He'd never touched anything alive, before. Not for an extended period. Minion mostly stayed inside his bowl, and the prisoners who had raised him had never directly held him. So even when he was certain Miss Ritchi had calmed down, he prolonged the moment just a little.

She had been truly terrified. She hadn't screamed, so he'd first assumed she was braver (or more foolish) than he'd credited, but then she hadn't said a word in response to his banter. And when he forced her to look at him, removing the glove because he could and placing his hand on human skin that first, glorious time, he saw the paralyzing fright in her eyes even before he recognized that her pulse was dangerously fast. She seemed to be staring at his mouth, though he couldn't be sure she was processing what her eyes saw.

Something savage told him take it, take her, she's right there, but he squashed it. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She was supposed to scream and tremble with fear, but…but she wasn't supposed to be this afraid of him. He'd pushed it too far, somehow, just as he'd done all those times at school. In a sudden panic, he started stroking her like a brainbot.

And for once, it was the right thing to do. Her shoulders relaxed, and her head moved slightly as she took in her surroundings. Her hair was wet, but soft and fine, and she nearly gave off the same electric sparks as the brainbots. He wondered what it felt like dry and fluffy. But they had work to do. It seemed Minion had finished positioning the cameras. Excellent. He relinquished her hair, took a few steps away from her, and cleared his throat.

"I observed your last two interviews quite carefully, Miss Ritchi, quite carefully, indeed." He turned and walked across her line of vision without looking at her. "You have an inquisitive mind, a rare…" He glanced at her, and found she was listening, still wary, but attentive. He chanced a wolfish grin. "A rare hunger for the truth, I believe."

She didn't respond, but she squared her shoulders and took a steadying breath. It was a pity the rehydration process had ruined her dress, but the wet silk did cling—

"I think your last interview left you unsatisfied," he continued, a little too quickly. Be calm; be powerful. "Reflection is not Metro Man's forte." He pulled up a chair and slouched into it regally. "Neither is memory, as you should have realized when you found out about dear Dr. Stewart." He waggled his eyebrows meaningfully. Still silent, she twisted slightly, tilting her head, unconsciously (or not) mirroring his posture.

"As you pointed out, Metro Man means little to this village without me; he is the reaction to my action, the light cutting through my darkness. Yet he has been interviewed countless times and I…"

"…haven't, yet," she finished, quietly. "Is that what this is about? You want an interview?"

"Is it too much to ask for?" He pouted, leaning on an elbow.

"Do you really need one?" she asked, smiling slightly. "Don't you speak for yourself? You're on air much more than I am, you know." Her voice was shaky, but there was already some bite in there.

"Oh, but a good reporter knows how to draw the unexpected out of her subjects. Don't you want to try matching wits with me, Miss Ritchi? I think it would be fun." He was tempted to add, "more fun than dying," but thought better of it.

She stared at the ceiling. "When?"

"Now."

"I'm afraid I'm all tied up," she said airily. "Maybe later."

A laugh escaped him, so he twisted it into an Evil Laugh. He stalked over (he really needed a chair with wheels) and leaned until their faces nearly met. Her eyes were a lovely shade of blue. "Now," he murmured, then straightened, barking, "Minion! Cameras!"

"Yes, sir!"

He moved the chair next to hers and sat. He smoothed his eyebrows and straightened her bangs, ignoring her scowl. "Presentation, newsie. Minion, are we ready?"

"Yes, sir, rolling in three, two," and he mouthed one, go!

"This is Roxanne Ritchie of KMCP 8, reporting from an unidentified location," she told the lead camera in a perfectly controlled, graceful voice. "I'm here with Megamind, supervillain and evil genius, who has agreed to speak" (clever turn, vixen!) "about his past, his rivalry with Metro Man, and some of his latest plans." Quite a list she'd developed off the cuff.

"And I shall, if you keep me entertained, Miss Ritchi."

"Please," she nearly interrupted, "call me Roxanne."

"As you wish, then, Roxanne." He felt heat rising to his face. Her name was throaty and luscious, and she knew it, or at least suspected something. Damn it.

"Thank you." She smiled so sweetly. "Now, Megamind, you've said you have an excellent memory." He didn't believe he'd ever said that, but it was true, so he let it pass. "What is the earliest thing you remember?"

She was a tricky little fiend, and if he weren't careful, he would probably embarrass himself before this interview ended. No matter. Nothing was being broadcast, yet. He and Minion would be able to edit out any mistakes when they spliced the footage from the twelve cameras spread around the room. He could cut the bit about calling her "Roxanne," for example. Good. Better stick with "Miss Ritchi."

So he answered truthfully and freely. He told her of his home world, and of the black hole. He told her what he remembered of the journey he and Metro Man had taken all those years ago. He told her about jail, and about school, though he glossed over that rather quickly.

For her part, she listened carefully and pushed him to flesh out details, but there was something oddly gentle about it. There were no predatory grins this time, though there were a couple of moments he thought she might be holding back a laugh. It was probably just the threat of bodily harm, but she seemed much warmer than she'd been in the past. She raised her eyebrows the first time he called her "Miss Ritchi," but didn't comment. She was letting him enjoy this.

Her demeanor shifted when they got to his current plans, of course. She was aware that she had some part in them, and was probably desperate to know what that entailed and how it would end. But Roxanne played her hand elegantly (hard to do with your hands tied), alternatively baiting and accommodating, even a little piqued, but never dropping that warm curve at the corner of her mouth.

He finally leaned into her, in a moment he would definitely cut from the aired version, and murmured lightly, "Confess, temptress, to being the slightest bit frightened that I will do whatever I wish to you, and that no one will stop me." She colored, then laughed it off as he moved away.

"We both know that you won't get your way in the end. Metro Man will always be there to stop you."

It was precisely what he'd wanted her to say, but it hurt like a physical blow. He nodded, recovering, then barked out an Evil Laugh. Facing the camera directly, he said:

"Is that true, old friend? Will Metro Man agree to leave Metrocity forever in exchange for Roxanne Ritchi's freedom? Or will the lovely reporter suffer a fate worse than death? Will you leave Persephone to shine only for the dark denizens of Hell? Let's put thirty minutes on the clock and see, shall we? Don't keep Miss Ritchi waiting," he finished with a slight bow.

"And…cut!" Minion smiled. "That was great, you two! Really exciting. They're gonna love it!"

"Of course, Minion. The dish won't fail with such good ingredients." He switched on the television and tuned it to her station. "You did very well," he told Roxanne as he and Minion departed for the editing room.