Lee stopped scratching through the bandage and turned his arm over, lifting the wrapping and looking, but barely seeing. His skin was an angry red from the abuse he'd just been putting it through, and past scars from where he'd scratched the skin into bloody rags lined either side of the small dragon's snake-like body. He sighed, biting his tongue when he felt his eyes sting, waiting for that to pass. It was weird, to feel it again. To feel that urge to actually show emotion. "I... didn't care." He growled. "Not before you came. I'd been beaten into not giving a damn, cultured, prepared for my role here as... a devil. Mr. Misery, that's what they call me, and for damn good reason. When they see me coming they know that if they make it out of here alive, they'll never forget because the scars won't let them. And I didn't give a single damn. I'd watch them cry and scream and agonize and sometimes I'd almost laugh. Because I knew they'd crack. I'd forgotten. Everything." He looked up. "Every. Thing."

He'd never laughed. He'd never cried. When he came here, to this prison, he'd made sure that everything was carefully engineered to cause maximum discomfort. From the torture itself, to the sleeping arrangements, to the constant guard presence, the underground area that didn't let a single ray of natural light in. The dim lighting itself, to tire the eyes and the body and keep it in a constant state of fatigue. The poor food, dried or overly salted or preserved, and the meager water. It was all coordinated by Lee. "Then you came. And it all crashed down. There was no way in hell I could hurt you, knowing how we parted... and knowing you didn't even remember me. Or what we'd gone through. Or what..." He laughed humorlessly. "Never mind..." He sighed, pressing his head against the bars and looking to his left and right. At least this was a quiet area of the prison. Near his office, it was always quiet because he could watch the corridor himself if need be.