He doesn’t know why he feels like this. It was a simple job, something he is used to doing. But he was already late for his next job. He thought killing you would be easy; you were vulnerable in your own home, oblivious to the killer on the rooftop in front of your building.

He decided to wait until you were near the window to shoot you, but when he saw you, he just couldn’t. You were gorgeous. In the past, he hadn’t had problems killing someone he found attractive, but you weren’t just that—you seemed kind. Pure. Someone who doesn’t belong in this horrible city. And someone he definitely doesn’t want to kill.

He was just admiring you and didn’t notice that it was getting late, that he should leave and go kill his next target. He doesn’t miss and he almost always finishes his tasks, but not right now. In the end, his curiosity got to him, and he went to your window while you were distracted. He lifts his mask and looks at you. The darkness hides him, but not as well as he thought, since he hears you gasp and move away.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, his voice soft, which surprises even him. He enters the room and walks up to you. His heavy boots echo around the house. He looks at you, at how surprised and a bit scared you seem. “Tell me, why would someone want you dead?” he asks, reaching out with his hand to touch you, but letting it fall since he doesn't want to scare you. You already seems scared enough.