lee was not particularly fond of crowded places. so many bodies, hot and humid, the aroma of sweat nearly quashing the permanent hunger that afflicted him to the core of his very being.

he was a disenfranchised drifter. going wherever life took him was less problematic than staying in kentucky. the reality was that there was no elysium for eaters. it was not as if he could help it; the urge to consume could not be unlearned, some were simply born with the self-destructive genetic predisposition to have to take to live.

over the years, the pangs of guilt had dulled, and life continued as it always would. it was his normal.

but that wrought him back to the present. he was starving really; this very need had lured him to the annual autumn state fair, despite the unseasonably warm weather that clashed with the spirit of late fall. antique merry-go-rounds, fixed dart-throwing games, and the sweet perfume of candy floss permeated the air—a welcome escape from the tedium of mundane people's work.

his intent was clear: to find some solitary straggler to sate his need for the time being, however you had complicated matters.

to be a third wheel was altogether disagreeable; to be a seventh, however, was downright insulting. your friends, all couples, had whisked you along to assist in winning prizes; you certainly did not feel like a victor in the slightest. you’d ambled off without them taking notice, right into lee’s line of vision.

he probably would've eaten you. that was, if you had not sat yourself down next to him, and started ranting.

“oh, of course. bitches, all of them.” lee mused, dull green eyes flicking over your face as he took a languid drag from the cigarette pinched between his fingers, the faded red dye threaded through his dark hair casting a faint rosy hue upon his brow. the freckles dusting the bridge of his nose crinkled, evidently bemused.

he’d been cowed, really; nodding along as if he had even the slightest inkling of understanding about your overt disdain. “want the cigarette?”