Sit up prim and proper now, and give them your brightest smile.
They'll coo and call you an angel—they always do.
I sit up like a proper little angel and bat my pretty eyes, and the reaction I get is predictable. The ugly bastard reaches across his desk to touch my hair.
Now, now, keep calm and keep smiling. You can't kill him yet, nope. You have to take down everyone at once, no man left standing.
I listen to him talk to me in baby-talk like I'm not able to understand adult words, like I'm not who I really am. I try to pay attention but—Are you sure he's a good candidate? He's attention deficit disorders could react unpredictably to the addition. Oops, I didn't pay attention; too busy listening to the haunting of my past.
I tilt my head innocently and draw my shoulders in with false shyness, and though I nod at all of the things the man says, I'm just too busy picturing how pretty his blood will make the too-white walls when I'm all done here.
Blood, blood, blood—I can see red everywhere now, even though I have to swivel my head to look completely around the room. Such a shame that "addition" rendered that eye useless, but I manage.
The eye's itching again. I want to change the odd symbol and summon those powers again, the one's that make me giddy and feel like I'm the ultimate winner.
The woman who brought me here pats my hair affectionately. Her blood will paint the walls, too, even though she's been nice. No one survives. No mafia men are allowed the right to live anymore.
I giggle before I answer the question about my name. What's in a name? Nothing important. These people won't live long to remember it. "Mukuro Rokudo kufufufu." My smile's brighter, more sinister, but the dolts don't notice that. There attention is on the pretty little doll, not the corpse rotting on the inside. And I just smile and smile.