While he sat there with his back hunched forward and his hair curtaining the better parts of his face, she watched.

In a bar as run down and dingy as it could get, it was hard to stand out. All the regulars looked the same. Worn, angry, dangerous. He was no different, except... He had this visible air of decay that became most evident when he actually bothered to look up.

His eyes were a very clear blue. The kind of blue his Irish ancestors must have traveled upon by sea. The pure gold of his hair was another decoy to the real Italian blood in him. He looked like everything that he was not and she hungered for it.

For days she had watched him as he stumbled in with surprising grace. It was a strange oxymoron to witness someone make awkward stumbling look graceful and he seemed to do it with ease as if it were second skin. She had soon discovered that he was a body of contrasts. Through whispered inquiries here and there, she had gathered just enough information to strengthen her insatiable desire to unravel the mystery that was him.

He was cursed with being bred of a guinea father who had fallen for an Irish lass. The conflicting backgrounds aside, his last name was Ramone and that alone was enough to seal the deal for her.

He was a Ramone and she would be damned if she didn't have him.

So she had watched him day in and day out as he ordered the usual non-alcoholic beverages and smoked his lungs away into a blackened mess. She had observed his frail, girlish figure and the dainty but calloused hands. He was slender but clearly hardened by life.

Of course, many had told her to keep away and let the quiet remain as it was but she had never been the type to heed warnings. No. When she wanted something, she went ahead and took it and boy did she want him.

It was time to make her move.

Unlike most women, she didn't take the time to fuss over her appearance before approaching her prey. There was far too much confidence built up through the years for her to try that.

With her heels clicking in the otherwise silent bar, it wasn't long before she slid onto the stool beside the object of her desires and offered a coy smile.

"Well hello there."

Studying him had become common place for her by now and she could easily take note of how none of his movements seemed hurried. In fact, he moved as if he were an old man. Nevertheless, soon she found herself face to face with that which she had watched for days. Though, she received no greeting.

Her brow arched of its own accord despite having expected this. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

He seemed neither amused or put off by such a statement and this brought a pleased smile to her face. Hard to get was her speciality.

With obvious intent to arouse questions, she turned away from him to greet the bartender warmly and make pointless small talk. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him studying the contents of his glass intently as if he were in the middle of some mental battle.

Smirking to herself, she reached into her small purse and fished out a cigarette. Never one to carry a working lighter, she reached out as quick as a whip to grip the back of his neck.

Judging by the look on his face, he seemed more curious than angered and so she tipped him a wink before leaning in and pressing the tips of their cigarettes together until hers was lit.

There was no protest in him so she would go ahead and consider that a victory of sorts.

Taking a small drag from the cancerous stick, she allowed most of the smoke to pool out of her nostrils before leaning in for a second time to be heard.

"I'm Katherine but most people call me Kate."

She watched with a keen interest as he shifted the position of his cigarette from the left of his mouth to the right as if that alone were his version of a greeting.

He seemed to be focussing on too many things all at once as if his mind were troubled and this was obvious by the way he shifted around in his seat but she appreciated how his eyes remained focussed on hers.

So his mother had taught him his manners. She liked that.

The murmur of nearby onlookers was quickly ignored as she removed the cig from his lips to brush her own against them before whispering out in a husky tone.

"Let's go somewhere more private, Lex. Hm...?"

Of course, the vixen in her didn't expect it to be this easy but his shrug followed by the downing of his drink was enough to confirm that he was game. And so as he rose, she followed and linked her arm around his.

There was no beating around the bush. It was as if he had no intent of getting to know her and though this had been her plan along, somehow she found that she couldn't speak when he found his lips on her neck and she was downright breathless by the time he went down on her.

It was hard for her to understand. From reliable research, she had gathered that he wasn't the type who did this often. He was a lonesome guy who kept to himself and yet, he handled and maneuvered her body as if he were a pro. Perhaps that myth about some men being naturals was true after all.

Regardless, it was easily the best fuck she had experienced in years. He knew all the right things to do to make her scream and beg for more and her abuse to his back didn't seem to faze him in the least.

He moved like a well-oiled machine and for once she could see the spark of life in him, though it was faint. His face would flush and there would be a primitive glint in his bright eyes. Even in such frantic moments as these, she couldn't help but note the little details that made him what he was. She became aware of the fact that he was a gentleman who seemed intent on making her come as opposed to just getting off himself and leaving her there.

Her orgasm had been far more intense than any other that she could recall and when it was all said and done, he had lit another cigarette and slipped into another silence, leaving her to bask in her own afterglow of near perfect sex.

It was sort of bittersweet. She felt complete in many ways and yet hollow. All she had to do was turn her wearied head to the side to note how his back was turned to her and know she would never get to know the real him. There would be no opening up from him. For once, she had failed and for once, she accepted this.

Soon, she was dressed and ready to go. No words were said as she watched him. He sat on the edge of the bed, smoking away the remaining hours of the day in a manner that spoke volumes. It was clear to her that it would take a miracle to save him from whatever hole he'd found himself in and she wasn't the one who could do it. People had been right in telling her to avoid him. He was a different kind of dangerous. A kind she had never experienced and it ate at her very soul. She wanted no part of it.

That was it. There was nothing more to be done so she simply bent forward and stole a kiss from those silent lips before walking off and leaving him to his secrecy.

He said nothing to see her off and she accepted this. As she stepped outside, it was especially cold. There would be no looking back as he drew further and further away from the house, heels clicking in the silence of the street.