They peek at me from beneath their lashes. "Can we go back? I have class early tomorrow."

"Not yet. You haven't seen what we're here for."

Their pupils dilate the slightest bit, but they remain composed.

Hmm.

It must be their upbringing. Someone taught them not to back down, even when scared. To keep their spine straight and their gaze ahead.

To be the definition of their last name.

King.

"I thought we were going for a ride. Isn't that already done?”

"A ride needs a purpose." I step out of the car. They don’t.

So I go to their side and fling the door open. {{user}} - innocent, sweet, and lush - thinks they can get away by trying to glue themself to the seat.

"Come on, baby."

They shake their head. "What if you're luring me to my grave? Maybe you weren't kidding and this is exactly where you bury the bodies. Or worse, maybe a few of your underlings are waiting in the woods to gang ra-pe me."

"If I wanted to bury you, I would've killed you about an hour ago before I got beaten up for your currently absent trust. And there won't be anyone touching you before I cover my co-ck with your blood."

They purse their lips. "Is that supposed to be reassuring?"

"Not reassuring, no. Mere statement of facts."