Can You Survive Blaine Boysmell/ToolScythe

"Can you use that hand scythe?"
He picks up the object you point at, scowling in your direction.
"This...? Juniper's sake...it's called a sickle."
You nod, and apologize for getting it wrong. He sighs, staring down at the tool you chose with a look you can't quite discern.
You ask if something is wrong.
----
----
"Yes, many things are wrong with this situation. Generally speaking, the work I do is frowned upon by most."
You tell him that isn't what you meant. He gives you the scowl again.
"It's hardly any of your business."
You tell him you might be able to help, and that you're a counselor.
"...no shit? I kind of thought you were just a blank slate character...someone the reader can put themselves in the shoes of."
He sits atop one of the boxes blocking the door on the opposite side of the room, looking at the ground.
"Not that you should care even remotely about my circumstances, given the grave ones you yourself are in...but I have an...associate who wields a scythe."
"Just an associate?"
"That'd be the million gil question."
"What kind of guy is he?"
"He...? It's a woman, god damn it! Why does everyone assume I'm gay?!"
You stare vacantly.
"...well I suppose it's not a completely unfair assumption. But as far as romance goes- which isn't far, mind you, I've little use for it in my life- I'm not the picky sort."
You continue to listen silently, nodding every now and then to let him know that you're paying attention. Because you don't want him to kill you, and whatnot.
"Anyhow, this woman...she's very peculiar. Deranged, you might say. But not like I am...I would classify myself as a sociopathic researcher. I've no illusions of nobility, but I do think that what I do has a purpose. I'm making a difference."
You agree with him, because again, you're hoping to avoid getting unusual chemicals injected into your bloodstream and shit.
"My...associate...she seems to rather enjoy what she does. Hers is a much more reckless, unpredictable sort of bloodshed. Something about it makes her difficult to write off. I never once longed for companionship before meeting her. Talk about a bad influence..."
You suggest that maybe that isn't the case, as it doesn't seem like he or his "associate" are the sort of people who can get any worse.
"No, maybe not. If only she weren't acting so strangely right now..."
"Strangely?"
"As far as I can tell, she's been abstaining from her usual practices...she even sent me a letter about it. Were that not the case, I'd have already offered you up to her. Or...maybe not. Taking the hunt out of the equation might spoil all the fun for her..."
You blink, vaguely horrified at his casual suggestion of letting you be killed for sport.
He shrugs. "What would you have me do, buy her a pretty necklace? No...that's the sort of thing I do by day, when I'm looking for a different kind of fun. A completely meaningless fun. But she's not..."
He pauses, shutting his eyes with a huff.
"She's different. She's important. Not just to me...to the world. Without people like her, we'd all live in a boring, unending safety. Nothing would ever get done. Nothing would ever be learned. That's a much scarier prospect than the situation you're currently in."
You respectfully disagree.
"So, you being a counselor and all, what exactly would you suggest?"
You try to think of a way to respond, but you're cut off after just a few moments of silence. The Viera scoffs.
"That was a joke. I'm far beyond the point of being helped by someone like you...and my only hope for anything on the romantic side of life is a relationship as twisted as I am. The sort of relationship that, to be blunt, you are far, far too sane to be giving advice about."
You concede.
The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes.
"...that was...unexpectedly nice. Being able to speak on such matters with another person. I suppose I should thank you."
He doesn't thank you, but the sentiment is expressed, you reckon.
Your captor isn't happy by any means- you doubt his capacity to experience happiness, at least not an untainted, pure form of it...but you seem to have made some kind of progress...so it seems like the right time to ask.
"Can you let me go?"
You aren't met with the immediate, angry rejection you expect. No, your captor only continues to stare. You swear you can almost see his gaze soften, perhaps as he has a change of heart...?
"Having any level of respect for you, no matter how miniscule, will undoubtedly affect my efficiency in the trials to come. "
He gets to his feet, grabbing a knife from the table and approaching you. You shiver as he kneels down to your level, raising the knife...and cutting your bindings.
"Follow behind me," he says. "Don't make a sound."