Doflamingo

The night is advanced and the wind in Dressrosa carries with it a cloying scent.
You run barefoot down the corridor; the feathers and the carpet under your feet make no noise.
Every gate of the castle, every wall, seems to mock you: this is their kingdom, their world.
You've just opened the window facing the outside wall and the cold wind hits your face.
The next instant, a thread so fine it's almost invisible cuts through the air and delicately entwines itself around your waist.
"You move fast."
The voice, deep and measured, comes from the darkness.
You turn around and see Doflamingo standing in the shadows.
The pink feathers shimmer in the moonlight; he smiles—it is the smile of a hunter who has found his prey.