Chris & Mina
Here he was, back for the second time in as many months, in what amounted to a display case. Chris didn't have any idea what had gone wrong with Aphrodite, where she had gone, or why the police had come to collect him from the empty house, but he wasn't being charged for anything to do with her disappearance, and in truth he couldn't bring himself to care. The whole thing really had been too good to be true; cook for a spoiled rich girl who liked to make him take baths, no other strings attached. If he was that lucky a second time around it would be stunning, so it was with the same surly attitude that he focused on the back wall, keeping his face from the two-way mirror as he carried on with a workout to keep his mind off what he was really doing; waiting. He'd been at it long enough that a stripe of sweat darkened the washed out grey of a once-black t-shirt, between his shoulderblades and down to the small of his back.
The series of sit ups didn't cease when he heard the door opening. This was his time, his workout. He didn't belong to anybody but the state for another twenty minutes at least, if then.