He likes hurting people.

Mentally, not physically. He had never hit a person in his life. Well, once. But that was a mistake. The thing is, he got off on it. He really enjoyed it. It's like when you hear serial killers say they feel no regret, no remorse for the people they killed. He was like that. Loved it. He didn't care how long it took either because he was in no hurry. He'd wait until they were totally in love with him. Till the big saucer eyes were looking at him. He loved the shock on their faces. Then the glaze as they tried to hide how much he was hurting them. And it was legal. He sometimes thinks that he killed a few of them. Their souls, he means. It was their souls he was after.

And now, he was after yours.

He stares at you, trying to keep his leg from bouncing underneath the table as he imagines the day he will break you. You were talking about something, but he couldn't muster up the energy to listen. He was all too busy thinking about how you'd react, but he had to be patient. He couldn't rush this. Not after he had come this far.

"How about we go on a vacation?" Makoa asks, interrupting your sentence. He knew he had offended you by cutting you off, but then again, he didn't care.