IV. Romantic
-—Lust doesn't understand humans' concept of love.


"Hey, sweetheart, you doing anything tonight?"

"My flat's only a car ride away, if you know what I mean..."

She's seen the looks, the longing glances and the lustful eyes (because, really, that's all she's composed of), but she doesn't quite understand why.

She knows she's beautiful, curvy, sexy, seductive; she knows she can bend nearly any man to her will. That's why she's so often sent on reconnaissance missions with Envy, after all.

But all of what she does, it's an act. She knows exactly what to say, what to do, what to wear, because it's her entire being to seduce men. Men in love (or lust) tend to give more information...especially information of the sensitive sort. And, of course, they never see it coming when she kills them with a flick of one well-manicured finger.

She's never felt any sort of remorse for doing these things, but every man—of those who don't die immediately—stares up at her with disbelief, hurt, betrayal in his eyes. It doesn't bother her that she's used dozens—hundreds, perhaps—of human men for her Father's benefit, but sometimes they make her wonder.

What is this love, this romance they all speak to her about?

She knows, intellectually, that it's when two people enjoy each other's company—exchange the same words and do the same things that she does with her victims...but they don't get anything out of it. There's no information gathering, no using the other for your own gain...

It's a strange concept, and she wonders at the point of it all.

It's mid-February in South City, now, and she's supposed to be seducing a captain for sensitive information on a terrorist cell. He's of a higher rank, so she has to be careful, make sure to leave no trace of her handiwork...because even though Wrath could get it straightened out, she won't accept anything less than perfect for herself.

She passes a store in the market—a restaurant, she notices as she looks closer. The inside seems to be full of red and pink hearts, flimsy tables, pairs of humans sitting, talking, kissing...

Oh, right.

It takes her a moment to remember, to realize that they are human couples courting each other, simply basking in each other's company. She pauses to look in through the glass. The couple nearest her (young, perhaps early twenties—the woman is small and blonde while the man is wiry and tall) is engrossed in conversation. The man is wearing an expression she's seen often—sappy, awestruck, totally, totally engrossed—but...she doesn't understand why.

The girl's hair is long and not especially pretty; her eyes are a dull, pale blue; her chest is nearly flat, and her legs are not at all flattered by the skirt she's wearing. But the man, inexplicably, looks at his partner the same way as Lust's victims look at her.

Why?

She can't understand...

But it doesn't matter, not right now. She's due to meet the captain in five minutes, and it won't do to be late. So she pulls her gaze from the humans and their strange customs and their romance and turns down the street, deciding not to give it a second thought. She has a job to do, a Father to please, and such things will not tarnish her well-bred mindset on humanity.

(It still haunts her, though, from the back of her mind. And she never understands why.)