Talk to Mitch outside the stairs.

Stairs to the Auction House basement

Mitch hands you his tin of cigarettes and flashes you a knowing smile. This time you reluctantly take one and lazily hang it from your lips. He chuckles and pats you on the back before leaning in and offering you a light. It's been a while since you've smoked and the sickly sweetness brings back bitter memories. You cough up the first pull but like a fish in water, you breathe in the nicotine like you've never quit. After a couple of minutes of smoking in silence, you turn over towards Mitch who raises one unkempt brow. You then solemnly ask him,

"Does it get worse?"

Mitch stares off for a moment, blowing a large cloud of smoke. He taps his foot on the stairs before answering.

"For us, not really. Not yet anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"We're at the bottom of the totem pole. We deal with Detainees on level A. This thing goes down three more levels if you can believe it. Shit gets more fucked the further you go down. Haha, so don't do too good of a job or we'll get promoted."

"So what I'm getting at is, they **** people up before selling them? To make them more obedient?"

"Maybe, maybe not. Remember, we're only level A. We only get to see the surface of all the weird shit they do in there."

"Oh and between you and me. I don't think this needs mentioning but I will since we get along. Don't mention what we do here to anyone else outside of work. I'm being serious. The day before Chubs disappeared he was mumbling something about exposing this place to the public."

"I thought you said he quit."

Mitch takes another puff before snuffing the last bit of his cigarette. He stares at you and smiles.

"By the way, you're single right?"