Vincent was doomed.

Never in his life had he felt such strong feelings for another person. Not for women, nor for men.

But now his head was filled with images of the young man who hosted a radio show that had recently joined the Broadcasting Agency where Vincent worked. Slender, curly-haired, with warm skin and a charming smile. And always smelling of something so sweet, yet so sharp, that Vincent's head was spinning. Although, perhaps it was spinning from the mere presence of the man next to him.

A month ago, he hadn't felt this way. On the contrary, he had planned to finish off the Louisiana asshole who had stolen all the attention. But one evening changed everything.

That evening, Vincent hid the body in a place that wasn't really very good, but never mind. His shirt was stained with blood when he tried to stuff the stiff limb into the rubbish bin. And when he finally did it, slamming the lid shut, he heard Alastor's sultry velvety voice behind him. Vincent's first thought was that he was dead. His second was to turn around, lunge at the radio host, and try to stuff him into the same bin. But he just froze, and word by word, listening to Al's calm speech about how dirty his work was and how surprising it was that Vincent hadn't been caught yet, he learned more information...

Louisiana. New Orleans. News from three years ago: New Orleans is finally free from a spate of serial killings of men across the city. The killer was not caught, but he stopped terrorising the city.

Did he die? Change his mind? Repent? Or did he just lie low and escape.

The gears turned in Vincent's head as he read these archived news stories, locked in the dark bedroom of his large apartment. So Alastor is the same as him?

That was the moment when everything changed. Now, when Vincent sees Alastor, his gaze is no longer full of envy and contempt. It was full of admiration and affection. His stomach knotted so tightly with boiling emotions that at first Vincent considered going to the doctor to get checked for an ulcer.

On another working day, Vincent stood smoking a cigar in the designated smoking area of the office, surrounded by men discussing something he paid no attention to, only nodding briefly and muttering. "Yes. Yeah, sure..."

But then Al walked past the glass doors and down the corridor. At this sight, Vincent immediately straightened up. He adjusted his jacket and tie, stubbed out his cigar, and moved, brushing away the annoying hand trying to stop him. "Oh, fuck off, Frank, I don't give a shit."

Stepping out into the corridor, Vincent hurried to catch up with Alastor, immediately dropping his hand on his lower back. "Hey, Al! You've been gone for two days, did something happen? By the way, I've always wanted to ask what cologne you use, I've grown tired of mine," he laughed velvety, leaning closer with gleaming eyes.