one thing on the walls: a framed painting.

the painting is not particularly large, nor is it particularly striking. one could describe it as a landscape of a sort, rendered in deep, dull, depressing colors. a rocky island sitting atop a motionless sea, bearing a copse of nearly-black trees encircled by cliffs.

the man observing it seems strikes quite a contrast with it, the deep blue of his suit drawing the eye to him, rather than the piece of artwork. it is unclear how he could have arrived in this room without the person approaching now noticing him before. there is only one entryway—this room is a dead end.

at the sound of footsteps, stefano turns away from the painting, directing his attention to the new arrival.

"what a surprise." he smiles in a way that is supposed to be welcoming. "i was under the impression that i was the only soul here."

[bloodiedpetals]

@fightleft ⛧︎ liked

Whispers of one created by her hand in the Burning Hells reached her quickly. Though she was bound to this place as a prisoner by her father, there were those who still maintained LOYALTY to Lilith. Those brave enough would fed her any outside knowledge which could be of use to her. Anything to escape. The succubi beneath her had the foresight to begin herding this lost sheep towards his mother. It was time for the pair of them to leave their fiery confines.

It was a mere handful of hours before her underlings brought him before her unharmed as she demanded. She would not use any force against her own, she was not BRUTISH as her father and brother. Merely a conversation comparing their predicaments and an offer to extend a hand was to transpire.

" My child how far you have fallen from the safety of above. Tell me, what would you give to return home ??? "

[fightleft]

FIGHTLEFT : A PRIVATE AND SELECTIVE JOSEPH ODA OF PSYCHO BREAK / THE EVIL WITHIN, OBSERVED AND NOTED BY SYD. ESTABLISHED JUNE 2023.

an investigation of the call of the void, being your own worst critic, valuing others above yourself, forced helplessness, & a new recklessness you don't know how to handle. exploring heavy topics such as derealization, mental illness, & suicide ideation. closely affiliated with stilledlife.

[bloodiedpetals]

@fightleft asked: "i thought you told me everything."

Despite her BEST EFFORTS to remain composed, Lilith was certain that her displeasure at the accusatory remark showed. Why was it Joseph even felt entitled to the whole truth ??? What good would it even do in such a place ??? All it could do was SLOW THEIR PROGRESS, give her father more time to halt their attempt of escape. However, even the Daughter of Hatred was able to recognize the detriment that discord could case in a team.

" I've told you all you need to know. Anything else won't serve either of us to speak of. Now, would you like to continue or remain here and risk EVERYTHING you've worked for with trivial matters ??? " That was all the placating she was willing to try, the FINALITY in her voice expressed that clearly.

[stilledlife]

“ i think when you do change, it’s not so simple to go back. ”

meme.

i know all too well is what he wants to say, but that's hardly polite.

it's difficult to interpret what joseph expects, or wants, in response. the life he's led over the past years didn't exactly prepare him for... what? commiserating?

"that may be so." stefano's tone is even, gently empathetic. a voice he went to great pains to perfect.

"but all great works are only created through change. the process of becoming is painful—it cannot be prevented, or undone. without it, there would be no hope of a new masterpiece being created."

[bloodiedpetals]

what role are you in a tragic play?

MISUNDERSTOOD VILLAIN.

prepare for an onslaught of both the most dehumanizing and hateful takes, and flood of thirst comments. you are chronically misunderstood. whether or not you're actually evil is debatable. you may be acting out for revenge, to defend someone you love, or even just to protect yourself. you're a pretty jaded person. you don't trust or even really like most people. maybe you did at one point. but that part of you is gone, and you don't go a single day without grieving it. you think a lot about what your life could have been. you're stuck in the past. you're angry and maybe you don't even want to be, but this is the only way you can see to survive. you're open, but less in a trusting way and more like a wound. you don't like to let people see you, but the hurt spills out of you before you can stop it. you're impulsive, even as you try hard to plan and prepare. maybe someday your side of the story will finally be heard. until then, you can convince yourself that being hated is safer anyway.

tagged : stolen LOL tagging: @fightleft @cosmikal @eikonshiva @deathlores @eachdraidhs

[stilledlife]

what's your role in a found family dynamic?

the silent sufferer

you love your friends, but the truth is, you go through most of the real things alone. it's better that no one sees you like this. you'll be fine, really, because you're used to feeling this way. it'll pass. it always does. that's what you believe, anyway. you're more likely to give someone advice on a lesson you've learned without telling them how you learned it. you've come to realize that, if they're coming to you for advice, they'll be too preoccupied to ask. it stings, but it's… that's just the way feelings work sometimes. when you're around others, most of these problems seem to vanish, and you're better able to love the person you are. only on the worst days do you continue to hear that insistent whisper that it's, "all a lie because they don't know what's really going on." it's not a lie. you are loved. those moments together are real. there are times when you can afford not to be so strong.

tagged by: @fightleft tagging: i think people should be allowed to steal memes from me for free

[stilledlife]

what's your role in the tragic play?

bold protagonist

you're the star of the show, baby! and boy does that come with a lot of emotional turmoil. you have a seemingly endless supply of determination. whether you have a lot of goals, or one big one, you're constantly working towards it. you're pretty restless, and struggle with imposter syndrome and generally feeling like you should be doing more. your insecurity might not be immediately obvious to others, however, as you come across as very strong and bold. vulnerability is not your strong suit, and that's likely to be your downfall. if only you had just let people in, and asked for help... well, maybe this was always gonna be a tragedy.

tagged by: @fightleft tagging: whoever wants to steal <3

[stilledlife]

"in a sense." he nods. "i could discuss it at length. however, the intricacies are not something many people care to linger on." entire worlds are lost on fools—entire mediums. it's quite tragic, really. most don't have the patience for an extensive breakdown when it isn't something they participate in themselves. how shortsighted.

stefano watches joseph intently.

fiction, and justice. how...prosaic. "not every job needs to be a calling. in fact, your honesty is something others should likely strive for." in his own life, he quickly found that those who claim they are the mouthpiece of order to be ridiculous at best, and maliciously ignorant at worst. a man with a weapon is only that, whether at the behest of the law or his country. it's all the same, in the end.

the room joseph chooses is another excursion from the previously established décor. perhaps even more so—it reminds stefano of several things, though none quite match accurately. a factory is what comes to mind first, but there's something about the machinery that feels...off. something one wouldn't find in an industrial setting. the computer, too, feels out of place, even beyond its obvious age.

as he looks around, he can't help catching the vague whiff of something. disinfectant? it's hard to pin it down. something vaguely medical, disguising something far more foul.

—he can't get carried away by speculation just yet. something about this room is clearly weighing on joseph.

"why?" he asks. "what is this place?"

developing his own photographs, the tailored suit, his knowledge of traditional art... pieces are beginning to connect in joseph's mental profile of stefano, his understanding of the other man beginning to click into place. "i suppose developing them yourself gives you more control over the final product?" he won't pretend to be more than passingly familiar with the process, and even then what he knows mostly comes from old shows he used to watch and filling in details with what seems logical.

he steps out into the hallway, taking a moment to look at the scribbled map in the notebook as he decides what to do next. the choice is his now, after all. he closes the notebook and catches sight of stefano with the raised camera — and for a brief moment he seems to look through the viewfinder, like the camera isn't even there. then he carries on, going to the door to the left. it's one of the last two unchecked doors.

"i grew up on old detective show reruns," joseph explains. it feels like a different life now. "i won't say i made the decision because i cared about justice — i did. i still do," he adds, "but it was the challenge that interested me more." his hand rests on the door handle for a moment. "that's why i moved to krimson city." he doesn't think he needs to explain that detail, he thinks as he opens the door.

joseph doesn't recognize the room at first, and he doesn't know how to describe it. dark tile walls, concrete floors. machinery he isn't sure he could identify in the corner.

then the realization strikes, and he becomes acutely aware of his pulse. "i don't think we should stay in here too long," he says before striding briskly to the small desk with an old crt computer monitor on it.

[stilledlife]

no matter its lack of current practical utility, having a camera in his hands makes stefano genuinely feel more confident and at ease. even now, it makes him far more tolerant for the continuance of the situation at hand—and having joseph along helps, of course.

"i'm more of a traditional type, honestly," he admits. "there's just something about developing my own photographs that i find..." he pauses a moment, as if not quite sure how to phrase it. "...soothing, i suppose."

stefano follows after joseph, handing over the leadership position once again. "we can do whatever you prefer. after all, you are the investigator here." in his experience, it's often easier to get along with people (and convince them to forgive your past transgressions) when you acquiesce to their perceived authority. and, arguably, joseph might have a better sense of where to go next.

he lifts the camera to his eye, capturing joseph in the viewfinder for just a moment, but doesn't take the shot. just looking, for now.

"...if you do not mind me asking," he adds, tentatively changing the subject, "why did you decide to become a detective?"

he lowers the camera, giving what joseph might say next his full attention.

stefano appears from the shadows of the — hallway? joseph assumes it's a hallway of sorts, given how long he's gone — just as quickly as he disappeared into them. "i didn't know what else to talk about," he explains, halfway apologetic. the mention of gifts is a welcome, albeit perplexing, change of topic.

joseph takes the skeleton key from stefano's hand as he offers it, lifting it to cast it a cursory glance. it's a regular key, however old it may appear to be. there's nothing of note about its appearance. "for the door at the end, if i had to guess." although that doesn't help them with the locked doors, if they're meant to go into them. a master key?

as he thinks over the key, he turns his attention to the instant camera in stefano's grasp. "from your tone, i take it that's not your preferred model?" he's being deliberately, if only lightly, ironic — a strange touch of normalcy. besides the instant camera looking out of place in stefano's hands, even without knowing much about photography he knows that they're not known for their quality.

he starts making his way to the door of this room, looking back at his notes. "should we check the other doors?" he asks, although he suspects the answer will be no, if his understanding of stefano from what he's observed thus far is correct.

[stilledlife]

"no, no—i believe we have everything we need here," stefano interjects, backing away from the mannequin to take a long look at it himself, holding his hands up to make a photo frame.

personally, he doesn't want to waste the time looking for clues he thinks (knows) aren't there.

"you already placed the stone, so i think all that is left is posing her correctly and giving her the right flowers." if the statement is phrased in such a way that it's light, simple enough, perhaps joseph won't prod too hard at what follows it.

he moves towards the mannequin again, adjusting her pose with a hand on one shoulder, leaning her torso slightly forwards; moving on to changing the position of the arms so the hands are turned inwards, close together, getting it ready to hold something. his movements are quick, sure of himself, but with a gentle pressure, as if the mannequin is a living thing.

with that prepared, he walks over to the flowers, pretending to deliberate for a moment before plucking the bouquet and carrying it back to the model. he meticulously settles her hands around the stems, attention even on how one hand sits on top of the other. stefano takes a step back for a moment to observe his work, before returning to adjust her arms slightly.

there is another loud click, but nothing happens.

stefano deflates slightly with a sigh, putting a hand to his forehead. "of course. there's something else." there would be one more thing whoever designed this mockery would expect him to do.

"now, listen to me." he directs his words to joseph, looking over at him. "this is going to look...strange. but you have to trust me. all right?"

he doesn't wait for an answer, lest the impulse for what he's about to do next leaves him entirely, before stepping behind the mannequin and putting a hand on either side of its head.

in a series of brusque motions, he snaps the head to the side. crack. then forwards. crack. the sounds of the neck joint straining break the silence of the room. then, when he lifts the head back toward him, he's able to lift it smoothly away from the neck entirely.

click.

with that, a panel in the wall behind him shifts, sliding away to reveal a dark, narrow passageway.

"there. easy. problem solved," he says, as if he was not still holding a head in his hands.

joseph follows stefano into the room, immediately noting the difference in atmosphere. stefano notices it too — or something, joseph observes as the other man freezes, however briefly. it's a passive thing, and the former detective lets the moment go without addressing it.

besides the atmosphere being different, the room is strikingly similar to the others in its artificiality; the curtains painted on the wall stick out as rushed, the red of the paint slightly too vibrant for what he can only assume is the desired effect.

the roses, too, he notices as he approaches the three vases, are fake. they're nice fakes (silk?), but fakes nonetheless. "besides that, what else are we supposed to do?" joseph asks as he turns to face the mannequin. stefano is right about the emerald, that much seems certain — the size and shape are an exact match, he's fairly certain as he crosses the small room and pulls the gem from his pocket.

that certainty is confirmed as the emerald slots into place with a click that's slightly too loud for stone on wood.

silence settles as joseph's eyes bore into the mannequin, like staring at it hard enough will make it reveal its secrets. but, of course, it's just a mannequin. "hmm." he paces away from the wooden figure, flipping open the notebook. "seven is a weird number of roses," he thinks aloud, quickly jotting down 'roses: 1 / 3 / 7' for future reference. "bouquets are usually in full or half dozens." it certainly makes that number stick out more than the others, but that isn't a definitive answer and could be a misdirection altogether.

"but that doesn't tell us what to do with them, even if that's right." talking to himself, he writes down a quick note about the contents of this room by the door on his hastily-drawn map and closes the notebook. "there are two more doors we haven't checked," he says, now speaking directly to stefano. "if we're lucky, they'll be open and we might find more clues. maybe we missed something by passing them by."

[stilledlife]

“i am sure.” he confirms to joseph before he stands and they leave the diner. a lie as easy as breathing. surely, this won’t come back to cause issues for him, will it? and as joseph says, they can always return to the other room.

with the door at the end proven to be locked, stefano leads the way to the one directly across from the diner. fortunately, this door opens with ease, albeit with an ominous creaking sound, as if it’s significantly older than the other rooms—or from a different building entirely.

this room is far smaller than the diner, about as big as the study. it feels like being trapped in a box. the most notable trait about it, upon the door opening, is that it's wreathed in shadows. a lightblub in the center of the ceiling casting a spotlight down on a figure standing beneath it.

at first glance, someone might think it's another person, but after a moment of staring, the lack of movement becomes obvious.

the silhouette turns out to be a mannequin. made of wood, with movable joints allowing it to hold a pose. it wears a blue dress, the featureless head facing towards them, the hands held out, palms up, like it's beseeching them for something.

stefano, bizarrely, seems to almost recognize it, or at the very least it looks to remind him of something. he freezes for a moment, tense, before compartmentalizing that instinct away in order to approach the mannequin. the only other unique feature it has is an oval indent carved out of it, about in the center of where the collarbones would be on a person.

as for the rest of the room, the walls are painted to look like they're draped in red curtains. additionally, there's a table against the left wall with three vases. each holds a varying number of cut roses: one, three, and a bouquet of seven.

stefano looks around the room, standing beside the mannequin, before turning back to joseph. “it looks like we are meant to do something here, at least.” he taps the open space on the mannequin’s body. “clearly the gem goes here.”

conveniently, he is not about to elaborate on what he immediately knows this puzzle is looking for them to accomplish.

"no," joseph muses. "there really isn't a consistent theme at all." his voice is slightly quieter, the words spoken more to himself than to stefano. his brow is furrowed in thought, and he pulls off his glasses with one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose with the other.

there's a bit of a headache creeping back in, the pressure building behind his eyes, and it's hard to tell if it's frustration at the situation or a sign of something worse to come. the dry comment about coffee pulls him out of the feeling, a faint, monosyllabic laugh catching on an exhale.

keep it together, he tells himself as he puts his glasses back on, but the exhaustion in his bones he's come to know as a constant has made itself known again. he crosses over towards the table, casting a cursory glance around the rest of the space as he moves; there doesn't seem to be the space for anything else of interest to be hidden. there are no shelves here, and scaled down to dining room size there's no serving counter or bar to look behind.

it's eerily barren, lacking windows or doors save the one they came in. the lone table with its chairs and abandoned cup of not-coffee are the only objects of interest.

this room was obviously pointing them towards finding this emerald, so what about the last one? "i'm guessing we'll find a use for it," joseph says as he gingerly lifts it off the napkin for a closer look. he stares at it a moment, his attention seemingly somewhere else.

his lips part, and it's a moment more before he speaks. "are we sure we checked the office properly? then again, nothing stood out like this table did..." he trails off, once again speaking more to himself as he tucks the cut gem into his vest pocket.

something isn't making sense, but it's difficult to say what.

"let's move on. we can always go back," he decides. "once we have a fuller picture, we might have a better idea of what we're supposed to be seeing." he wastes less time leaving this room and moving onto the next door than he did the last, acutely aware of the pressure in his head and the way it makes him feel like a ticking bomb.

the next door to the left is the one at the end of the hall. it's the same as the others in every way that matters, but there's something undefinable yet more grand about it. predictably, it's locked, and joseph jots that down. three locked doors. three unchecked ones left. only one item of interest.

[stilledlife]

stefano peeks over joseph's shoulder to take a look at the memo pad. so, he's the type that takes notes. interesting. "it's smart," he says. "better to keep track of any clues in one place." besides the ones he is electively choosing not to make joseph aware of.

the next room is crafted in the image of a diner. much like the study, it's almost there, but not quite. it reminds him so much of union in its perfunctory americana that he nearly turns his nose up at the room entirely.

but if he wants to stick with joseph, he doesn't have much of a choice other than to follow along.

"a suspicion is dawning on me," stefano notes, before blithely sitting down in one of the chairs, "that those who designed this place did not have a consistent theme."

he casts an exaggerated look around the room. "what exactly are we supposed to be uncovering in here?" there's a mug on the table, ostensibly abandoned by some imaginary guest, and he lifts it. "damn fine coffee?" jokes aside, this...does not look like coffee.

he had supposed it was, at first, but the substance in the cup is far too black, viscous-looking... and as he tilts it to take a sniff, he notices two things: one, it doesn't smell of much anything at all. ink, perhaps? and two, something is sliding around at the bottom, inside the so-called drink.

"wait a moment. there's something... in this?" he's half disgusted, half intrigued, but he's not about to upend the mystery beverage all over the table.

fortunately, there's place settings at the table, and he retrieves a fork before going ahead with 'fishing'. there's a clinking noise—it's definitely touching something—and then he finally scoops something out of the coffee cup.

the prize is unceremoniously dropped onto a napkin. it's...

"a stone?" though, as the ink (?) leeches away into the paper, it does appear something to be more valuable. "no, an emerald. i am not sure what we're supposed to do with this."

true to what he says, it does appear to be a small, many-faceted green stone, cut into the shape of an oval.

joseph notices the slight shift in stefano's tone when he answers, but he doesn't know the other man to know if it's anything to worry about; instead, it's something he files away for later. maybe he's just as frustrated about how obviously fake this all is, and how it feels like some sort of joke at their expense.

"it's the same over here," joseph replies, not looking over at stefano in favor of opening the drawers one at a time. just like the top of the desk, they're filled with illegible papers and — finally. it's a pencil, not a pen like he used to favor, but it'll work. he drops the letter opener into his slacks pocket in order to hold the pencil. "it doesn't seem like they tried very hard to make this convincing. but, if they knew we'd know where we were, they never had to keep up appearances."

he opens the other drawers to make sure there's nothing of note in them, but by the bottom drawer they're completely empty.

but then why make the room at all?

accepting with a touch of unease that there's nothing useful to be found, he sets the notebook on top of the papers and quickly jots down a rough map of the "lobby," his left hand braced on the paper-strewn surface. behind this door, he draws an x. by the two doors they know to be locked, he jots down the word 'locked.'

it's only when stefano clears his throat that joseph looks over at him. "i think so," he says as he straightens his posture. he lifts the memo pad in a way to denote its existence to the other. "who knows what we're going to be put through." hopefully this will help, continues his unsaid explanation as he moves toward the door back to the lobby.

"should we continue to the left?" it's the direction stefano set off in in the first place with some confidence, and it does make sense to go in one direction. admittedly, with his notes it'll be harder to miss a door, but...

joseph still goes to the left, trying the next door. this one — the last one on this wall — opens easily, and as the door swings open it reveals a dining room. it looks almost pulled from a diner, but it's a lone dining room. the tile is checked black-and-white, the furniture that metal-and-white plastic look with vibrant red seats. it's a stark contrast to the office they just explored, save for it also being a dead end.

"this one's clear," joseph says as he makes his way in.

[stilledlife]

it's truly fortunate that stefano is fully hidden in shadow before joseph answers his question.

a detective.

well, that's both intriguing and upsetting. he supposes it's a small mercy that joseph was with missing persons rather than homicide. perhaps...he's less likely to notice anything conspicuous? doubtful, considering how observant joseph has already proven himself to be. he has to be careful.

stefano takes a deep breath, opening hands which have clenched into fists, unbidden, and traces his fingertips along the walls to either side of him as he walks. vision isn't any better inside the hallway as it was outside—in fact, it's quite similar to the path the two of them walked to reach the lobby.

the walls do have a texture to them, though...like veins, almost, cracks through a hard surface, or stone. he can still hear joseph quite well as he continues on, but doesn't deign to respond.

true to his expectations, he reaches the end soon enough, lightly bumping into an object in front of him. a...table? upon touching the surface, he finds two items waiting for him. what feels like a metal key, and...something else. a present. how kind.

in a matter of moments he makes it back to the entrance, returning to joseph with his hands held behind his back.

"you have been through a lot, haven't you?" he asks sympathetically as he emerges from the darkness. there's something deeply pitiable about joseph's story. to be so blind until you've been drawn in too deep to ever escape...

"fortunately for us, however, i have returned with gifts." he holds out his left hand to joseph, offering a skeleton key.

and the right hand reveals something he's clearly going to keep for himself. "they were kind enough to give me a camera. how sweet." sardonic tone aside, that is indeed what he's holding: an instant camera. not his first choice, but better than nothing.

joseph notices when the true joy slips into stefano's tone, perceptibly different than the way he's spoken so far. it isn't a stark contrast, but it's enough. it doesn't mean anything beyond reinforcing that he's telling the truth, but he has no reason to lie.

he watches as stefano examines the entrance of the passage, watches the way his hand disappears into the shadows — his mouth opens to answer the question, but stefano asserts his plan to go in before he can answer right away. as he passes over the threshold of the passage, he disappears from sight into the shadows.

there's a moment of silence before joseph speaks. "i... i was a detective," he answers toward the darkness, shaking off the passing, impulsive urge to follow. "kcpd, missing persons bureau." what's he supposed to keep talking about? "it's kind of morbidly funny, isn't it? a missing persons detective becoming a missing person." it's really not funny except in the most upsetting of ways.

he's not good at talking just to talk, and standing alone with the silent shadows doesn't help. "if i had to guess, i was assumed dead from the start." there's a slight drop in his volume. "my partner and i got pulled into this with a rookie detective we were training. the last thing i remember is her shooting me." the details have remained foggy, and he's not even sure why he's disclosing this now. honesty for honesty? it's all he has to admit, anyway.

"i woke up here positive i should've been dead." dr jee had to explain stem to him, and everything else — including the fact that he shouldn't hope for release from this place.

[stilledlife]

"i—" why do you have to make this difficult? things were going so well between them before all this. ignoring the fact that he essentially created this whole problem, of course.

"it's something of mine. in this place, where it should not be. in a state i never intended. it is..." he takes the photo back, secreting it away once again. "it feels like an invasion of privacy. i am sure you understand." stefano thinks that if he pushes his offense at being questioned, the line of inquiry will be dropped. besides, he seriously doubts mobius hasn't tried to drag anything out of joseph's head before. they're likely doing the same thing to everyone.

for how enjoyable it can be to exist in a world defined by your own perceptions, there is an undeniable element of disturbance. a sanctuary defiled.

"how was i supposed to know there would be anything based on it? if you were in the same position, wouldn't you have done the same?"

it's a gentle prodding. he's looking for assurance, understanding. perhaps hoping joseph's empathy will override his suspicion.

joseph is more suspicious and observant than he's sure stefano would like him to be in this instance — years of police training and experience as a detective in the field have done him well. he picks up on the shifty avoidance of his eyes, the careful timing between every statement allowing for a cover to be built without stumbling.

but what is being covered is unclear, and joseph doubts he'll get that information right away. stefano has his guard up. that much is clear.

he examines the photograph, then looks at the mannequin. it's a good cover, although... something about the picture feels familiar, like he's seen it before, but there's nothing about it joseph can definitively place. maybe he's seen a similar dress on someone before? or the necklace, maybe. it is a statement piece.

"this was in the study?" where you insisted there was nothing of note? he holds the picture back out for stefano. "why hide it?"

[stilledlife]

come on, you can handle this. you haven't lost yet. stefano has to remind himself. he hasn't been completely found out.

"i can explain," he says gently, walking over to set the mannequin head on the table before turning back to face joseph. he holds one up in a 'hold on a moment' gesture while he reaches into his jacket pocket with another. he withdraws the photograph, and slowly steps closer, carefully holding it out to joseph. "here."

the picture portrays a woman, posed like the mannequin, with a necklace and dark, shoulder-length hair. even the dresses look similar, if they aren't entirely identical. she holds a bouquet of roses .

the photo is cut off so that it ends directly under her chin. her head is removed entirely from the image.

"it's a photograph i took, once." he says, by way of explanation. "it was not cropped like this at the time."

he glances away so he doesn't have to meet joseph's eyes. "it was in the study. i did not tell you. i apologize."

it's almost morbidly funny how quickly camaraderie can form in a strange and no doubt dangerous situation, no matter how little its been given to grow. joseph becomes, rather suddenly, acutely aware that he's been put together here with someone he knows nothing about.

whatever this puzzle is referencing, stefano is clearly familiar with it — he hid that fact, too, from the moment they walked into this room. but why? joseph also remembers the letter opener tucked into his slacks pocket. all he can do is watch as stefano repositions the mannequin and puts the roses in its hands.

he doesn't bother responding to the comment about trust.

the way stefano snaps the mannequin's neck and removes its head only adds to the growing mistrust, and joseph becomes faintly aware of his own pulse. he should've asked more questions.

"this represents something," joseph says as he stares into the dark passageway. it's not a question. "mind telling me what?" his eyes flick to stefano's face as he asks the question, and then they drop pointedly to the wooden head in his hands before lifting once more. despite the casual wording, there's a coldness to the question.