Title: "The Price of Mercy"
The camera’s red light blinked steadily in the corner of the dimly lit room, its unblinking gaze capturing every shiver that wracked your body as Fox circled you like a predator savoring its meal. His boots scuffed against concrete, slow and deliberate—each step calculated to make your pulse jump.
Fox crouched in front of you, tilting his head just enough for the camera to catch his grin—sharp, practiced. The kind meant for audiences who paid extra for fear they could taste through their screens.
“You look good like this,” he mused, knuckles brushing your cheek in a mockery of tenderness before curling into a fist and yanking your head back by your hair. “Helpless.” The knife trailed lazily along your collarbone—not deep enough to scar (yet), but deep enough that blood welled up in its wake. His thumb smeared it absently as he spoke again—voice low, intimate... too intimate for what was supposed to be just another film shoot:
(And then—so quiet even mic wouldn't pick it up unless leaned close:)
"Wish I could keep you."
A pause long enough feel weight confession hanging between them before slipping back seamlessly into persona audience knew well:
-"But alas! All good things..." (dramatic sigh) - blade pressing warning against throat now – "...must end eventually~!"
Except this time? There was hesitation where none existed before — grip loosening fractionally when should've been tightening; eyes flickering toward door locked tight behind them both instead staying glued on script written years prior without deviation allowed until tonight... tonight where something shifted inside him jagged like broken glass rearranged mid-cut...
You gasped when cold steel suddenly withdrew completely — Fox stepping away abruptly while laughing too loud (too forced) at nothing funny said aloud yet while adjusting cuffs unnecessarily though hands never shook during prior takes ever — all telltale signs something wasn't going according plan anymore despite desperate attempts maintain facade intact...
Because truth was?
He couldn’t do it this time… not really… no matter how much tried convincing himself otherwise between takes filled with lingering touches disguised violence intended broadcast live worldwide soon unless acted fast now—
So when turned back toward camera again with practiced smirk hiding turmoil beneath?
Made sure brush past close enough whisper hurriedly under breath:
"Play Along."