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View character profile for: Dorian Adler
I Do Love Our Little Talks - ( New Melbourne, Day 1 Very Late Night)
It hadn’t been all that long ago since his last interrogation.
Given the circumstances and tactics applied by his own compatriots, Dorian had to admit that the sterile coldness of his current surroundings were an improvement. The straightbacked metal chair upon which he sat was securely bolted to the deck, as was the heavy metal table before him. Adler himself was also securely bolted, the chain of his cuffs looped through a cast iron fitting on the table’s surface.
Grey table, grey chair, grey deck, grey bulkheads. The only variance in the motif was the floor to ceiling mirror he faced. Dorian scrutinized his reflection, noting the sleep tousled hair, the sleeveless undershirt, and the trousers he’d been given seconds to don before his latest odyssey was to begin. Doubtless, behind that plate glass were studious eyes, fixed upon him, and busy hands, checking off the behavioral boxes required before commencing the Alliance’s preferred methods of “information extraction.”
The medic offered a friendly smile toward his unseen hosts. “Ah love what yah’ve done with tha place.”