“Mr. Thorn, it’s good to see you’ve come.” The voice came from the confinement of the shadows, from a space that didn’t appear to hold much of anything, yet alone a man and his shaking captive. Riddle stood beyond the curtain of darkness despite not being seen, and at his side, slightly behind, there was Logan, timid and nearly broken, but still holding fast to his mind.
The boy had served his purpose. He had spilled every desired word from his mouth, had explained all that his captor had wanted to know. Logan had been useful from day one, but now it was time to move on, for the muggle was no longer needed in any way, shape or form.
He was not below handing him over to somebody who desired his presence. He could have gotten rid of him with a flick of his wand, could have watched him crumble to the floor, lifeless and stiff. It was something that could have been done in an instant. Damien had shown interest though, and if the boy wanted what he no longer had use for, then he’d be handed his remains. Logan would not be given a second thought.
Riddle stepped away from the shadows and into the faint light of the moon. It was difficult to make him out, hard to see him even with the dim glow. His attire was dark and the only color came from the emerald green lining of his trench coat. Logan on the other hand, was easier to see, with his white t-shirt, his faded jeans. He was clean looking but his eyes were red and bloodshot, either from crying or from lack of sleep.