dominic follows at his partner’s shoulder as she unlocks the door, entering a few steps behind her. he hadn’t really made any assessments of her up until that point; if there were any files about the woman or her performance, he hadn’t read them largely because he’s indifferent to the words of others on the matter. at this point, he was used to disappointment when handling grunts, but as the situation unfolds in front of him, dominic realises this is the exception.

bodies of the office occupants brush past him in a panic and he lets them, his gaze fixed on lulu, a burgeoning smirk at his lips. when sigmund moves with the surge of people, dominic shakes his head and clicks his tongue. the bald fucker almost makes it to the door, but dominic flicks a hand and rose-coloured, semi-transparent chains curl from the floor and snap around the man’s legs, rendering him immobile in a FAIRY LOCK courtesy of the klefki attached to his belt.

"going somewhere?" dominic drawls.

sigmund is forced to stop within arm’s reach of dominic, struggling against the confines for a moment before glancing up just in time to watch as dominic reels an arm back to pistol-whip him with the butt of his gun. there’s a crunching noise, and the man cries out, hands flying to his nose as it freely pours blood - he staggers but is kept upright only by the binding. dominic winces at the force of the strike, and pulls back with a shake of his head, turning away to move to close the window blinds; they don’t need any extra eyes, and he knows they’ve got a limited amount of time to get the point across before the escaped occupants call for help. the room floods with gloom, slivers of sun cutting through the slits of the shutters and the glow of the chains around sigmund’s legs providing the only light. when dominic’s gaze flickers up to look at lulu, he’s grinning.

were it up to him, dominic would have put a bullet in between the consignor’s eyes but walsh wants to take it slow, he supposes.

"you think you’re done with us, but we’re not done with you." dominic’s voice is nonchalant, not quite matching the leer of his eyes nor the vicious curl of his mouth. he doesn’t feel the need for introductions is necessary. the man whimpers a reply that’s muffled by the hands he has pressed against his bleeding face, but dominic doesn’t catch it - nor does he care to.

"we only ask you to do one simple, fucking task, sigmund, and you spit in our faces like this?" dominic continues, talking over him. with his free hand, he taps his fingertips against the klefki twice to issue a silent command and takes a step back as the man begins to suddenly scream out as sharp SPIKES begin to form under his feet en masse, their cruel barbs enough to pierce through the soles of his cheap leather shoes and hook into his skin.

Lulu Flint

when lulu addresses the man, dominic finds that his gaze lingers on the former rather than the latter. very interesting, and the question of just who are you? arises and is just as quickly dispelled; the answer, for now, is secondary. if he is impressed, his features barely betray him, the smirk only hinted at by the quirk of his lips could be meant for her as much as it is meant for sigmund.

the fucker is lucky in the fact that they ultimately do need him alive; it’s just he doesn’t know that yet, and dominic will do his best to maintain that illusion. the man whimpers a response to lulu’s provocations, but goes briefly still when lulu brings up details from his personal life. less than an arm’s length away, dominic can hear his breathing grow ragged. he says please followed by more begging. dominic’s expression remains primarily impassive in the face of the appeals.

"would you look at that," dominic drawls, slow and purposeful with his words. he pauses to watch the blood seep from the man’s wounds and into the carpet. "cheat in private and professional affairs, huh?"

dominic’s gaze flickers from sigmund to lulu and then back again. "unlike your women, maybe we will be overlook all this? what do you think?"

Lulu Flint