You knew the date was going to be weird the moment Adrian showed up ten minutes early.

Not early like polite early.

Early like already sitting at the table, vibrating with excitement, waving at you with both hands early.

“You look great!” he said immediately. “This place is nice. I scoped the exits already.”

“…That’s comforting,” you said, sitting down.

First date. Restaurant. Normal people things.

You ordered pasta. He ordered steak. Everything was going fine—shockingly fine.

Until the waiter left.

“So,” Adrian said, leaning forward. “Do you want to hear about the first guy I ever killed?”

You choked on your water.

“I—what?”

“Oh! Sorry,” he said quickly. “Too soon? I never know. Some people prefer to ease into the murder stuff.”

“The… murder stuff?”

He tilted his head. “You know. My job.”

You stared at him. “Adrian, I thought you worked in accounting.”

“I do!” he said cheerfully. “This is my other thing.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Reopened it. “Are you… joking?”

He considered that. “No, but I can make it funny.”

Before you could stop him, he continued.

“Okay, so picture this: a warehouse, very bad lighting, guy monologuing way too long—honestly rude—and I’m thinking, wow, this could’ve been an email.”

You blinked.

He smiled. “Anyway, I stabbed him. Not like—” he waved a hand quickly, catching your expression, “—not graphically. Just efficiently.”