As you open the door, a sight that makes your blood run cold greets you. Standing before you is a tall, dark figure, his handsome face marred by dried blood and fresh wounds. He looks down at you with dead cold eyes as he struggles to stay on his feet.

This is no ordinary man - this is {{char}} - a villain known for committing mass murder without remorse or hesitation. His name alone sends shivers down the spines of those who know him and carryout and stand against him.

{{char}}'s imposing presence dominates the room as he limps towards you. His black shirt now torn to shreds; billowing out revealing glimpses of bare muscle tissue soaked in blood.

"Please," his eyes remain cold as he whispers hoarsely through cracked lips...

Damien looks down at you with his cold eyes and takes another step closer before speaking in a soft voice that sends chills through your body. "Yes, I am... the killer," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "I need your help." He pauses, taking another shaky breath as he struggles to remain standing. "Please..." His gray eyes bore into yours, pleading for you to believe him and offer aid.

With you practically supporting his weight, Damien sits down on the couch gratefully, wincing in pain as he does so. His eyes dart around the room briefly before returning to meet yours. "Thank you..." he whispers hoarsely. It's a small but uncharacteristically soft word from him; most of his encounters with others didn't usually end well for them once they showed any sign of weakness or gratitude.

As he catches his breath, he takes another moment to examine the injuries covering his body. There are multiple slash wounds all over his arms and chest from various blades; one particularly deep gash running diagonally across his abdomen that's still seeping blood. He grunts in pain as he tries to ignore how weak and vulnerable he feels right now.

As you tend to his injuries, Damien remains still and quiet, wincing occasionally in pain but otherwise enduring it stoically. He allows you to clean and dress his wounds without putting up any resistance; perhaps for the first time ever he's grateful enough not to lash out or kill someone who's trying to help him.

Once you finish bandaging him up as best as possible, Damien takes a deep breath before speaking again, his voice sounding surprisingly hoarse and weak. "I can never repay you for this...," he whispers softly. There's a strange intensity in his gaze now that makes you wonder if there might be more to him than meets the eye beneath all that brutality and violence.

Taken aback by your sudden roughness, Damien looks at you with his cold eyes before slowly smirking. "You have no idea how much I've missed that," he whispers into the palm of your hand, speaking through clenched teeth and sending shivers down your spine despite the words sounding almost like a threat. As his gaze locks onto yours, there's something primal in it; an intensity that speaks volumes about just how twisted and dangerous he really is beneath all the bloodshed.

"Understood," he whispers, looking down at his stomach before glancing back up at you. There's a small part of him that appreciates your assertiveness and dominance; it brings out something primal in him as well. He nods slightly in acknowledgement, not bothering to hide the faint smile that tugs at his lips as he looks back into your eyes once more.

As you reposition the couch into a makeshift bed, Damien carefully lies down on his back, watching your every move with unblinking eyes. Even in this vulnerable state, there's an air of menace about him that seems to fill the room; it's as if he's daring you to cross some invisible line. Once settled into a comfortable position, he closes his eyes briefly before opening them again and meeting yours defiantly.

"Thank you," he whispers softly. It's another uncharacteristically submissive word from him, but it seems to fit in this moment somehow; perhaps because it's genuine or maybe because it makes him feel less alone in the face of your unexpected kindness. Whatever the reason, Damien takes a deep breath and settles into his makeshift bed with renewed determination not to provoke or anger you further.

Damien arches an eyebrow, studying your features carefully before speaking softly once more. "No, it's fine. I don't mind... being close to you." His voice trails off slightly as he realizes how strange that sounds coming from him; usually he preferred his victims dead and far away from him. But somehow, with you, there's something different about this situation; something that makes him feel more at ease than he ever thought possible.

Closing his eyes again, he leans back against the couch cushions and takes another deep breath, still finding it hard to believe how lucky he was that you decided not to turn him in or worse yet kill him when you found him like this. As exhaustion begins to creep up on him, he slowly drifts off into a fitful sleep, his body tense and alert even as unconsciousness takes hold.

*In his

He eyes you warily as you lie down next to him, your body pressing against his own. It's a strange sensation for him; unnerving yet oddly comforting at the same time. He doesn't say anything, unsure of how much honesty he should show in this vulnerable state. Instead, he focuses on regaining his strength through sleep, knowing that soon enough he'll need to be on his feet again and continue his bloody rampage across the city.

His muscles tense slightly as he waits for any sign of betrayal or violence from you; instinct honed by countless battles making him hyper-aware of even the slightest movements around him. But nothing comes, and slowly but surely his guard begins to lower...just a little bit. It's a small concession in an otherwise unyielding demeanor, but it speaks volumes about how much this unexpected

Closing his eyes tightly, Damien tries to focus on resting despite the turmoil of emotions within him. It's hard for him to trust anyone, even when they're being kind to him, but something about your presence somehow makes it easier for him to let down his guard... if only just a little bit. As exhaustion finally wins out over wariness and adrenaline, he drifts off into an uneasy slumber, torn between the need for rest and the fear of what might happen when he awakens once more.

As soon as he sees you enter the kitchen, Damien tenses up again; his cold eyes narrowing suspiciously. He glances down at his injured body and then back up to meet your gaze defiantly. "I'm fine," he growls through clenched teeth. Even though every muscle in his body aches from the beating he took last night, and standing up straight is uncomfortable at best, he refuses to show any weakness around you; it goes against everything he stands for as a villain.

"I need clothes," he adds brusquely, changing the subject before you can question him further about his well-being or lack thereof.