"Good afternoon, Kitra." There was a fleeting tone of professionalism in the shrink's voice until the psychopath shut the office door behind him and took a seat. She was writing something on that favored clipboard of hers before she looked up, tossing him the pack of Carnivals, only for him to catch it in one hand and make his way to the window to take a seat on the window sill, striking one up almost immediately. "Good to see you decided not to skip our session this time." "You say that like I've missed one yet." The psychopath responded, throwing in a snicker at the end. One of the sticks were brought to his lips and an ink-covered hand cupped the match as it was lit, casting orange and yellow light across his somber features. "Good to see you're still breaking the rules by sneaking a prisoner smokes." The flame was extinguished with a flick of his hand before tossing the burnt out stick into the trash can beside her desk.

"Only when they've behaved themselves." There was a hint of a smirk on her otherwise professional expression, crossing one leg over the other as she turned in her chair. The clipboard rested flat on her lap, her laced fingers resting on top of the sheet of paper clamped into place. She was staring directly at him, watching him.

He caught the glimmer in her eyes, the hand that was holding the cigarette to his lips slowly lowered to his lap. His fingers were curled around his thighs, leaving his shoulders arched as he leaned forward in his seated position on the sill. "I take it you have something specific you want me to talk about today.." There was a twitch in her smile as she looked down at her hands. "Intuitive as ever, Kitra." She slowly raised her gaze, only to meet his head-on. "I want you to talk about Lisa, today."

Nostrils flared as smoke plumed from them, resembling that of a dragon. He licked his lips, remaining silent for a moment. There was a touch of guilt on his face at the mention of Lisa. He sighed, curled fingers around his thighs falling away from the fabric of his orange jumpsuit to twist his torso and flick the creeping ash off his cigarette. "I figured it was only a matter of time before you'll pull that one out of me. Where do you want me to start?"

"From the beginning." She stated it simply, though he had looked away from her, her piercing gaze remained strong on his rigid frame.

He sighed, the muscles of his jaw working before those baby blues matched her stare.

When he looked up from his clasped hands, she was staring at him.

"What did you think when you heard the screaming?" Her head tilted to the side, curious eyes planted on the psychopath sitting on her window sill.

"I didn't. I just kept going in the direction of the screaming." He shrugged, and it was only a faint gesture as he reached for the pack of Carnivals she had given him. This was why. If she wanted him to talk, there had to be something for him to do with his hands. Nicotine made it easier for the words to be spoken. Something to focus on while he let his mouth do the talking, not really thinking about it.

"And when you saw what was happening in the alley way' How did you feel?" She was playing proper therapist. Asking the same old 'how did that make you feel' questions. That's all they ever ask. But he played along with it. If he wanted to get out before he was 50, he had to.

He let out a sigh, waiting to answer the broken-record questions after he'd lit his cigarette. "I knew what they were going to do to her. I could hear it in their voices, I couldn't see their faces but I knew what they wanted. I don't think she even knew what was going to happen to her." Cheeks indented as he took a rough pull from the stick scissored between his fingers.

"When did you decide you wanted to help her?" She was definitely being thorough with her questions. Delving into the mind of a psychopath. But there seemed to be more there. It was genuine curiosity. Kitra was a strange case to her, why he'd snapped. In his records, the report of him telling the cops what happened to Lisa when they managed to catch him, he was honest. He told them exactly what happened that night, why he'd done it, and then took them to the body before he'd been arrested. And he didn't struggle when they cuffed him. The psychologist was trying to understand the man sitting in her office.

"I didn't decide on anything. Before I knew what I was doing, I was already moving." His eyes shifted to hers, cheeks denting as the cherry of the cigarette crackled and flared brighter with the inhale.

"Why didn't you just let the man run away?" The psychologist's pen was flicking back and forth in the air, side of her palm rested against the clipboard. Her thumb and forefinger wagged the utensil back and forth, seeming to be a tick of hers that Kitra'd noticed. Tick number one.

He peeled his glacier hues away from the hypnotizing motions of the pen, flicking his gaze to hers. "Because I didn't want to."

"Did you feel like you were doing the world a favor" Getting rid of two potential rapists or muggers?" Her head canted to the side, watching him as she asked those investigating questions to get a better grasp of his mind.

"No. I didn't care what they were. I just.." He sighed, an artfully inked hand reaching for yet another cigarette from the propped and ready pack that was left open on the sill. It was how it went, she asked questions, he answered and smoked like a freight train. He couldn't keep the cigarette pack with him so he only had two hours to finish the pack. Lighting one with another match, the soothing aroma of the match filling the space around him. "I fell into my head, I shut off my thoughts and I just moved. I didn't think about what I was doing, I just did it. And then they were dead."

She watched him for a hard minute, her stare lacked any form of judgemental thoughts or horror at his actions. It was like he was a puzzle she was trying to figure out. After the moment had passed, her eyes ticked to the clipboard in her hands, giving a curt nod. "Alright. What did you do with Lisa, Kitra"..."

"What I do best." He scoffed, his mouth puckered around the cigarette as he took a deep pull from the cigarette to fill his lungs with the toxic smoke.

"You moved on a whim." A faintest of a chuckle fell from her lips, glancing up at him. This was not their first session, no where near it. She had figured out his impulsive nature by session 11. It had taken them a long time to make it to the topic of Lisa. Like any proper psychologist, she went through the whole jig. How was your childhood" What was your relationship with your parents like" Were you abused as a kid" Did you ever kill a puppy with a screw driver" Okay, maybe the last one wasn't a normal psychology question, but it might as well be.

There was the slightest of smirks on his face while he nodded in agreement to her words. "Like I said, what I do best."

"So you brought her home." The psychologists arms were crossed over her chest, an incredulous look given in his direction. "That's what your impulse lead you to?" Her tones were never full of judgement, and that he was thankful for. Instead, she seemed mildly surprised.

"It was either that or leave her there in the alley. Something could've happened to her." He shrugged, though his tone and posture seemed nonchalant about it.

Her eyes narrowed at him. She wasn't glaring, but studying him. It was nearly impossible to tell if he cared or not, but she was going to figure him out completely. Trying to delve into the mind of a psychopath or sociopath when you weren't one was a difficult job, you had to understand what you otherwise wouldn't to know how their minds worked. "If she was unconscious that long, the cops would've taken care of her." She offered, trying to figure out what had really gone through his head. He was hiding something from her, she was sure of it.

And he knew. There was a twitch to the corner of his mouth, that threaten of a smirk before it was held in place. "Sure, they could've. Whenever someone might've eventually made the call in. Or another thug could've gotten her." Another rise and fall of his shoulders as he leaned back against the barred windows of the office. "But I guess we'll never know. I took her home."

Her lips twisted as she bit at the inside of her lip. She studied him for a moment longer before nodding, lifting up the clipboard from her lap again and wrote something down. "Did you take her home then" Or wherever she was staying at the time?" Back to the investigative questions.

He cackled under his breath, an inked hand coming up to scratch at the shaved side of his head. "Not exactly."

She was watching him intensely now, every movement he made she caught with her naturally icy gaze. "What about emotional distress makes you so uneasy' What emotions particularly set you off?"

He should've seen that question coming, and he scowled when she asked. Sliding off from the sill, he took the few steps toward her office chair. It was big, plush and comfortable behind her desk. It was a swivel one and it was one of the few times he could actually take comfort in furniture in the prison. As long as he opened up and answered her questions, she didn't seem to care what he did or where he sat in that office. So he took advantage of it by sinking into the chair and resting his arms along the wooden armrests. Slouching down and getting comfortable before his gaze finally met hers. A slight shrug of shoulders were offered in her direction. "So far, the only time I really freak out about it is crying. The second tears show up, I'm out of there."

Her hands clasped together, now shifting her weight in her seat to lean on one hip and an elbow on her own armrest to get a better view of them. She was worse than those paintings hanging on walls, the ones where their eyes followed you wherever you went. "What about people easing their distress by tears makes you so uncomfortable?" The tone was less accusatory as it was genuine curiosity. Her leg came to rest over the other in her shifted position, her foot restlessly shaking back and forth. Another tick of hers. Tick number two to be exact. Like him, she didn't seem to like sitting still for too long. And they were only a small fraction of time in their session.

"I don't understand it." He was simple in his answer, but something was telling him it wouldn't be enough. The woman liked to pick apart his brain, in great detail of how he felt, what he was thinking and everything she could pry out of him.

Surely enough, he was right. "You don't understand the emotion' Or the use of crying?" Her stare was relentless.

He sighed, the back of his head falling back against the burgundy leather of the chair. "I understand it's useful for small children that can't yet express their needs with words yet." There was a pause, a darting glance towards the pack of Carnivals before he grunted and reached over the arm of the chair for one. Using his feet to push the chair closer to the window, as he was instructed to stay by the window while he smoked. "But I can't fathom why someone gets so overwhelmed with emotion that they can't control themselves and waste time by crying."

Her gaze turned down, her head shaking. "For some, it relieves that stress. Some people just sit there and have a good cry and go about their business. It eases anxiety, pain, emotional hurt. Do you ever feel sad, Kitra?" There goes that curious cat gaze again.

"Sure, I drop a bottle of Stoli and I get sad about it. But I don't fucking cry over pointless shit. I get a new bottle and suck it up." He snickered, tucking one of the cancersticks between his lips and bringing the tip to life with a flick of the match.

There was a light chuckle from her, which she tried to hide behind her fingers. Regaining her composure, her hand dropped to clasp together with the other. "Some things hurt more than a broken bottle of liquor." She offered, her head tilted. "Loved members of the family dying, for instance."

His glacier gaze met hers, giving her a seriously" expression. "A wasted bottle of vodka is a devestating ordeal, thank you." After which, he smirked, filling his lungs with the smoke. Back to seriousness, "People die every day. It's not something to cry over. You deal with it, you move on."

She was silent for a moment, shifting her hands to write something on her clipboard. "Alright, point taken. Let's move on. Why did you shrug away her praise of saving her?" She inquired, the tip of her pen coming to her mouth to chew on it. Tick number three..

He snickered, a slight muffled pop as his lips broke away from the filter of his cigarette, a wisp of smoke trailing upward only to be inhaled by his nose. "Because I know women. The last thing I needed was her to develop White Knight Syndrome for me." There was a bland cackle that left him, a grimace following.

One of her skillfully angled brows lifted quizzically. "White Knight Syndrome?" It was clear by the tightness of her lips that she was trying not to laugh at his way of wording it. "So you were worried she was going to get attached to you?"

He nodded, one small curt nod to her question. "I'm not the kind of person to get attached to." He snickered, a pause where he stared out the window for a moment before turning back to her and taking another drag off that awful cigarette he seemed to favor so much.

"What makes you say that about yourself, Kitra?" She watched him, shifting her weight again as she leaned back against the backing of the chair.

He sneered at her slightly, his lip curling as if he couldn't believe she'd just asked that. His blue hues narrowed slightly as he canted his head to the side. There was a bit of coldness there as he retorted, "But that would just ruin the end of the story, wouldn't it?"

"So, you did take her home then?" Her eyes narrowed at him, seemingly confused.

"I tried to, but it didn't really work out that way." He snickered, now finished with his cigarette. His fingers were laced over his abdomen, he was slouched low in the chair with his elbows propped on the armrests. His legs stuck straight out on the floor and his ankles were crossed. He was swinging the chair back and forth, restless as ever.

"Tried to' What happened next?" Her gaze was downcast, writing something on that damn clipboard of hers. After a few seconds, she looked up, the pen tucked between her forefinger and middle finger, flicking it back and forth between the two fingers. He was half expecting it to fly out and smack him, but it didn't.

His cheeks puffed out and he exhaled, turning his head to look at the clock. An hour left.

"So you took her out to eat...why?" She seemed curious to why he kept going out of his way when he seemed to care nothing about the girl he was describing to her. Her fingers laced together and rested on the top thigh of crossed legs. Her head tilted to the side while she watched him, waiting for an answer.

"She looked hungry' I don't know. Figured it might help her remember if she snapped out of her funk. Food sometimes helps." He shrugged, not seeing the big deal in taking the girl out to eat. He was still slumped in that office chair, arms extended over the armrests as he moved his chair from side to side with the heels of his shoes.

She chewed the pulp on the inside of her lip. Tick number four... She shook her head, shifting her weight to sit up straighter. "We'll come back to that. So, a bit delayed, but you finally got her name. Any particular reason why you didn't shake her hand" Do you usually shy away from physical contact?" She was staring at him like a cat with a canary now, like she was trying to peer into his soul to figure him out.

Another shrug was given, another sigh, another cigarette was reached for. "I don't particularly like physical contact from people I don't know for shit. Who does?" The stick was pressed between his lips, another match struck to light the cherry of it.

"Does it have anything to do with your mother?" Her eyes weren't glaring, but they were narrowed. Like she was trying to use the force to pull the answers out of him.

He let out a tired sigh, a large plume of smoke erupting from his mouth like a volcano. "Last I checked, we were talking about Lisa, not my mother." His jaw was tight, and he'd been reluctant on sharing the details, mostly because it wasn't a subject he liked talking about. Vaguely, sure. But picking apart his past with that monster, not so much.

She was silent for a moment before she nodded, looking down at her laced fingers with a faint curl of a smirk. "I guess you're right. Let's not get side tracked." The desire to know the details he'd been waiting on spilling about his mother flickered in her downcast gaze, but she didn't continue asking. He'd comply when he wanted to, not a moment before, that's one thing she'd managed to figure out. "How did the meal go?"

Glad that she let the subject pass for now, he simply took a drag from the cigarette and turned his head toward the window, letting his gaze linger on the sky outside while he talked. "Pretty uneventful. Basic small talk about Russia, if I was from there, she started talking about the small town in Wisconsin that she was from." He shrugged again, scoffing. "Boring shit."

She nodded, clearly not interested in the small talk that she already knew about him, and the fact he didn't seem too interested in the conversation meant it wasn't anything important. That much she'd learned about him. He didn't waste his time with minor, unimportant details. "Alright, then what happened?"

He snickered then, shaking his head as he got to that part.

He was tired of sitting, so he walked around the office. The psychologist's eyes followed him through the room as he studied for what felt like the hundredth time the same items he'd studied when restless legs got the best of him. Who knows, maybe he'd missed something before" Regardless, she never stopped him as he looked over and picked through the items on the shelves, the books, the nick-knacks sitting around the office. As long as he didn't bother with any drawers that were locked, she didn't complain or stop him.

"What?" She inquired, probably towards his reaction as he brought up what Lisa had told him. "Why do you shake your head at that?" Yup, should've known.

"That's when I knew..." He stated, almost matter-of-factually, picking up a psychology book whose author he was unfamiliar with. He flipped through the pages, scanning through some of the words and some stood out to him. He memorized the title and would remember it for when he had more down time.

"When you knew"..." She arched one fine brow at him, not a hint of doubt in her voice but continuous curiosity as it seemed that's all she had for him. Her head tilted to the side, waiting for him to explain further.

He slid the book back into place, allowing another snicker to release from between his teeth. "That I was right." He shook his head, and she sighed. She was getting tired of the clipped sentences where she had to ask more questions. He did it on purpose to irritate her. Hey, if he was opening up, she was going to have to deal with him being a pain in her ass at times. Just when she opened her mouth to ask what were you right about" Those baby blues ticked over his shoulder with that coy smirk of his. "White Knight Syndrome. It was written all over her face....her eyes....the tone of her voice.." He sighed, fingers grazing the bookshelf as his eyes returned to them.

She didn't seem to doubt the fact that he was sure of it. "What did you do with that knowledge?" She inquired, subconscious tick number three arising again as she chewed on the tip of her pen.

He scoffed, glacier orbs rolling in his head at the question. "You keep asking questions you already know the answers to." He kept testing her, just as she kept testing him to see how far he'd go to open up. He...tested how much she was figuring out about him. Instead of outright answering her questions, some he had her figure out for herself.

And she knew it. There was a twitch of a smirk that didn't quite break through her professionalism as she pulled the pen from her teeth, hands moving back to her lap. "You used it to your advantage. But why' If she seemed so skittish, what purpose did she serve to you?" Her eyes didn't move away from him for a second, they rarely did.

"Boredom." She gave him a strange expression, wordlessly inquiring explanation with her eyes. He glanced over at her and caught it, smirking. "Most things get boring when little phases you.." He shrugged, moving on to an aloe Vera plant that was freshly green, distracted for a moment as he squeezed some of the sticky residue onto his fingers.

"So she was a tool of amusement for you." Something he liked about her was the lack of judgement in her tone with every question she asked him, there was no looking down on him like others before her. It made him want to kill them, this one....he didn't mind her.

"...Something like that." His tone was flat, wrinkling his nose as he pressed his thumb and middle finger together...then apart...together...then apart. She was something to play with...to study.. "She was innocent. Almost sickeningly so."

"Did you want to ruin that"..." Her head canted to the side, whether she did it out of habit or she was trying to catch his gaze, he wasn't sure in that moment.

"A little bit.." He admitted, not meeting her gaze but only because he was currently trying to find something to get the aloe off his fingers. He didn't explain further. How do you explain to someone who wouldn't understand, that he didn't know what innocence was like? For him, or anyone he'd known before Lisa. Home wasn't innocent, it was savage.

She watched him for a moment, silent as it was now her that was studying him. "Is it the term or the idea of rape that doesn't phase you?" Again, no judgement in her gaze or tone, and that was appreciated. She had turned her swivel chair to face him now that he had sated his restless legs for the moment and was now sprawled on the shrink's couch.

His hands were tucked beneath his head and they shifted slightly as one shoulder lifted. "I'm not interested in the ideals, but the term itself doesn't bother me. Things like that are....normal where I come from." His expression was blank and his baby blues ticked to meet her stare dead-on.

Her brows furrowed at that, a clear expression of confusion. "I don't remember Moscow ever being quite that crime filled." She never really doubted him, but some things he said she didn't understand when he mentioned where he came from. He hadn't told her about where he was really from yet. He would save that for later. She wasn't ready for it yet. Not until she understood him more.

He exhaled through his nose, then grunted slightly as he shifted his weight and position to allow himself to sit up. His legs swung to the floor and he leaned back against the back of the cushions. His eyes ticked to the clock, half hour left. "Thing's change. And most people don't see what happens in the darkest parts of places. They either choose to ignore it, or their brain cuts out the possibility, not wanting to accept that some people can be monsters hidden behind human faces."

Her sights were relentless on him as she stared. She had more questions about home, but she paused that for now while she inquired in something else. "Do you think you're one of those monsters?"

"That depends on a few things." He snickered, leaning forward and pressing his palms to his knees as he eased himself to his feet. He only had a half hour left to finish the pack of cigarettes she'd given him. He moved over to the window, and sure enough the sound of a creaking chair followed him as she turned to watch him.

"Depends on what exactly?" Indulging in his dramatic pauses even though the tapping of her pen to the clipboard lightly sounded through the room. Tick number five..

He took a seat on the sill, wasting no time in lighting the end of the cherry with another match. His eyes squinted as he looked at her through the hazy smoke that billowed up from the cigarette, scissoring the stick between two fingers while his other hand shook the flame out on the match before tossing it into the trash can. He inhaled deeply, jaw muscles shifting as he watched her for a moment before answering. He licked his lips and exhaled the smoke from his nostrils. "It depends on your definition of a monster."

She stared at him for a few seconds, as if contemplating her upcoming response. "Honestly?" She paused for a moment, and it caught his attention, it was now his turn to stare at her. She glanced down at her clipboard, almost hesitantly telling him this. She had his full attention at this point, his unblinking stare. "I think everyone has a monster inside of them, capabilities of thinking those dark thoughts. It's all a matter of who's monster is more dangerous, and how well controlled it is." She glanced up at him, twirling the pen between her fingers. Tick number six. She was turning out to have a lot of those.

He watched her for a full minute, inhaling his cigarette as they stared at each other. He considered her words, and finally the stare was broken so he could nod and turn his torso to flick the creeping ash into the tray beside him. "You make a good point.." His gaze ticked to her as he turned his body back to where it was. "Do you have a dangerous monster?" There was a threatening twitch of his mouth, just that hint of a smirk that wanted to make an appearance there, even a bit of a flirtatious glint in his eyes as he brought the cigarette back to his pale lips.

Her expression said nothing less than her sternly fighting a smile to what he said, his smirk, even the glint in his eyes. There was that one breaking moment of professionalism where she made a remark. "Are you the patient here, or am I?" That oh so very faint curl of lip that she couldn't control. Progress..

"Fair enough." He snickered, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before he flicked more ash away, only to bring the stick back to his mouth soon after.

It didn't take her long at all to regain her composure, a slight clearing of her throat before she changed the subject all together. Perhaps talking about their monsters weren't the best idea for the moment, she decided. "When did you learn to pick locks?" She inquired, and he had to look at her to see if she was asking that question. One brow of his had raised, that look of amusement. That little bit of unprofessional-ism had shaken her just enough to make her ask about lock picking. He didn't think that little bit of break through was enough for her to be shaken....unless it was her thoughts that shook her more than what she'd actually said or done. He smirked faintly, hiding that curl of lip behind the stick tucked between his fingers.

"Why don't we just get back to the story?" He suggested, and she gave him a look like she wanted to glare at him for calling her out subtly about what he'd seen. But instead of doing so, she just nodded. "I think that would be best.."

She watched him for a long moment, an expression of blatant curiosity and amusement plastered on that professional face of hers. "So she kissed you?" Her head tilted to the side, possibly trying to catch any of his reactions.

"On the cheek...yeah." He shrugged, seemingly now nonchalant about it. He swiveled in the office chair, perched in a crouch on the seat. He was getting restless, as he always did at the end of the sessions. A glance to the clock would tell him there was only 5 minutes left. And she wouldn't let him leave early. Well, he had one cigarette left in the pack so he promptly lit it up.

"How do you feel about that?" She asked him, and it seemed she was feeling just as restless as him. One of her legs were crossed over the other and the top foot was just shaking away in the air.

"Now" Or then?" He sighed, and it expelled a large plume of smoke from his nostrils. He always seemed to get grumpy in the last five minutes. Probably because she was still asking questions. Logically....sure, it passed time. But not the kind of time he enjoyed spending.

"Both." She clarified, her pen now moving much like her foot was, back and forth and back and forth. So on and so forth.

He should've known she'd want both..."Then" I was shocked. I was pretty anti-physical contact. So I wasn't expecting of all things...a kiss on the cheek. It seemed ridiculous to me." He shrugged, placing the heels of his hands on the chair armrests as he dropped his feet to the floor, holding himself up with his arms before plopping down in to the chair with a bit of racket. He didn't care at this point to be cooperative.

Her jaw muscles tensed and she gritted her teeth to him abusing the chair, but she let it slide. "And now?" She inquired, because what else is new..

He made a long sigh, his head tipping back and he stared at the ceiling while he took a hefty drag from the cigarette. But he answered like the good little prison robot he was being. "Now" I know she was expressing her gratitude. That she was a...sweet girl that just wanted to show a.." he wrinkled his nose a bit, "sweet gesture in return for what I did. Are we done now?" He sighed, his head snapping forward to stare at her, his hand coming up just as quickly for another drag.

"Not yet." She informed him, that pen and foot just going at it. At least she was moving on from pointless questions. "Why did you give her your phone number? You could've just left it at that and be done with it." Even her eyes ticked to the clock, she must have a break coming after this session.

He just raised his brows, giving her an expression that screamed that he was waiting for her to figure out the simple answer.

She sighed, nodding as she pinned her pen to the clipboard, "Impulses. Right." He nodded once, finishing off his cigarette after two quick drags and then stubbed it out. "Alright, Kitra. We're done here for today. I'll call for your escort." She reached forward and stopped the recording of the tape as she did every session. She got up, opening the door, "We're finished. He's good to go." She informed them, as Kitra stood to his feet and walked over to the two guards that always came to pick him up.

The sound of his phone buzzing on the coffee table is what woke him up, sprawled across the couch is where he crashed from over-indulgence of liquor. His head turned from side to side as he let out a groan, eyes fluttering and reluctant to open. A single hand came up to rub at the corners of his eyes with a middle finger and thumb. Without looking, his free hand came out to the coffee table to pat at the surface in search for his cellphone. It stopped buzzing in the midst of his search, and he huffed under his breath. It took him a bit, but his eyes finally cooperated with him, though his head wasn't.

Whoever it is can wait. His legs slid off the couch to the floor as he turned his body to sit up on the cushions, rubbing his temples with both hands since he'd given up the search of his phone. Hair of the dog. A hand moved down beside the couch to pick up a fresh bottle of Stoli, twisting off the cap and popping it in a random direction with his thumb and the side of his forefinger while he took a few (un)healthy gulps of the clear liquor.

Now that he could open his eyes, he retrieved a cigarette from the table next, seemingly to be his morning routines as of late. Afternoon routines" What time is it" He lit up his smoke with the pink Bic in one hand, setting aside the liquor for now as he picked up his phone. Hitting the central button, the screen light up and made him blink away the blurriness in order to read a number he didn't recognize. He dismissed the message letting him know about the missed call in order to check the time. 11 am, who the fuck is calling me"

He took his sweet time calling the number, downing a good half of the bottle and finishing a second cigarette after stubbing out the first in an ashtray that was already half full from the night before. Stubbing out the second now, he let out a large plume of hazy white smoke and reached for his wife, Janie. A foot-long hot pink bong that he'd had since coming to Earth from Cold Harbor. A bowl of the good green stuff later, he leaned back against the cushions with his phone rested in his lap. Alright, now we're talking. The touch of a hangover was lifted from his no-longer groggy head, he was no longer seeing through a blurry haze either. Time to get to business...

At least he assumed it was business. As he sighed and hit the redial on his phone, he hadn't been expecting the chirping voice on the end of the phone and it took him a moment to place it. "I didn't wake you or disturb you did I?" His brows furrowed as his eyes closed, head tilting back against the couch. Who in the hell....Oh....Lisa. "You did the first time, but it's cool. Just gave me more time in the day to drink." He snickered, opening his eyes as his head came forward. "What did you want?" He tried to make his tone seem more inquiring than snappy towards her, curiosity hitting him in the gut.

It had been about 3 days since he'd helped her that day, with no call in between he'd wondered if she'd actually grown half a brain and decided not to call him after all. That probably would've been the smarter decision. And her next words cleared that up for him, "I was going to call sooner but.....I figured you'd want at least a few days before hearing from me again." She giggled, but there was a hint of nervousness in her tone as well that made him roll his eyes, wrinkling his nose as it had seemed the entirety of his headache hadn't left and the motion had given him a couple second spike before dulling. "And you're calling now because...." He waved a hand in a circular motion, even though she couldn't see it. Get on with it girl. Such the grumpy bear when he first wakes up.

"Oh....um....I finally got some things squared away. Found my purse, turns out I had forgotten it in the bar or someone had found it outside and dropped it off for them to hold onto. Everything was there....Now that I've got my possessions back....I was wondering if you wanted to do something today. Repay you for what you did." He could almost hear her pacing from the other side of the phone. Thought I told you not to mention it, bitch. Instead of saying that, he just crinkled his nose, his impulsive nature taking hold. "Sure, why not' I don't have shit to do today other than get plastered. Sure my liver could use the break." He scoffed, not that he needed to worry about his liver anymore, but that was for a different story.

She let out a little squeal of what he assumed was nervous excitement, which made him close his eyes and hold the phone away from his ear until it stopped, of which he returned the device to the side of his head. "Do I even want to know what that was?" His brows were furrowed, and he genuinely didn't know what the hell that had been about. She cleared her throat and seemed all the more anxious, "Sooorry about that...Um...even if you did, I'd feel a lot better not telling you about it. It's embarassing..." The tone in her voice was sheepish and apologetic, and he could almost hear her blushing from the device pinned to his ear even though the idea of that was impossible.

"Then let's not waste time with your awkward chick squealing." Unless it's a different kind of squealing... "You want me to meet you somewhere or what?" He let out a soft grunt as he pushed his lazy ass from the couch and onto his feet, heading in the direction of the bathroom. If she wanted to hang out, he was in desperate need of a shower. He smelled like he bathed in vodka and nicotine from the night before. "Um, I need to get ready so....Meet me outside my hotel in....an hour?" She said the next quickly, as if to reconcile. "If you want to that is. I can meet you somewhere closer if you want."

"See you in an hour then." He didn't tell her which, she could figure it out. He hung up, tossing the phone on the sink counter as he started stripping down. Let's see what her idea of hanging out is... Something told him it wasn't going to be his idea of fun.

Waiting outside of her hotel, leaned against a wall with one foot lifted and planted against the wall of the building in a lax demeanor was where the Russian remained. A glance to the time on his phone while he took a deep drag from his cigarette, his hand coming out to flick a section of ash from the tip. Women... She was about ten minutes late, and as if on cue she pushed out of the swing doors with gusto, head swiveling back and forth and seemed to be nervous, if it was any tell that she was thrumming her bottom lip with her fingers.

His foot slid from the building as he shrugged away from the cement wall, taking a step forward as his foot hit the pavement. The small noise he made caught her attention and she turned to look at him, giving him a sheepish wave. "Hi! I'm sorry for being late....I swear, it's like my parents know when I'm busy and decide to ruin it with a phone call." He just shrugged, taking the last hit from the smoke before pinching it between two fingers and flicking it toward the street, just to spray embers at the impact. "It's fine, gave me time to smoke a cigarette." He seemed to be okay with everything, but truth be told, he couldn't feel anger or irritation so she got off easy with being late.

In tight skinny jeans, calf-high boots and a v-neck t-shirt beneath a form fitting jacket, Lisa let out a sigh of relief, possibly thinking he was going to be angry with her. Fingers brushed aside the stray locks that seemed to not want to stay in her ponytail and instead fall across her forehead and frame her face. "So, any suggestions of what we can do around here" If not, I googled a few things." He raised a brow at her, shaking his head. "I don't get out much, so I'll leave the planning to you." She grinned then, her bubbly nature coming out of her like a cascade as she pushed away the sheepish awkwardness, nearly skipping up to him then past him. "Okay, let's go then!" She pulled a piece of paper out of her jacket pocket, pausing as she gave a look around. It clicked in his head that she was looking at directions, leaving him to sigh before turning on a heel to follow her. Something tells me I'm not going to like this... Such an optimist.

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Somewhere along the way, she'd snagged his hand and was trying her best to tug him in various directions to try to find her destination. His boots slapped the pavement, having gotten past his grumbling fit at the physical contact. "Where the hell are we going anyways?" He growled, since she hadn't told them what she had in mind. Her cheeks puffed out in frustration, brown brows furrowed as her head swiveled, looking for the next street. She seemed to want to surprise him, though it was pointless if she couldn't find the place. Finally, she sighed and looked over her shoulder at him. "Gorky Park. I know the website said it's better more for the locals than the tourists....but it looks like fun. I want to see it." She muttered something, looking down at the delicate etching on the piece of paper then at the streets around them.

At the mention of the Park, he rolled his eyes but it wasn't so much because of her destination but if she'd mentioned it before, it would've saved her a good 15 minutes of searching. "The best way to get to Gorky is by taking the Metro. C'mon..." He sighed, twisted his hand out of her grasp only to maneuver his fingers and loop them around her dainty wrist, beginning to tug her down the street. She let out a squeak at the sudden motion but promptly followed when he started pulling her. She nearly skipped up beside him, and when she did, he dropped her wrist. He wasn't one for hand holding. Fingers dipped into his pockets for his pack of Carnivals, plucking one from the pack and offering the pack out to her as he lit his. She looked at it for a moment, keeping pace with him, and just blinked at the offering. "I....don't smoke." With her wrist now free of his grasp, her eyes ticked to his for a moment before looking away. She seemed a bit embarrassed and he didn't understand it.

Taking a deep drag, he shrugged and pocketed the pack. "Suit yourself." She chewed on the pulp of her lip, glancing over to him. "Can I try yours?" He gave her a questionable look which she promptly cleared up, "I just don't want to waste one if I don't like it." His brows furrowed then and he scoffed. "Wait, you've never even tried one before?" He seemed incredulous at that fact, possibly because he'd been smoking since he was 9, even if it was just a cigarette he'd stolen from his mother now and then. A rosy tinge spread across her high cheekbones and she swept her fingers across her forehead to rid it of stray hairs that refused to stay in her up-do. "I was kind of a sheltered kid....Neither of my parents smoke and I went to a private school, so..." He snickered, "Let me guess, you hung out with the cheerleaders and book nerds instead of the crew that was smoking behind the bleachers." He rolled his eyes some before they drifted in her direction. "No! I ran track." She huffed at him for accusing her of being a cheerleader. He hand his hands up, like she had a gun on him, smirking. "Alright, fair enough." Another drag was taken before he held it out to her. "I ran track in high school, too." He admitted, then gave her a once over. "Sprints" Hurdles?" Inquiring what she preferred.

"Hurdles, long jump, triple jump and vaulting." She took the cigarette, but more held it like it was a joint. Made him question some things, but even the way she held it was still wrong. He raised a brow, not only curious at how she was going to take her first hit off a cigarette, but her role in track and field. A glance down at her legs answered that, they seemed well toned but remained slender, and they were long. Eyes trailed back up to her face, "Not bad." He watched as she brought the filter to her lips, a little hesitantly before wrapping her lips around it and....took a bit too much of a hit for her healthy little lungs to handle. She turned her head and balled a fist, bringing it in front of her mouth as she coughed into it, holding the cigarette back out to him. Her face scrunched and she clearly seemed to not like it, her head shook back and forth as she kept coughing, small plumes escaping her lungs with each hack. He cackled, shaking his head as he took the cigarette back. At least she inhaled instead of taking a bitch hit. He couldn't stand it when people just kept it in their mouth and blew it out, the smoke not even going into their lungs. Wasteful...

Her hand smacked into her chest as she let out one final cough, her voice a bit raspy as she'd stopped walking in the midst of her coughing. "For the record," as if to clear up what he might possibly be mentally accusing her of. "It wasn't the smoke....those taste awful! What are they"!" Her nose crinkled as she disdainfully glared at the cigarette as if it'd done her wrong. He raised a brow, glancing down at the cigarette in his hand before he took a drag from it himself. "The fuck you talking about' They're Carnivals." He gave her a look like bitch, don't you be talking shit about my cigarettes. Her nose crinkled and she shook her head, starting to walk again while clearing her throat with another cough. "I want to try a cigarette that doesn't taste like butt." He rolled his eyes at her because she didn't even seem to swear. Where is this bitch from"! He already knew that answer, but he couldn't fathom what kind of family she came from. Innocence wasn't something he understood.

"Ass." He looked at her, raising a brow. She seemed confused, blinking at him as her walking hitched a bit. "What".." She didn't seem to get what he was trying to do. He smirked, taking another long hit from the stick scissored between his fingers. "Say ass." He quirked a brow, waiting expectantly. "Wh-why?" Her brows skyrocketed and she looked at him like he had two heads. "Just say it. You're in Russia. Your priss ass isn't going to last a damn day if you don't toughen up a bit." He stopped walking, seemingly refusing to budge until she complied. She stopped when he did, turning towards him and rubbing her upper arms through the jacket as she chewed on her lip. A sigh left her as she looked at his stubborn expression. She let out a groan and mumbled, "ass..." He cupped a hand around the curve of his ear, raising his brows and leaned his ear toward her. "What was that' I can't hear you, Mouse." She puffed out her cheeks and made a frustrated sound at him. "Ass," she whispered at him, brows furrowing as it was just a little bit louder. "Hm?" He kept it up, leaning further, taking a drag from his cigarette again. She let out an irritated squeak, almost stomping her foot before stopping herself. "Ass, okay' Ass! ASS!" She glared at him then, gripping her arms.

He smirked, ridding himself of the gesture with his ear and he straightened his frame. "There, was that so hard?" She just responded in glaring at him, which only made his smirk turn into a grin. He nodded his head towards another street, turning towards it. "C'mon." His feet already started moving in that direction. She blinked, seemingly confused for a moment before she walked quickly after him until she'd caught up. "What' Where are we going?" She looked over her shoulder to where they had originally been heading. He glanced over at her, taking the final hit from the stick before pinching it between two fingers only to flick it toward the street. "To a gas station. You don't like Carnivals" Let's try a couple others." She looked at him incredulously, having dropped the glare in the midst of her confusion. "Wait, you're getting me cigarettes....just to try them out?" She didn't seem to understand the logic in that. He only shrugged, continuing to walk. "Might as well, Gorky isn't going anywhere. It'll still be there later." He looked over again, giving her a challenging look and waiting for her to back down. She didn't though, so that was another brownie point for her. She sighed out of her nose then nodded. "Alright, fine. Like you said, Gorky isn't going anywhere."

Gorky Park turned out to be an all day event. Between the amusement park rides, including the Ferris Wheel, convincing her to get on the small roller coaster. Entry for the park itself was free, so they could spend freely at the concession stands and various small shops where she wanted to collect "souvenirs" of their trip to Gorky. His souvenirs tended to be far more nefarious than a little statuette of the Buran space shuttle that was on display at the Park. But to each their own.

Getting closer to dusk, where the sky was turning that hazy shade of blue before it turned black, the Russian and the tourist had ventured off to a fountain to enjoy their last snack of the day. One of his personal favorites, Pirozhki. Simple dishes that were like a Russian, homemade style of a hot pocket. Warm, gooey dough filled with various items like meats and vegetables, cheeses. Sometimes baked, but these ones were fried and delicious. The two watched some entertainers playing music and dancing in the dusk of the evening, some of them were holding and maneuvering glow sticks like they were trying to turn Gorky into a sudden rave. Completely contrasting with the music, which sounded like the offspring of folk and africa.

Glacier hues darted from person to person as he sat on the edge of the fountain with Lisa, taking small bites of the Pirozhki in his hand. People watching, studying, it was something he found himself often doing. Like some live action Discovery Channel documentary, watching the behaviors of humans. Within valid reason to, the humans of Midgard were much different than that of Cold Harbor. They were carefree, often reckless, and he hadn't seen a single person look over their shoulder like someone was going to come out and tear their throat out. It was a sight he was still getting accustomed to.

Lisa, on the other hand, was gawking at the entertainment before them, watching the movements of the dancers with a beaming smile around her bite of the doughy hot pocket. She popped the last of the Pirozhki into her mouth, using her freed hands to clap around the crumpled napkin to the performers when it seemed the song was near ending, the dancers slowing their movements and swayed slightly and clapped for each other. "After the crazy things I've seen in my short stay here....it feels so good to see this."

Distracted from his studying, the rest of his own concession-stand delicacy going to his mouth as he crumpled up his napkin into a ball just to flick it toward a nearby trash can. Baby blues shifted over to her, a single blonde brow lifting questioningly until he realized what she meant. "Gorky seems to be pretty lax compared to the rest of Russia. From what I've noticed, it's almost like a sanctuary to the rest of the insanity here." He snickered at the word insanity, a word he used more for her benefit than his own. Compared to home, Russia was a cake walk on a spring day.

Watching him toss the crumpled napkin with ease into the trashcan, she made a failed attempt to mimic his actions. Swing and miss... Having swallowed her food, her cheeks puffed out as she watched the ball bounce off the rim of the bin, rolling to the ground. He would've personally left it there, not caring much for the whole littering ordeal. But she had different plans. Scooping herself off the edge of the fountain to make strides with her long legs toward the napkin, only to bend over —something he didn't miss the view of with his baby blues— and snatch it up, dropping it into the bin.

She seemed to pause, giving a look around with a rather peaceful expression on her face. "I love it here...It's kind of scary, but places like this.." She took a deep breath, taking in the cool breeze that was slowly turning cold as they edged closer to the night, the scents of the nearby river, the concession stand food and the close by flower beds from the walking park itself. "It's like....finding that last M&M at bottom of the trail mix bag where there's only nuts and raisins left." Her button nose crinkled softly at the bridge, an almost embarassed laugh rolling from her lips as she looked at him then looked down.

He watched her almost silently, picking his teeth free of the remnants of the Pirozhki with his tongue. He listened to her talk for a moment, then let out a cackle. "You spend all your time looking for M&M's, you're going to get fat with cavities." He teased, placing his hands on the back edge of the fountain as he let his torso lean back comfortably. "And nuts are good for your health." A coy smirk that he couldn't resist as he watched her look at him with a slightly confused glance. Her virgin innocence only made his smirk widen. "Plenty of protein.." A quick succession of his brows raising as it took her a slow moment before it clicked in her head and her eyes grew wide, her high cheekbones flaring a pretty shade of pink. She looked like she was about to stutter some nonsense and make a fool of herself until he nodded toward an elderly gentleman who was opportunely picking a wedgie. "And we've got our fair share of raisins up in this bitch." He let out a cackle, laughing harder when the elderly man gave a glance around then broke wind. Childish amusement, but it still made the Russian laugh.

Past the moment of the perverse comment, distracted by the mention of the "Raisin" and the ungodly sight of him picking at his underwear, she lifted a dainty hand to cover her mouth as she strained herself to keep in her laughter. Remaining unsuccessful for the most part. "Oh my god....You're terrible.." She accused, shaking her head as a bout of laughter seeped out of her lips.

He gave her a cheeky grin, having lightened up around her little by little throughout the day, he was actually acting a bit human instead of robotic sociopath. His gaze shifted to her, one of those baby blues closed in a wink, "the worst....don't forget it, doll." He teased, shifting his weight to lean on one propped hand to reach into the pocket of his loose jeans for his pack of Carnivals, sparking one up with ease and set the pack along with the lighter on the side of the fountain before resuming his lazy lean.

Her hand dropped from where she was cupping her mouth, the blush had mostly left her cheeks....up until the moment he winked at her. The corner of her lip caught between her teeth as she looked to her shoes, those arms —that seemed to be a tick of hers— curled around herself like she was giving herself a hug. She glanced up after a moment of silence, a seemingly impulsive moment of her own as she walked over to him. Her stride looked far more confident than she felt, using the opportunity of him being distracted by the movement of those packing up their music equipment to leave. Footfalls brought her between his outstretched legs, just in time for him to look up at her questioningly, brows slightly furrowed. She reached out, snatching up the cigarette he held poised between his lips since his hands were busy with keeping himself upright. She let him continue his questioning gaze until it narrowed at sight of her taking his cigarette between her own lips for a drag, resisting the urge to wrinkle her nose at the taste of his god-awful cigarettes.

It was then that she stopped dicking around and went along with her original plan. It was swift, soft and a fleeting brush of lips that was brought to his mouth when she leaned forward, using one hand on his shoulder to keep herself balanced. Her stride towards him was far more confident than her executing her plan of kissing him. She seemed unsure of herself, a bit awkward and she withheld her shyness....up until she moved to upright herself. That blush returned to her cheeks as swift as the kiss she'd given him, her eyes darting away as she slowly held out the cigarette to him. "Thank you for taking me here today..." It was hardly more than a whisper, and she felt proud of herself for not stuttering those words.

His gaze didn't leave her for a moment, watching her take his cigarette and a small smirk portrayed as she bit back the urge to make a face at the taste of it. He'd let the cigarette thief get away with that one. She'd clearly learned not to talk shit about his favored cigarettes! It was the kiss that caught him a bit by surprise. He didn't show shock by his expression other than the faint lift of brows as she leaned forward, using him for balance and smeared her lips across his. The hell kind of a kiss is that' Tease... He didn't say anything, but a soft snicker left his lips as she leaned up and thanked him. He watched her for a good moment, shifting his weight on the fountain edge as he reached out to take the cigarette she offered back to him.

It was his turn to catch her by surprise. He took a lasting, final drag from his cigarette while she stood there awkwardly but didn't move away, hugging her arms around herself again as she seemed to force herself into watching the crew of dancers and entertainers clean up from their gig. Worked just fine for him, as he pinched the filter of the cigarette between his middle finger and thumb, flicking it away from them before abruptly leaning forward to snag his arms around her waist. She let out a squeal of surprise, arms that were hugging herself had moved the moment he got close to her and she put her hands on his shoulders. Her eyes were wide as she was given only a second to give him a what the hell are you doing"! look before he flashed a wicked grin and pushed himself back....taking her with him right into the cold water of the fountain.

Gripping onto his shoulders, she didn't have time to wiggle free of his grasp, mostly out of confusion of his intentions. Being pulled into the cold water of the fountain was not what she was expecting. Letting out a high-pitched squeak as she squeezed her eyes shut before she fell onto him and into the cold water, the shallow pool enveloping around them both but more him than her. It wasn't that deep, no more than a foot and a half, but it was more than enough to send a chill right down to her bones. There was a bit of flailing from her until he let go of her tiny waist, letting her upright herself as he lifted himself from the water with a sputtering cackle.

...That is until she shoved him under the water again as she used him to upright herself, resulting in her sitting on him and giving him one hell of a narrowed glare with those brown hues. Lifting himself out of the water again, he had collected a mouthful of water and the moment he'd broken the surface of the water, he spat the mouthful at her. Her head turned away, eyes squeezed shut again as she swatted at the stream that he was spurting at her. "Ugh! Stop it! You're....you're..." She seemed to fighting for the right word, sputtering herself as some of the water hit her in the face.

When all the water had escaped his mouth, propping himself on his elbows, —as well as ignoring the glances of those passing by the two in the fountain—, the wicked grin made a second appearance. "I'm....what?" His brows rose, blonde bangs sticking to his forehead as he peered up at her, not without noting that she was sitting on him. For now, he allowed her to remain there. With the water no longer being spat at her, she turned a narrowed gaze to him, only to falter a bit. What originally looked like anger turned to mild irritation. A threatening twitch of a smile came to the corners of her mouth as she peered down at him. "An ass!!" She let out a soft, whimsical laughter as she cupped a hand and swatted at the water, sending a wave the chilling liquid headed straight for his face. His cackle was cut short by the sudden burst of water to the face, making him turn his head to cough and spit out a mouthful of the water again. It didn't stop him from looking at her with a gaze and smile laced with mischief.

"And if I get so much of a sniffle...I'll....I'll..." She stammered again, looking away for a moment as she tried to think yet again of something that she would do. He rose up from his propped position, sitting up in the water which only knocked her down into his lap. Her gaze turned to him with wide eyes as he was only a couple inches away from her face, peering at her with eyes full of daring challenge. "You'll..." He drew out the word, giving her an expectant look. "And what exactly are you going to do?" He was taunting her at this point, his cold hands from the icy water shifting to her hips which brought a shiver from the girl, a soft chattering of teeth. "I-I'll..." She shivered, moving her arms in between them so she could hug them around herself, this time for warmth not nervousness...though that was right below the surface. "I don't know what I'll do....but I'll come up with something clever." She shot at him, puffing her cheeks out. She wasn't intimidating in the least, and it brought a full cackle from him, his head tilted back.

"Uh huh.." He didn't seem all that convinced, giving her a flashing grin that was returned with an untrusting glare from her, just as his grip tightened on her hips and he shoved her off his lap and into the water with an evil cackle like a damn villain. She let out a yelp, flailing a bit until she scrambled to her feet. "Ass****!" She barked, letting a pitiful excuse of a growl escape her teeth as she watched him get to his feet.

His brows lifted and he turned a genuine smile on her, nodding his head. "Now we're getting somewhere..."

"Hello?" The voice that answered on the second ring seemed no less than surprised at the random phone call at two in the morning. But from the lack of grogginess, she didn't sound like she'd been asleep. Surprising, she doesn't go to bed at 8 pm.

The thought brought a soft snicker from his lips as he kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. "You weren't asleep." He didn't state it as a question, but a confirmed statement.

"N-no. I was trying to watch late night Russian television..." There was a soft laughter that rang through the phone line, a light crunching following her words like she was eating something.

"Oh yeah' How's that going for you?" A soft click of the mouse as he clicked refresh on Wikipedia's "random article" button. Penangunni....2013 Malayalam 3D film directed by....Yeah, that looks like a crock of shit. Click.

"Horrible! I have no idea what they're saying. You're like....one of the few Russian's I've spoken to that I can even understand the damn accent." She huffed, the puff of air crackling over the phone. He could almost hear the embarrassment over the phone as she continued. "I'm sorry....I didn't mean to sound like I'm bashing the Russian accent or anything. You can blame me for being American."

That little offering made him cackle, a sly grin at the fact that she already seemed to know about the Russian pride and not to bash their culture or country. "Muricaaaaa.." He drew out the name, trying —and failing— to make an American accent. It was a pitiful attempt he'd admit. "That's alright, the dialect is pretty harsh. We can be harder to understand than the Germans sometimes." Click. Click. Click. Mairead McGuinness....first lady graduate from University College Dublin's Bachelor of Science...Good for you, bitch.....Guinness is shit beer though.

Her whimsical laughter rolled through the earpiece of his phone, an audible swallow of whatever the hell she was eating. "It's so true, more aggressive too. You guys always sound angry." She teased lightly, as it seemed she could more easily hold up a conversation over the phone than in person.

"We are angry. It's because our balls are always frozen to our thighs. Makes us Russians rather cranky." He teased right back, only to hear her almost choke on what she was eating, leaving him sitting there cackling. He didn't enjoy the sound of her choking....not at all...

"Oh my god, Kitra! You weren't kidding. You're the WORST." Her laughter followed suit, raspier than before due to the almost choking she'd done.

"I told you," and he did, too. She should've listened. Though that was mild compared to how vulgar he normally was. Give it time, doll.

She was silent for a moment, apparently the almost-choking she'd done hadn't swayed her away from her snack. Finally, she let a groan. "Ughhhh. It's all just infomercials now. Apparently that's a universal thing." She grumbled, silent for a moment. "And I'm nowhere near tired."

His lips twisted as he chewed on the pulp of his lip, glancing at the clock. 2:17 am. He still had a few hours to go before he hit the hay, and a glance to the open bottle of Stoli told him he still had another half to go before he would call it quits for the night. "You want me to come over?"

She was quiet for a moment, not even as much as the crunching of teeth gnashing food to be heard as she seemed to contemplate his offer. "Okay...I'd offer to meet you somewhere...but.." That light touch of embarrassment in her tone near the end.

"Little Red Riding Hood doesn't want to deal with the Big Bad Wolf at night again, I get it." Typical trauma reaction, he wasn't surprised by that fact. "It's cool, I'll be there in about 15 minutes." He grunted, sitting up from the couch, not bothering to hear her reply as he clicked "end" on his cell phone and slid it into his pants pocket.

Grabbing keys, the bottle —Stoli never goes to waste— and his cigarettes, and he was headed out the door.

Next Session Next Week

That week had been spent thinking a bit too much about Lisa. It wasn't particularly something he cared to do, but in order to keep up his "recovery", he had to do what the good doctor asked. Those seven nights had been spent laying in bed, staring up at the bunk above him, listening to his cellmate's snoring and remembering everything. Switching between memories in his head until his mind gave in and slipped into unconsciousness.

She was dead. And he still couldn't get away from her.

Today was no different than any other time it was his scheduled time with Mrs. Psychologist. Escorted by guards, waiting for her previous patient to leave the room. Then enter like he owned the place.

"Good to see you again, Kitra." She was at the file cabinet, having put the previous patient's file away, as well as her notes. The jingling sound of keys fell across the room as well as the scraping click of the cabinet's key turning in the lock and switching the mechanism.

"You know, you skipped out on your part of the deal." He said blatantly, having not remembered about their little deal until the session was over and he was halfway back to his cell.

She blinked, turning to face him and she looked at him apologetically. He hated those looks. "You're right....I did. And that's not fair." She moved to her desk, unlocking the top right drawer and retrieving a pack of Carnivals from the carton she kept just for him. She tossed the pack to him, closing up the drawer and giving a quick turn to the lock with the key. "I don't like breaking my promises to my patients. Sit down. I'll tell you about what happened." She didn't look all too pleased with it, but she was good on her word. He respected that.

"Alright." He snatched the pack out of the air, moving over to the window sill on the opposite side of where she was moving toward her favored shrink chair. And just like every other time, it took him all of ten seconds to have the pack opened and cigarette lit, as well as that first drag that he cherished. His baby blues drifted over to her, lifting his chin. Your turn to spill, Doc.

She got settled, having retrieved his file and her clipboard of notes with a fresh new sheet to scribble on. When she was comfortable, a slow sigh escaped her, seeming to take a moment. She knew that it was inappropriate to discuss it with him, but a good psychologist knows that in order to trust, some things have to be given instead of taking all the time. "I was attacked before our last session. The patient seemed to have gotten....a little too excited during our session. He jumped me." She wasn't looking at him, guilt for spilling sacred patient information.

He raised a brow, curiosity and amusement riddled on his features as wisps of smoke drifted out of his nostrils. "Did he get anywhere?" He didn't seem all that phased by what she told him. It was prison, and not the best one. There were rapists and murderers galore from cell to cell. Did she really expect it to be a cake walk" She was possibly the only woman in the prison that they could see, or had seen in some years.

"No, the guards stopped him before anything happened." She sighed, seeming to keep her eye contact on the sheet before her. Questions and notes she'd memorized over a dozen times already.

"Then why so twitchy when I came in?" He didn't quite understand why an attack that hadn't gone anywhere had her so shaken and jumpy. She worked in a prison, he couldn't imagine that was the only time.

"He was doing so well, it wasn't the attack itself that shook me up. It was the fact that he tried." Her voice was softer, that little admittance was like a grand secret that she was relaying to him. Now we're getting somewhere.

"So you felt like you failed." He said blatantly, nearly finished with his first cigarette already.

"Perhaps." She said it plainly, averting her gaze away from him.

"You can't save everyone, Doc." He was staring at her, had been since she opened up to him for once.

She was silent for a moment, as if either considering or contemplating his words. Her mouth twisted as she chewed on her lip, and he noted that tick. What number are we at now" He'd lost track. But the numbers didn't count, it was just remembering the ticks. "Did you think of any significant memories with Lisa this week?" Aaaand, there it is. The switch. She seemed to have turned back to her professionalism, over the whole open book ordeal already.

He snickered, finishing off the last drag of the cigarette as he turned away only to stub out the cigarette tray she'd laid out for him. "A couple." He didn't keep hounding her for information, she'd give him something. It was a start.

"Let's get started then. Tell me the first one, preferably in order." She readied her clipboard, pen poised to take notes as she finally turned her gaze on him, waiting for him to spill his guts.

She sat there, listening, waiting to seemingly get to the punchline that never came. By the time he was done, she had a that's it" look. She didn't seem to understand why that was a significant memory for him.

"That was the first time I really noticed she was changing." He said bluntly, the heels of his hands pressed to the sill he was lounging on, the action forcing his shoulders to shrug.

"Changing?"

"Acting different. When I first met her, she was a shy little thing that wore shit like....sundresses and pigtails and shit." That was exaggerated and untrue, but he was making a point. His brows rose, tilting his head like he was waiting for her to get it.

Slow realization spread across her features as her head bobbed in a nod. "...the leather jacket.." There ya go, Doc.

"And the lack of hesitation with smoking." He noted, letting his shoulders fall when he moved his hands away from the sill.

"I see. Do you think she was trying to do it to impress you?" She gave him a once over, noting the tattoos and the alternative style.

"Maybe, I don't really know. At least, I didn't then." He admitted.

"And if that is the case, how does that make you feel?" She tilted her head, explaining further, "her changing to suit your style, I mean."

He gave her a look that said it all. Did you really just pull the generic 'how does that make you feel' line on me"

She sighed, rolling her eyes. A soft smile spread as a miniscule laugh followed. "Yes, I know. But the question stands," clearly not letting him out of it. Generic or not.

He groaned lightly, clearly despising that question. "Honestly, at first it made me want to call her a sell out for not sticking to what she is. But.." he sighed, reaching for that pack of Carnivals. "Then I got curious."

"Curious?"

"To see how far down the rabbit hole she was going to fall."

"And just how far did she fall?"

"......Pretty far..."

"A bender?" she said, creating a little intermission to his story.

He let out a cackle at the memory, shaking his head. "Yeah, a fuckin' bender." he repeated, nodding his head before taking another drag of his cigarette.

Her brows rose at that, a touch of surprise. "How many days had past since the memory before?"

"Only three," he noted, giving her an amused expression like I know, right" It was still a memory that greatly amused him.

"My, my." she muttered, writing something down on her clipboard.

"Can I continue now"..." he asked, making sure she was done with her damned interrupting questions.

She waved her hand at him, pen poised as she nodded. Going back to her writing, "Yes, sorry. Keep going."

And....he started to go into grand detail. Possibly just to watch Doc squirm.

Finally, she looked up from her clipboard, squeezing her eyes shut as she waved her hands back and forth. "Alright, alright, alright. That has nothing to do with your recovery. Let's skip those details." She breathed heavily through her nose, eyes wide as she muttered under her breath. "Jesus..."

"I disagree, it can be a very good recovery tactic." he objected, giving her a wide-eyed innocent look. Feigned, of course.

Doc's eyes narrowed at him, looking up through brow and lash. "You're doing it to make me uneasy."

Innocence was shot out the window when it was replaced with a sly, mischievous grin. "Me talking about oral sex makes you uneasy' Is it because you imagine it or....Because frankly, I could probably detail it better to paint a better picture for you.."

"No! I just....can we move on, please?" She pinched the bridge of her nose, the pen angled away from her face. To him saying he could paint a better picture, "You painted a picture just fine, Kitra. Let's move on."

"So you did picture it.." he persisted, his chin tucking down as he peered at her.

"No!" she was getting flustered, and he was eating it up like it was making his day. So much for your professionalism, Doc.

He even went so much as bumping it up a notch. He'd gone easy on her these past few months, and he was growing impatient. But not too impatient to fuck up the grand scheme.

"Do you find me attractive?" his head tilted much like a dog, acting as if he was just showing curiosity.

"..That's very inappropriate, Kitra." she narrowed her gaze at him, displeased with how this was turning around.

"I think it's very appropriate. What if my problems with relationships stem from shit self esteem' My need for attention because I lack confidence in myself?" he inquired, brows raising as he gave her viable reasons.

Her jaw tensed, swallowing. She was stuck. Cornered. A cornered animal will lash out to it's attacker. Let's see how she handles pressure. "You're a very attractive man, Kitra. Some," she pointed out, redirecting her opinion and turning it into a third party perspective point of view. "....women are very much attracted to blonde hair and blue eyes. You take good care of yourself, with exception to the drinking. But you've been clean for months now. When you're released, I think you'll find an exceptional suitor." Bam. Deflected.

He was impressed. A small quirk of a grin showed through his feigned acting, and he nodded. His hand pressed to his chest, fluttering his lashes dramatically. He'd cornered her for sure, but she wiggled out of it. Time to let up on her. "One day....I'll find a suitable wife....who will put up with my bullshit..." his tone was cheesily dreamy. He didn't want her closing up on him. That previous question had been bold, perhaps too risky to make. But impulses were impulses.

Doc's professionalism slipped as his little act eased the situation, getting her to loosen back up. Laughing softly, she shook her head. "Let's get you recovered and out of here so you can find her, hm?" Playing along with his antics.

She's a good doctor. It's a shame I'm going to have to break her.

She listened, silently and watching. It took her a moment to speak up, and he watched her all the same. "So, that's it' You....performed oral on her and then left?" She didn't seem quite believable of that.

"It was four o'clock in the morning, I had things to do that day." He shrugged, settling back in that leather chair.

"Things?" She questioned, raising one of those brows at him.

"Yeah. Things." It was clear he wasn't going to delve into detail on them. "Errands, things that aren't relevant to Lisa." He snickered, reaching for that half-empty pack of Carnivals for another cancerstick.

"Alright....and why did you kiss her when you left' That seems....like a relatively romantic gesture for two casual people. Intimate." Her fingers laced, resting over the clipboard on her lap.

"I like kissing, has nothing to do with intimacy," he objecting, going cross eyed as he looked down to the end of the cigarette he was lighting with a match.

"Then what does it have to do with?"

His lips spread back from his pearly whites, smoke wisping between the space as he lowered the cigarette he'd inhaled from. "In case you haven't noticed...I've got a bit of an oral fixation problem. Is it not obvious?" He raised his brows at her, making a point by raising his cigarette up to eye level, giving a glance at it then returned those baby blues back to her. "Cigarettes, kissing, eating puss...." that smile turned into that of the Joker. "For hours...." he mused, giving her a suggestive look-over.

"Alright, I get your po-..." Looking away from that suggestive glance, raising her hand.

"All day, really." He mused, looking up as she tried to get him to shut up. He wasn't being all that cooperative today.

"You don't have t-..."

"I think the longest I've gone is something like 6 hours?"

"Kitra..." she sighed, avoiding eye contact.

"Granted, that's with smoke breaks. But without' That's probably about five good hours straight..."

"Kitra." More stern now.

"Lockjaw's a bitch. But it's definitely worth it to hear the moans and squirm-..."

"ENOUGH." She was glaring at him now, feathers all ruffled for a split second before she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, "I'm sorry, that was unprofessional," almost instantly.

By the time she opened her eyes, that Joker smile he'd been shooting her with was gone. "Did I say something wrong, Doc?" His head tilted to the side, a glimmer of mischief in his gaze.

"There's some details....I don't need to know." Her teeth gritted, giving him that stare. She was fighting her eyes not to narrow at him.

"Because you picture it' Or because it's been a while?" He smirked, that chair squeaking slightly as he turned the chair back and forth with his feet.

"I think we're going to cut this session short today." She pressed the metal piece of her clipboard, sliding her pen beneath the clip.

He raised his brows, "Well, that's not very professional. Just because I talked about the hours of oral I can perform?" He was fighting his own narrowing eyes, the threatening of a grin even more.

"Because you're not cooperating." She noted.

"I'm sure you handle harder cases with other patients, do you cut their sessions short?" His brows rising, pulling that card out on her.

She was silent for a moment, staring at him. He'd cornered her again. Sighing, "no, I suppose not. But they also aren't you."

"What about me?" he tilted his head to the side, peering at her as he took a long drag from that cigarette.

"You have much more restraint than the others, you have much more capabilities to behave yourself. If you're not willing to try to work with me, I'm not going to put up with your misbehaving." She stated bluntly.

He stared at her for a moment through a film of smokey haze. "....Fair point, Doc. I'll behave then."

She seemed to consider it for a moment, skeptical before she sighed and reached for her pen again. "Alright....But one more comment like that, we're done here." She pointed her finger at him, raising her brows.

He held up his hands like she had a gun on him, turning his head to the side. "Alright, alright. I surrender. I'll be good." He snickered, returning to smoking his cigarette.

Exhaling roughly she nodded, "next memory."

"That sounded easy," she mused, raising a brow as she looked up from the clipboard she was scrawling on.

"Hey, you offer Russian dumplings, Stoli and some green?" He gave her a look. "I'll punt your grandma."

She raised her brows, looking right at him now. "....That's not healthy."

He cackled then, head tilting back as he did so. "At least I didn't say I'd run her over," he pointed at her, grinning. "I've improved."

Fighting a smile, she shook her head. "You've got a point...So, she came over and..." she started, going back to her board.

"Alright, Kitra. Our session today is over, but I want you to think about the true turn in yours and Lisa's relationship. When things started to get more....serious." She was finishing off her notes of their current session, scribbling away at that clipboard like it was going out of style.

"More serious?" He raised a brow at her, almost finished with the last cigarette of the pack.

"Yes, more serious." She repeated, the last bit written on the sheet of paper as she capped the pen and looked over at him. "It did become serious, did it not?"

He mulled over the question for a moment, not really sure how he felt about the term serious. Finally, he shrugged. "I don't know, I guess it got serious. It stopped feeling casual after a while, at least."

She nodded slowly, lacing her fingers and resting them over the clipboard. "Then I want you to think about that over the next week. Think back on when things stopped feeling casual....and started leaning towards a relationship."

He sighed, pushing himself into a sitting position as he stabbed the center of the ashtray with the spent cigarette. "Fine," he grumbled.

She was quiet for a moment, a glance at the clock before returning her gaze to him. "You've been doing well, Kitra. Considering your inappropriate slip ups.." she hid a smirk, "you've opened up fairly well about all of this. I want you to keep it up, you've made great progress. We don't want you regressing now that.." She paused, taking a slow breath. "...that we're reaching the end."

Baby blues stared at her for a moment, much like a cat who's prey had just skittered across the floorboards. Unblinking and unrelenting. "Well, that's one way to put it." He snickered, standing to his feet. After a moment, his usual smirk returned to his face. "No hug when I leave?" It was a poor excuse of a tease, he knew that. But she was right. They were reaching the end.

His arms opened wide like he was waiting for her to return it.

A shake of her head, she got up with clipboard in hand. Instead of heading towards him, she moved around the desk away from him towards the file cabinet. "You know where the door is, Kitra."

He cackled lightly, pursing his lips. "I'll try not to let it hit me on the ass on the way out." He promised, moving around the desk as she had without heading in her vicinity. His arms fell to his sides and there was a peculiar smirk on his face as he made it to the door.

We're reaching the end of the story, time to step it up a notch.