Victor had managed to keep himself calm and behaved, Violet's empathy helping keep him relaxed and sedated. So long as he did not think about it, did not look at her, he could make it a mostly enjoyable night. He was careful with how he behaved himself, many humans knew him from the coffee shop and would chat with him almost as if he were an equal. Almost. There were many more to who he was only an oddly colored dog who only warranted a second glance due to his unique looks. To that lot he was careful to avoid, keep quiet and lower his eyes, the the humans who took an interest in him, he made sure he was charming, outgoing and friendly as ever. It was an interesting line to walk.
That was when he heard that voice. Pixie. Megan. The line of scales that marked his brows knitted, turning to look toward the pink haired girl, wincing at seeing the hands all over her. It was another harsh reminder of the night. He had nothing but respect for the poor pink haired girl, how she was able to put up with this demeaning treatment, yet be all smiles, bounces and rainbows during the day he would never know.
How had a night which started so great turned so terrible so quickly? Vic forced his eyes away from Pixie, he doubted she would want him to see her like this anyway. He was suddenly eager to get out of here. To get back to his cell, to maybe see Mason. He suddenly needed to be held, to be assured that he mattered, as he surely did not to any of the suits in this room.