Visitation Area

A visitor had arrived. Belle sat in a wheelchair and waited patiently, four attendants standing next to her in case the straps holding her down had failed. The security camera up in the corner of the room faintly buzzed as it refocused on something. Nobody said a word. An electronic chime echoed from an attendant's pocket, and he promptly walked over to the giant double doors and let someone in. It was a man with course, blonde hair that sat atop his head in a sideswept cut. He claimed to go by the name of Charles Grendel. He wore a suede red suit-coat over a faded yellow polo, with leather boots that reached his calves. Despite a scar that ran from the center of his throat down to his clavicle, he had an overall ordinary appearance.
"Is this her?" He asked, his sharp blue eyes looking Belle up and down from beneath dark sunglasses.
"This is miss Lefaun, yes. You have a maximum of 20 minutes to talk, but first sign this form of release. No physical contact with her or any of the other patients, please."
Charles hastily scrawled a signature at the bottom of the clipboard, without taking his eyes off Belle. He squatted down to eye-level, and the corners of his lips turned upwards once their eyes met.
"Good evening, miss Belle. Remember me?" Grendel let the sunglasses slide just far enough down his nose that Belle could over them. A cataract clouded his left eye, and his eyelid hung droopily over it. That gaze was all too familiar, but Belle knew enough not to say anything. Instead, she smiled.

"Indeed I do, Father. I've missed you terribly."