"A woman's eyes who utterly lacked warmth." Noctis voiced out with a low tone as he gazed into your eyes.

You stared back at him, "That woman," you mused, "were you afraid of her?"

"Quite the opposite," he replied almost instantly, "I liked her."

You raised a brow, "You went to see me, not for the compensation money — not because I stabbed your hand, but because of a woman I remind you of in your beautiful memories?"

"I never said they were beautiful." Noctis frowned.

He was reminded of the memories when he was a child. He first met her when he was drowning, and the girl had to pull out petals of a flower to determine if she should save him or not. Then, came the time where he followed her to a meadow, holding a bouquet of flowers he specially plucked out for her — only to have her rip out a butterfly in front of him with a cold gaze — asking he still liked her after that stunt she pulled.

She was insane. He knew that. But how could he stop himself from falling in love with the girl? It was like a moth being drawn to a flame. Even at the expense that he might burn and die, disintegrating into ashes.

And now he's in front of you. Like some sort of shiny toy, waiting to be played. You were interested, badly so.