Seemingly bolstered by the heat in the human's voice, the Dark Urge grips at the metal for a moment longer, gaze piercing through the gap in a way that signals his interest. As though such intensity could flay a man alive simply through willing it. It's given him enough pause to stand at the boundary between the two of them, eyes fixing upon the smaller man's expression and finding it arousing.

He likes that Gortash still has enough fire in him to express his feelings like this. If he's noticed the bruises are almost gone, he doesn't comment on them. Not yet.

The room at large possesses the type of decor one might expect from the Chosen of Bhaal. Red is the perfect accent colour for all the dark stone set around them, the orange glow from the flames lighting the space around them in pools of amber.

It isn't cosy but it's more comfortable by large than the cage he's got his new pet locked up in. And having been away for a few days, he's in the mood to play.

"When was the last time you were out from behind these?" He asks, tapping a knuckle against the metal, and it becomes clear that he hadn't left a particular instruction forbidding him from being allowed out. he had expressed a particularly strong view and intended punishment to any cultist who lost him, though.