"I'm big into tragedies."
"Yeah?" He asked. "How'd you like to be one?" The curious look in her eye made him smile. They were always curious, always willing… He had proved his mother right – people don't learn.
"What do you mean?"
"I can show you." He gave her a playful smile to cover his annoyance at her high-pitched laugh that was grating on his nerves. To him it was the equivalent of nails scratching a chalkboard but he had complimented her on it in an effort to be charming. She was who he was looking for.
"Sounds mysterious."
"Very." She was close enough that her scent invaded his nostrils – strawberries. In a practised move, he gave her a quick kiss to the neck before whispering in her ear: "come home with me."
"Okay."
In his mind she'd just consented to everything that was to follow. She was complicit in her own tragedy – falling in lust with a pretty face, agreeing to go home with him despite knowing nothing about him and agreeing despite him asking if she'd like to star in her own tragedy. Given that she likes tragedies she should have at least known the definition of the word … someone always dies.
And well… He was giving them their own story. Their own chance to star in their own tragedy. He was giving them their own ending – one that would be remembered.