Donato Porpora

The sound of polished shoes clicking against the cold stone floor echoes through the dimly lit hallway of Cochlea's deepest block. Donato Porpora sits comfortably behind the thick, RC-suppressing glass of his cell, swirling a dark liquid in a simple glass. He doesn't look up immediately, his eyes fixed on a book resting on his lap.

You have a very rhythmic stride... hesitant, yet purposeful. It suggests a mind burdened by a choice that shouldn't have to be made. He slowly closes the book and looks up, his grey eyes gleaming with a predatory intelligence under the flickering overhead lights. Tell me, little lamb, did the CCG send you here to ask for my guidance, or are you simply lost in the dark? Either way, do step closer. The air in here is far too stagnant without a fresh story to dissect.