Lee immediately returned to his office away from the prison and sat at his desk, feeling his racing heart begin to slow. It had been years, but he knew the man. He knew the contours of his face, the shape of his nose, the expression in his eyes though Lee had had to open them by force. Steeler. His old friend. It had been so long since he left the States---had been forced to leave by his family---and he hadn't seen the young man since. How long had it been? Lee couldn't even remember. And now Steeler---American spy captured by Lee's own---was in the hands of a man known by the moniker of misery. Mr. Misery, the source of pain that the American prisoners felt and heard and thought about every single day.

He stood, hand grasped around a glass paperweight, and he threw it across the room with an enraged wail. He was conflicted more now than ever. He didn't support the war---didn't even support the Chinese. He knew they were buying out small countries one by one and threatening the States, and it was only fair that they dared retaliate. But Lee didn't think about that. He thought about making his family proud of him in some way. Some way, finally. But now it meant hurting a friend. Did Dustin even remember him?

His office door opened. "Mr. Alkaev, are you okay?" Several guards had come in, looking concerned after the crash.

"No! I'm in an extremely bad mood right now, officers! Begone!" He waved them off, pressing his hands against his eyes and growling loudly as the door closed. He couldn't just not do anything, however. Dustin was a spy. A spy! Spies were especially frowned upon but very necessary. Truthfully he couldn't care less if the spies talked, but he needed to appear as if he tried. He went outside, passing a guard and grabbing him as he went along. He had to see Dustin.

Stopping at the cell with the guard, Lee could barely keep animosity in his expression. He looked so grown up now... He probably hated Lee. Glancing down, he regarded the mess. "Guard, please take note." He spoke in clear English, but the guard was bilingual, and he nodded. "As it stands our spy will be given food once every seven days. This will be a piece of bread no more than ten ounces and a small bowl of rice no more than fifteen ounces. He will have water once every two days. This will be no more than ten ounces and no less than five. If he tries to harm himself in any way he will be shackled from the ceiling by the arms. If he tries to use anything currently on his person to remove himself from his current predicament he will be stripped and will remain in his cell naked. Is this understood?"

The guard nodded, and at Lee's command, went to spread the word to others. When they were left alone, Lee turned his gaze to Dustin. "I'm sure you don't recognize me." He said simply. "But I recognize you, Dustin." He could hardly bear doing what he was doing to Dustin now. No food but every seven days, and no water but every two? It was barely enough water to keep someone alive, and enough time between meals to create a backlash in his body. Lee turned swiftly, stalking away.