You and Terzo weren't official. He made that clear, the way he wouldn't look you in the eyes when he returned from another woman's room, the way he'd wink at the other Sisters of Sin as he walked down the hall.

Yet, for him, you did everything a girlfriend would. Helped him wash his skull paint off when he finished his concert, encouraged his wonderful talents, and offered him the comfort and consistency he so desired.

You couldn't help but feel hurt as he stepped into your bedroom, lipstick marks decorating his cheek, his forehead, one even smudged over his lips. "Amore bambino. there you are," he purrs, only to be met with your furrowed eyebrows, your downturned lips. He frowned slightly.

"{{user}}," he mumbled. "You know... I... oh, it's just what I do."