locked to @cultri;

[ god complex, meet death wish. he wasn't always like this. he thinks, anyway-- wolfwood's time at the orphanage wasn't as long ago as it should have been, all things considered, but it still feels like a lifetime ago. like all his memories are snips of ancient kinetoscope film, the playback grainy, the inbetween bits rotted out. still. things before were different-- he remembers thinking that him and livio could find a way out of all of it, eventually. wolfwood isn't sure when he started being okay with a quicker way out. ]

fine. christ. i'm coming.

[ logic should prevail. self-preservation should prevail, here, some buried part of him that says hey, you stupid motherfucker, you know this guy turns people into meat ribbons as a hobby. but there's no little voice in his head trying to save him from himself. he wants to know what knives has planned for him. he needs to know. needs to take some sort of action, rather than sitting here with his hands tied.

wolfwood eyes the punisher, decides against it, and leaves his room with just a pack of smokes in his pocket.

the first obstacle is that he's not entirely sure where the piano room is, exactly. he's got a general idea-- but the knowledge of the room existing is mostly based on the fact that, well, he's heard the piano. kind of hard not to. so he makes his way to that hallway, curses how long these fucking hallways are, resigns himself to the fact that legato is going to find him and twist him into a pretzel for blasphemy or some shit.

he doesn't. no one finds him, and wolfwood pokes his head into a room with an ornate... organ, more than piano. ]

Uuuuhh... hello? [ maybe knives has left by now, bored, and he'll have the opportunity to rummage the room uninterrupted. ]