— I'm not here looking for absolution —
He would not respect her if she begged, even though there is something of an addict shining back at him when he watches her. Something that craves the hit of death he offers her—the way that she practically leans toward it, as though the gravity of the promise was enough to be her undoing.
He would not respect her if she begged—
but he would not come back if she did not want it.
What an interesting web the two of them weave.
His smile is cold and empty, but he does not deny that he has come here of his own accord. That whatever exists between them is an interesting enough premise that he does not turn his cheek toward it completely.
Still, he baits her, toying with the viper as though hoping to find the edge of her fangs.
“Fine,” he repeats, his voice cold and heavy on his tongue. “How thrilling,” his lips peel into a smile and he makes a motion. “Come, come. Why stand so far away?” He ignores her question about himself entirely, brushing it aside with the arrogance of someone who has never needed to answer to another.
“And the children? They have been raised well?”
He waits, his face composed into this mask of faux interest, the poisonous sides of it leaking through the darkness of his eyes, the place where all humanity bleeds away, leaving them cold and empty.
“They most certainly wouldn’t not know who I was,” his voice trails off as he looks way and back to her.
“That would be foolish, indeed.”
