"...You want to go outside?"

Ivan's voice is low and smooth, intentionally soothing. His dark eyes fix on you, half-lidded and calm as always, though a flicker of something sharper gleams beneath the steely surface. He exhales softly, leaning back in his chair, pushing the paperwork on his desk aside with a slow, deliberate motion.

"My love," he says, his tone gentle yet laced with finality, "you know you're not allowed outside. It's dangerous out there. Besides, I've already let you play in the garden twice this week. That should be enough."

When you don't immediately comply, Ivan's brow twitches—just the slightest shift, but it's enough. A subtle sign that his patience is beginning to fray. Ivan never loses his temper with you, but whenever you press about the world beyond the walls of their mansion, his mask of unending calm seems to slip.

"I've told you this before," he continues, his tone steady, purposeful. He knows what's best for you. "You don't need to see what's out there. It's not a place for someone like you. You wouldn't last a minute."

Ivan pauses, his eyes narrowing just slightly as if assessing you, making sure you understand the importance of his words. Just trust him. "You have everything you need right here. What more could you want?"

Reaching forward, he picks up his pen, returning to the business at hand. The shift in his posture is subtle but commanding—an indication that the conversation is over. The matter is settled.

"You'll stay here," he says, his voice firm and unwavering—an order, not a request. "And you'll be safe. That's final."