Tate
Tate grimaced as he tenderly prodded the swollen skin around his eye. He didn’t have a mirror to see the extent of the damage that Warmuth had done to his face over the course of the last couple of weeks, so his fingers would have to do. Tate winced as he gently explored a half-healed gash behind his left ear. It seemed that Warmuth was getting desperate for information, Tate thought to himself as he shifted on the bed before lying down. Between none of Warmuth's so-called spies not seeing Kelly in weeks, which Tate was extremely grateful for, and Tate’s own act of indifference, Warmuth was growing desperate and becoming more violent by the day. Tate could see the insanity in his eyes as he contemplated what to do with Tate, and when he couldn’t make up his mind, he’d beat Tate into
