Nefarian Serpine is not what you would call 'mentally stable'.
It's a ridiculous notion, really. Of course he is mentally stable. He just has a flair for the dramatic. And torture... which doesn't help on the stability front, but he doesn't care. He is Nefarian Serpine, untouchable and dangerous. He doesn't have to care.
So what he doesn't understand is why he hasn't killed the boy with the annoying hair yet. He genuinely doesn't. Perhaps it is because the brat is amusing, or perhaps it is because Nefarian is truly insane, like so many proclaim. Whatever the reason, Nefarian finds himself in deep conversation with a pest half his age. "This is a pretty gloomy place you have here, isn't it? What's wrong with a little bit of sunshine? I like the sun. Nobody seems to anymore."
"Will you cease your pointless babble? You're giving me a headache," Nefarian sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. The brat - Fletcher - apparently doesn't hear him or chooses to ignore him. Either way, Nefarian wants to kill him even more. "Tell me, brat, how is it you came across here?"
Fletcher's face turns rather red. "Um, well, you see..."
"Do not test me."
Fletcher combs a hand through his hair, which appears to be defying gravity. "I'm a teleporter. I teleported here." Neferian raises a perfectly arched brow. "I was under the impression teleporters had to have seen or been in a place before teleporting." Fletcher falters.
"Oh, bloody hell. I was bored and I just thought, well... I thought about going somewhere hot and all of a sudden I'm here, with you!"
Nefarian smiles. "Well, I am rather handsome, aren't I?"
Because I can.
Come on. Don't tell me it wouldn't be totally hot if they did.
Aha.