Gilbert watched this spectacle with a very bored uninterested expression. A drink in his hand, a countless empty and full bottles on the table. This was the VIP box that was only privy to him and whoever he deemed worthy to be up there with him at the time.
But he didn't feel like he wanted company these past days, so he sat there alone, drinking and watching the bloodbaths happening beneath where he was sitting.
Both the exterior and interior were made of hard beautiful glass. One that let those inside see what was happening, but those outside couldn't see anything, not even a silhouette moving about inside.
Trent stood by the door, formally like a butler should. Though his face was conflicted, he didn't know whether to say something or not. He remembered how exciting his young self was when his father took him to this place.
