Eight years ago, Paul Ryan opened the Lament Configuration and survived. That pallor and pained look on his face is due to the tight weaving of barbed chains crisscrossing his body underneath his ill-fitting suits. He is simultaneously always on the verge of tears or orgasm (or both). His sweatiness and intense, predatory gaze is due to his constant knowledge that he must harvest souls for the Cenobites, lest he himself be taken to Leviathan.
His every movement, pain.
His every thought, pleasure.
His every desire, oblivion.
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