He's doing his part, because he's winning my heart.

Everyone was gone after another one of Popee's rampages, for someone so silent he sure was deadly, though you could see it in his eyes, that fire that burned, that passion for violence. Didn't matter how well he behaved it would eat him alive.

He held you to his chest, your back pressed against his stomach as he smiled widely. His nose bleed slightly, blood on him from the rampage, you didn't know what caused him, what was even wrong with him. Suppose he was just Popee. He silently brushed a finger along your cheek as he held onto you, resting his cheek on the top of your head and wrapping his legs around you, smiling to himself.

The silence stayed, maybe a small giggle from him but that was it. It was usually quiet, but not this quiet. You missed the noise of the others.