" — The mansion's basement was rarely used for this purpose. Among the barrels of aging wine and thick, humid air was a few holding cells. The Cartel rarely took prisoners- past leadership was much more likely to just flat-out exile or murder those who wronged the group in such a way, but little "pacifistic" Asimov had instead sentenced his first prisoner, if only temporarily.
Notes had been found in his bag; incriminating evidence, detailed information on high positions, but most of all, information on Asimov that he'd like to keep secret. Why would anyone take notes like this if they weren't some Exiles or Ruins spy? He would have to interrogate the hybrid tom, but not alone. See, he wanted Cairo to get some experience in, so he had asked his son to meet him outside of his bedroom, and the two had made their way to the basement. "So we'll do a bit of good cop, bad cop," Asimov instructed to his lookalike son. "... Hmm, I can do either role, but... I feel like you've got a lot of anger you can use," Asimov asked, tilting his head.
Once roles had been decided, Asimov's scarlet gaze turned to the holding cell.