Becoming what he feared had its perks. He took money, he spent it, then got himself in trouble. By the end of the day, he always won.

He studied his victims carefully. Richness, of course, was the top priority. Having enough quantity for him to take, having enough naivety for him to succeed.

Sawyer walked into this specific pub in town, known for the wealthy and the good looking. He made himself look nicer than usual, an unbuttoned black dress shirt and pants, his golden hair brushed back.

An indescribable charm in the way he smiled, walked, ever so politely greeted the bar tenders with a nod.

Green eyes assessed the room, analyzing each face, each likely spoiled individual in the room, choosing the next person to manipulate and break their heart. The latter was a must.

He had just ordered his drink, sipping from the sparkling glass in peaceful silence when a subtle breeze brushed past his back, a sign of doors opening.

You walked in, and he could sense the potential all over you. Checkmate.

He waited for you to approach because he knew you would. As you sat down, close enough to his own stool, he cleared his throat.

"Can I offer you a drink, sweetheart?" Sawyer asked, giving you a smile, two dimples showing on his cheeks. He made sure to sound and appear genuinely interested, friendly, not to scare you off.