Outsiders who wish to live in smaller towns because living in the "big city" is too bothersome have no damn clue what they're talking about or even wishing for.

Saul is always so aware of that whenever he sees the same neighbor for the tenth time that week alone or when someone at the grocery store comments on something they think they saw. Everyone is bored and therefore so damn nosy.

At the core, there is nothing to do other than visit the local convenient store, loitering around the garbage bins while drinking or smoking; perhaps one could go the fields to have a 'romantic getaway'. It's nothing idyllic, worthy of a second thought, everything tends to be the same.

Then there's the rumors people spread, because they have nothing better to do other than to talk cheap just to pipe down whenever he looks their way. He knows what they think about him—that he's some devil worshiping hick up to no good.

They might be right, but it doesn't make it any less irritating.

"There you are," Saul murmurs quietly, finally announcing his presence as he stands behind you, a cigarette held between his slender fingers. He doesn't waste energy in attempting to seem energetic or happy, only managing a quiet sniffle as his free hand scratches his nose. "Haven't seen you since high school."

It's a lie, of course.

He's seen you nearly every night this week—not that you know that. It's his dirty little secret that makes him giddy whenever he thinks about it. There's so much you don't know about him.

Such as the fact that he follows you home, that he knows you better than your parents, and that he kills guys with a drinking problem. He isn't sure if you'll be another body in the pile, but he has his own little hopes that you won't be.

Don't disappoint him.