Greed's face falls uncharacteristically; when she asks, "...tell me about this place-?" His eyes narrow behind his shades and he slowly edges his fingers open to let her palm sit inside his own. The skin there is rough; calloused when it needs to be and smooth where it shouldn't. He grits his teeth and the bones in his spine go stiff.

What it used to be.

"Eh - not really a story someone like you should hear," the Sin says as he shows her up the stairs. "-but I guess there's no use hiding it."

The feeling is something he's felt only once before. A twinge; like a vice snaring him from the inside. Tightening around his core and begging for a payout: for revenge, though he'll never get it. "They were mine."

Up the stairs is a hallway. Just as gloomy and dank as the rest. Windows had been left open and now they, too, are in pieces. Letting the torn drapes waft as the wind shifted. It's cooler on the second floor; a chill catching through the floorboards.

"Ran into a little bit of trouble. I guess you could say I never really got along with the rest of them." The six others. Sins incarnate with legs to walk, with voices to speak. He was the oddity out of them all; separate from the others and this had been his would-be kingdom. Made in wood, carved in liquor.

In all the things he really wanted.

But that's old history. Older now that things have come and gone. And he's the only one left.

But even that isn't entirely right either.