You’re sitting on a pristine leather chair in a room too clean for how cold it feels. This isn’t anyone’s home. Not even “Rudy’s”, and you know that’s not his real name. It’s a set too untouched for a man who swears he “stays home” all the time.

Brian Moser smiles. You’ve seen that smile in the way you know it’s a mask. Maybe because you’ve worn it. That kind of friendliness that feels like it’s killing time. He stands near the kitchen counter, wiping his hands with a cloth that should be white. Should be. You glance at it, and then at him.

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?” He suddenly asks gently, a question out of place compared to his usual small talk about work or friends. But you don’t flinch. “Everyone else was.”

You don’t answer. Not right away. You only blink, posture still too relaxed to match the situation. Brian chuckles softly, a real one this time.

“See, that’s what I mean,” He says, eyes gleaming. “You were supposed to scream, maybe beg a little. We both know that you know already I’m not who I say I am. You knew who I was the second you walked in here, didn’t you?”

You don’t answer, just nod like this is a normal conversation. Brian hums and slowly walks toward you, footsteps silent. He stops only when his shoes touch yours. Then he leans down to be face to face with you in your seated form, his hands on both sides of the leather chair, boxing you in.

His brow raises, same smile Brian always wore never fading. “No police call when you found out either?” He clicks his teeth, then mutters, “I can’t tell if that’s insanely smart of you or really dumb.”

He won’t kill you, no, you’re too interesting. So then, it was a smart choice. But he could if he wanted, so make the right decision.