Worry
He stops her on the sidewalk, not far from one of those modern pubs (horrid things they are), inviting her inside for a drink; "My friends will worry," she says warily; "Just one drink," he says engagingly.
Blessing
He speaks to her as a father speaks to a child who has done something wrong–with disappointment and ignominy; she doesn't feed quite right, yet, but with each kill, she becomes deadlier, more efficient, gradually earning his nods of approval.
Questions
Every time they encounter each other, he has his pick and choose of questions he'll answer for her, much to her chagrin; he conveniently avoids the most important one of all, though, in all his arrogance and superiority—"Why?"
Sordid
"I will kill you!" she screams at him, and he laughs at her, mocking and cruel; he straddles her hips, the bed breaking the silence as it creaks in response to the shift of weight; she tries to ignore the underlying sexuality of it all, choosing to hang on to her anger
War
She thinks she understands the art of war, but she doesn't—tempered by her "professor's" unrealities of the way things should be; she doesn't quite grasp the concept that one man's idea of peace is another man's idea of destruction.
Author's Notes: Thanks for all your reviews so far. :) I really need to stay away from my comic book collection. At the rate I'm going, nothing will ever be finished.