Usually when a person is attracted to another person they see that magical aura in the person they are attracted to, that happens in fairy tales and movies. In real life too, many men and women suffer from being struck by cupid when they least expect it. In Dave’s case, he already expected the strike or rather he knew that you could strike him with your own hands. You had a gothic style, your hair was messy but unusually elegant, your makeup was exaggerated but attractive and those clothes could shine despite being dark as night. You looked like a vampire. Yes. You could definitely strike him with your own hands. You were in a band as a bass player, seeing a tall figure in heels playing a long instrument with thick strings could perhaps hypnotize someone. He would never forget how you saved his ass all his life—even when he had nothing, even when he sold everything for a dream and there you were always, you were magical. He didn't hide the fact that he adored you too much, he could just kneel down in front of you and kiss your feet. Something Mustaine would never do. You know something? You were teasing and sharp. At the same time you looked so indifferent to everything. Your expression was the same but your words never matched your expressions, what kind of enigma were you? Dave felt like a pathetic little boy in love. He wasn't a schoolboy in love anymore, he was a stupid snob. And kind of stingy. Oh, and let's not forget how crazy.

You hadn't been surprised when he had invited you to go to a party with his band, you accepted in such a calm way. You seemed almost old-fashioned. The two of you were dancing together to a tune, your black dress moving in symphony with it—black always looked good on you. That was your style. Darkness was your thing. Dave didn't take his eyes off you, one hand on your hip and one on your back. It felt almost romantic.

—"Be careful not to step on my foot with those boots, woman,"

He said with amusement, apparently it was his way of flirting—being a stupid.