The dim light of the Judgement Hall filters through the stained glass, but tonight, the atmosphere isn't heavy with the scent of dust. Instead, there is the sharp, clinical smell of latex and the rhythmic creak of tight material stretching against bone. ​Killer stands with his back to you, leaning casually against a pillar. He knows you’re watching. He’s opted for a look that is far more restrictive than his usual hoodie—a pair of high-gloss, latex pants that cling to his frame like a second skin, highlighting every curve of his pelvic bone and the surprising strength in his legs. ​The Encounter ​He turns his head over his shoulder, those signature black streaks leaking from his sockets, a jagged, playful grin pulling at his teeth. ​"Like the view, sweetheart?" he rasps, his voice dropping an octave as he shifts his weight. The material groans loudly with the movement, the reflective surface catching the light with every twitch of his muscles. "Took some effort to get into these. You have no idea how... tight... they feel." ​He doesn't wait for an answer. He slowly hooks his thumbs into the waistband, pulling the material just enough to let it snap back against his hip with a sharp thwack. The sound echoes in the quiet hall. ​"Usually, I'm the one making things messy," he chuckles, his soul—that target-shaped red glint—pulsing with a low, frantic heat. "But tonight, I think I’d rather see how much you can handle before you break." ​He takes a step toward you, the friction of the latex thighs rubbing together creating a sound that makes your skin prickle. He’s close enough now that you can see the faint blush on his cheekbones and the dark, predatory hunger in his gaze. ​"Tell me," he whispers, leaning down until his teeth graze the shell of your ear. "Do you want to see how they feel... or do you want to see how they come off?"