“Don’t fret so, my dear Torquemada, I’ve not forgotten you.”
The words came as fleeting comfort for the Cenobite, he’d heard the words countless times afore. He knew what they meant and they caused him to toy subconsciously with the stitches that cut into his flesh. The reconfiguration of his flesh was long over due and despite the concern that was etched on his face, he felt a flutter of excitement for the change that was due to commence.
I’m not sure about the blue background here, it looks a little vibrant for the character in question.