She wonders, sometimes, if he would enjoy blood so much if it happened to be any other color. She knows that she wouldn't. The crimson allure is seductive with its metallic taste and it's nauseating smell. Of course, she realizes that he's past the original desire and onto a transfixed addiction.

She wears a deep maroon dress that she hasn't pulled out of her closet for ages, just to see if anything is different. It's not the same, though, and she knows it.

Because it's not just the color that's drawn him into his dark hole, it's the illustrious sting as he inhales deeply after a recent slaughter, and the sharp feeling of the splatter as he licks his lips.

He paints his grey word red, but it's more than the color that gets to him. She'll never have the same effect as his lovely rubies.


He wonders, sometimes, if he would value her company so much if she played any other role. His amorous companion angers him occasionally, but she herself is too valuable to threaten.

Not that he doesn't threaten her anyway.

She'd do anything for him, that much is painfully obvious. He shouldn't even imagine the breathtaking way that the blood would shimmer as it traced its river down her neck.

Not that he doesn't imagine it anyway.

In the end, though, she's much too expendable, much too utterly worthless to waste any thought over.

Not that he doesn't think of her anyway.

Changing the way that she is, of course, would be like changing the color of the jeweled blood that he's so very fond of.

It just wouldn't have the same effect.


A/N: :O Yeah. Seriously. A series type thing. It'll display the different and yet eerily similar thoughts of Todd and Lovett on the same topics. Snazzy, yeah? Almost as snazzy as the fact that I'm a pitiful author wannabe that owns nothing featured in this fiction. However, I will be thinking of new ideas and getting them down whenever I can. Until then, play hard, play safe, and relent not lest ye be trampled and left for dead.