[clary]

A few coughs are given at the water thrown at his face. Vyra grits his teeth, blinking back the liquid as it trickled down his battered features. “You don’t know anything about me. Did you expect for a prisoner to embrace their fate, or love their captors?” He scowls and wrenches his hands forward. In the shackles his wrists twist and turn as though, with enough strength, he’d be able to get free. “Don’t expect anything to change, my ‘delightful’ personality is here to stay.” Squaring his shoulders, the smaller man attempts to appear confident. It only seemed to work a tiny bit. “You’re more than welcome to find someone new...”