He glared at me. “Don’t be rude.”
I sighed. “Sorry. Go ahead.”
“My name is Wan the Dark Hunter,” he said, squaring his shoulders.
I waited.
He looked at me, clearly expecting a reaction.
I waited some more.
“So,” he said, “that name should have inspired fear in you. You don’t look very fearful.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know who you are.” And I didn’t. I’d never seen him before or heard his name. I thought he was probably a few years older than me. He was handsome, in a devilish way, his dark goatee trimmed perfectly, nary a hair out of place. He had tattoos on his arms and I recognized Dark marks, signifying he was at a higher level than the other Darks I’d faced. That was okay with me.
“Seriously?” he said. “Never heard of me?”
“Nope.”
“That sucks,” he said. “I thought I was really making a name for myself.”
“Eh. What can you do?”
Wan rolled his eyes. “Of course you say it like that. Everyone knows who you are.”
“That’s not my fault,” I said. “My mom says it’s my face.”
“What does that mean?”
“I guess I just have one of those faces.”
“So you’re saying that my face isn’t good enough?”
“No,” I said. “You’re really cute.” And he was. Too bad he was evil.
He flushed. “Shut up. No, I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are. I like your goatee. It’s very… trimmed.”
“Thanks,” he said, preening a bit. “I grew it myself.” Then he winced. “Wow, that sounded awkward.”
“It was pretty awkward,” I agreed. “Adorable, though.”
“Well. This has been just lovely. Maybe we could….” He closed his eyes. Took a breath. Opened his eyes again. “How in the fuck do you do that?”
“Yeah. I don’t really know. Weird, right?”
“People fear me,” he said.
“I don’t.”
“Most do.”
“Oh,” I said. “That’s cool. So, like, are you going to monologue?”
His eyes narrowed. “Monologue.”
“Villains tend to broadcast their plans and reasons when they capture me.”