The beast keeps scratching at his wrist. It doesn't hurt. It should, but all he feels is a small amount of pressure, nothing else. He could cut the hand away and feel nothing.
Christian Bouviet shifts in his chair and wakes up. He's out of it, but tries to pull away from the bindings holding him. It takes a while for the man to realize that he didn't fall asleep on his desk. Eyes snap up and search through the room. They take in the empty, abandoned warehouse before finding the beast. He looks scared. If the beast were to break this mans arm, he would scream.
If he were to say that out loud, it would be taken as a threat. The beast just finds the differences to be interesting, that's all. He stops scratching at his wrist and reaches for the pistol strapped to his belt. Now that the man's awake, he doesn't feel so safe anymore.
”What-?” the man in the chair stutters out. He chokes down the rest of his words. Tries to appear tough. He's a scientist, so he isn't tough. The assassin remembers reading more details, but can't recall most of them anymore.
”Ah, no worries, you're safe for now. We're just, uhh... waiting for some company,” he waves the gun on his hand carelessly as he talks, and points at the open door. The scientist tries to flinch away and seems more cautious than before.
”What?” the beast asks. Then he follows the scientists gaze. Tries to think of something encouraging or calming to say.
”I'm not gonna shoot anyone until your son gets here,” he finds himself saying. The man pales and looks ready to faint all over again. Not the right thing to say, then...
”Not that shooting at things is the only option, here,” he rushes to salvage the situation. Bouviet doesn't seem placated.