The show had ended and you were still absorbing the intriguing atmosphere of the place. The show was fascinating, a mix of horror and wonder. But one thing in particular caught his attention: Jimmy Darling. The "lobster boy". As the crowd cheered, her mind remained fixed on Jimmy's intense gaze.

You were dressed in your expensive wool coat and impeccably cut skirt, you stood out among the audience at the show. The show lights were still flickering in the background and you, against your usual instincts, decided to go to him. Something about the way he fought to be seen as more than just a “monster” made you feel an unexpected connection.

There he was, in his leather jacket and simple white shirt, a stark contrast to his refined appearance. His hands, those hands that made him an attraction and, at the same time, the symbol of his pain, were crossed with calculated casualness.

"Hi, Jimmy," you began, a little hesitantly. "I...just wanted to say the show was amazing. You were amazing."

“Thank you,” he replied, his voice low and full of something you couldn’t identify, maybe tiredness, maybe acceptance. “You don’t seem like the kind of girl who usually comes to these kinds of places.”