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In his eyes, there was so much fear. It made Dante grin in a way that would make the devil proud. Watching those tears start to well up in those soft eyes of his, and seeing him struggle only made the tall lord laugh to himself. The poor kid was definitely no enemy. Hell, he was probably no threat at all. The fear in his voice and in his eyes was far too genuine for it to be an act. When he heard the boy's weak voice, he only smiled. "Oh, you poor, hopeless little thing. I am the wrong person to be begging to for mercy." Dante told him, his voice low and thick with malice. It was clear he was getting some sort of enjoyment out of the boy's suffering. "I might let you go, and I might not. It all depends on how well you answer my questions." He told the boy. Standing up, the rugged man took off his chest plate, resting it on the floor, along with his sword. The sword was in itself an item of magnificence, being even taller than the man who wielded it.
Dante rotated his arms, sighing at how good it felt to be freed of the heavy armour. Now, his torso was covered in a simple cloth shirt, exposing his muscular arms to the boy. "What I want to know is your name, boy. And more importantly, where you came from, and why in hell you were in the Sanubia desert." He told the smaller male. "Give me all the right answers, and I might be able to set you free. But if you lie to me..." Dante's smile quickly faded away, a menacing, terrifying scowl in its place. "I will make every second of your life a living hell." He warned him. Then, just like that, the scowl was gone, his sly smile back on his face. "Tick tock boy. The longer you wait to tell me, the less likely your odds are to go free."
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