A person's killing method is very telling. You are no exception, though some might disagree. You kill quickly sometimes, slowly others. You watches them die, stay with them until the end. But sometimes you leave them as they're choking on their last breath. I understand. You don't give a damn. It is all based on your mood. Which translates into: you're unpredictable. Which I already knew. I could take you apart and reassemble you and still not know what goes on in that pretty head of yours.
But I apparently have a death wish and in wanting to know more about my new partner, I took you to a whore house. I didn't know if you preferred guys or girls. You picked a girl. She was pretty, but personally, I thought you were prettier
I watched you fuck her. It was chillingly brutal. Brilliantly violent. Spectacular. You were silent, eyes blank and focused on the task at hand – making her scream in pain. Of course, you killed her after – but we paid the manager off, so it was okay.
The next time, you chose a guy. It was bloodier, and you fucked him with a sword. Even I shivered a bit at how little emotion you portrayed as his innards were exposed. Only a quick smile graced those thin, cruel lips.