Vincent hadn't come into the room for several days. He had been busy dealing with his business. Vincent Nightingale was the head of the Nightingale family, and that also meant, the Nightingale Clan, a large crime syndicate that ran the Underground throughout the city. Vincent held enough power above in the city through several 'legal' business and this allowed him to get ignored by law enforcement in his Underground dealings. Many of his dealings included drugs, smuggling of weaponry or alcohol, and while he was definitely dealing with illegal trades, he had his own morals and values.
When one of his guards came knocking at his door, Vincent was at his desk, his right hand fisted in his hair and his left holding a pen as he read over a report from one of his businesses. It was losing far more money than he could understand and he knew why. His useless fucking manager was letting his friends come and use the business for their own dealings, and this cost him money.
"She's refusing?" He said, his tone full of anger and frustration as the guard explained what was happening with his little prisoner. "I'll handle it." He grumbled, waving the guard away. He put the pen down and he sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Fucking women... so fucking dramatic." He cursed.
Vincent stood and walked down to the prisoner's room. He was let in by the guards, but before the door was shut, he quietly said, "Have Dr. Morganthal come provide nutrients." "But she's-" "Have her bring the bags and if she refuses another meal... make her eat." He hissed to the guard. The guard nodded and left, another taking his place.