Five days later.
Adrian visited Miguel in his holding cell. He saw him sitting down on the floor with a downcast gaze.
Miguel slowly lifted his head when he heard the footsteps stop outside his cell.
His eyes met Adrian's through the bars.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Miguel looked worse than before. The bruises along his face had darkened into deep purple and yellow patches, his lip still cracked, one side of his face slightly swollen. He had cleaned himself up as much as he could, but there was no hiding it. The beating had settled into his body, not fresh anymore, but not gone either.
"…What do you want?" Miguel asked in a rough and low voice.
Adrian stood there, calm, looking down at him without any emotion on his face.
He took a second before answering, letting the silence sit between them.
Then he spoke.
"This is it."
Miguel frowned slightly, confused.
"…What do you mean?"
Adrian didn't move.
