There was, in fact, nothing wrong with living your life on the line; the young witch was right. Perhaps only in semantics, but she was right. Surely, there had been times when I wanted my life to be less full of the characteristically excruciating occurrences that found their way into my existence, but never would I have ever wished for a boring life. Then again, never would I have ever believed my life could be boring, no. There was too much of me for that. There was too much mind, too much hope, too much heart...too much of everything for me to be limited by normality and mundane boundaries. For anyone who was in my vicinity for more than a moment, they were subject to this too. I tended to swarm into someone's space and touch their life with an irrevocable infection that would fester and, eventually, ruin them. While I believed myself a virus, there had been times when maybe I was more benign than malignant. Maybe I offered something to those whose lives I touched. And then again, perhaps not. Perhaps Serafina was one of the latter, and in her life I existed as a malignant tumor, something that only surgery would remove. It was due to that unwarranted, negative notion that I gently stepped away from my thoughts and attempted to become more present as she spoke to me but not before finding a half-smile taking my lips with a decidedly wry flavor to it.

I never really did like vodka, but she deserved recognition (read: my eyebrow rose slowly, arching itself in subtle amusement) for the blatancy with which the shot was thrown back against her throat.

"I'm not entirely sure the lunatic fringe is under the umbrella of living my life on the line."

I started to speak, more or less without any recognizable tone if only due to the fact that I had nothing further to add. We'd established this, now, as fact; there was no use offering her any other of my opinions on the matter, even if I wanted to tell her that I was trying to turn around and walk the other direction to leave the lunacy behind. I'm not sure that it wouldn't follow, anyway. While my words were more thoughtful than anything else, I had yet to catch her eyes studying my features as if she'd find some kind of hint there. There was none, save for perhaps a hint of entertainment I'd mustered due to the circumstance I'd found her. It was only as her indignant exasperation was audible that I cocked my head to the side and moved my chair slightly so that she would be in my immediate focus. I found a pair of sterling eyes waiting for me, piercing past whatever amusement I'd harbored and branding me with a moment's worth of reproach.


"Something tells me you watch too many crime shows," I began to say, gritting my teeth as if that might help me hold back a rush of irritation. Strangely enough, I wasn't beginning to feel any kind of anger, no frustration. Perhaps Serafina was right... maybe murderers did have real relationships. The idea flit through my mind like a preview of a television show I'd seen where the main character was a compulsive killer... No. I did it because it was necessary, and then necessary became easy. It was a learned skill that I could carry out without much thought or effort; it was part of the very fabric of my being.

Okay, maybe it was a little compulsive at this point. But who was I to argue with truth?

"I wonder," I mused, my eyes gleaming with a newfound mischief. "perhaps I'll pose that question more often. I can even help other people out by putting your suggested title on a nametag." Generally, I was comfortable hearing truths. But the way Serafina said murder, there was a certain venom in both her voice and my perception that I couldn't deny. "Maybe I'm a ...Hm...Which is it that debates doing the action, and one does it? The psychopath actually does the action? You're just food for thought over there."

Maybe it was time to put to rest some of these tendencies of mine. I thought the trip to Africa might do it; and surely it did. However, the reprecussions of a healthier lifestyle sought me out, here in this bar, while I watched the young woman sipping her drink in a way that made me thirsty. As my words were waved off, it seemed like the woman in question slipped into a character she'd played many times. Apathetic and mild, she shrugged when she explained that post-traumatic glimpse into the Life and Times of Davante Dorian, she was fine.

Kiss my ass.

"...Alright hold up, hold up..." I trailed off, hearing the twist in her words long after she'd said them. "Are you trying to insinuate you'd like a relationship with me?" I couldn't keep the grin from prying it's way onto my unyielding lips. Pursed into an unwarranted smirk, I licked my lips to keep the amusement from my face before hearing a bark of laughter fall from my lips in relation to her ... tumbler-tower-of-terror. "I can see it now. 'Hi, dad, this is Davante. He's a convicted serial killer, self-proclaimed psychopath and his Shadow is a voyeuristic hooligan." All the while my words were tumbling from my lips was my Shadow actually doing the tango with Lust, who had materialized off of his own ethereal skin. For the first time, she was here for me. With pretty emerald-like eyes did she stare at Serafina, a knowing smile serenely drawing her features before the Shadow took her in a different direction as they danced atop the numerous beer taps that were hanging from the bar. Instead of fighting the expression that was a little bit softer, I allowed my eyes to soften and my hand to extend to her, obviously insinuating she scoot a seat closer to me. Like the gentleman I am, I took barely a moment to move her pyramid with just the smallest of flourishes of my hand, the glasses moved to the space between my seat and what I intended to be her's.

"If you said you're fine, I would have to say the same. And nobody likes a liar," I began, my voice only briefly tense. My eyes met her's, as if asking for the vulnerability that swam there to be validated. That it was okay I was a little anxious, especially as I shouldn't touch the substance that was refilling her glass as we spoke. "I'd love to get drunk and end up tangled up with you more than we already are... I didn't ... The night in your shop I wanted to do things to you that aren't even something I can say in a public place. It was never that, I just thought it'd be much harder for you to get past the hurdles I throw, without even meaning to. I don't like when people get close, because when they do, they never look at me the same. Don't think I haven't spent too much time thinking about you, because I have..." I sighed softly, wanting to be outside more than anything as the interior of the building began to make me feel claustrophobic. In an attempt to brush off whatever vulnerability I'd given her a glimpse of, I quietly lit a cigarette before returning my attention to the pyramid.

"Of course I intend to buy you more. How else am I going to make sure you come back with me?"