Horst shakes his head, not letting Long tease the rest of the tale out of him that easily. Some things are a bit more incriminating, and a great deal more painful, than others. He's not ready to bare his heart to so nearly a stranger, even one he's beginning to think of as a friend.

Still, a bit of a teaser has its own appeal.

"Ah," he says, forcibly pulling himself back into a cheerier demeanor. "I'm afraid you do -- you presume I escaped. I never did. I spent some eight years and change in my little prison, with nothing but my own sparkling personality for company; I assure you, after that much time, even my charm wears thin." He pouts for effect.

"Someone eventually released me from my miserable, socially lacking state. But that, I fear, is a tale of its own, and I a mere bit player in it. I can't sell all my stories so cheaply." He winks.

"And now, Herr Long, I do wonder if I can beg a favor of you. If it's not too much trouble."