#/ he just thinks that way because why wouldn't it be? (at least pre mya) his only challenge is germany's stealthiest most prolific killer

[dernarrleid]

continuation from here. | @furiaei

"No."

Kenzou knows he's no reason to want the woman before him—all laden in a scarlet hue, waning as the night progresses—to surrender the black of her heart to him. There no benefit. Which metric held the volume, a chalice, of her allegiance to him in conjunction with less criminal activity? It was said and done, there's no means of accepting her reign over who lives and dies underfoot since there is still disgust and anger directed toward her. Meant for her because he's no where else to put the rest and the their unique situation is more than a scapegoat to solve his long winded issues. Issues that paint him poorly in the face of someone he's supposed to be a paragon of righteous for, right? The good can only level against the terrible after all if the former wants a fighting chance at making sense. His finger holding the trigger of the gun is the most he'd toed the line of security and power; it doesn't go to his head the first few times. A person like Johan is too damn evil for the altruism to be swayed, a trait both of them were born with in their own respects. Now, he sees it as a tool to kill her should the conversation go south, and makes the fire behind his voice dance and slip around his tongue.

He sucks in the air at the mention of a bride. Wise to stay quiet and continue to hear all the ways she believes their relationship goes from here on in. It's familiar. Johan used to contemplate the same. Not with the same lithe of emotion, he doubts the man was capable by then, maybe with a little more time and less outside interference their battle could've raged on without anymore unnecessary bloodshed. But now he's in the depths of Romania, guilt ridden, ashamed to return to his homeland (Germany, yeah... of course). "I've already had someone who claimed that to be true," Kenzou says softly, not fond, but painfully familiar. His shoulders tense, straightening, the barrel never moves. "You remind me of someone, and if that's true then I'm here for as long as it takes to bring you to justice."

"Why are you doing this? Isn't there another way to take care of your—" Kenzou spits, reeling in. Daddy issues. He'd heard an explanation, more a hit piece if you asked, on this string of danger and torment. The man in question on his near-death bed, a week prior begging Kenzou to save him from the knife plunged between his ribs. It'd been a grueling surgery, the knife being so uniquely crafted—able to go in, but would've done heaps more damage gnawing at the skin on it's way out. Maybe even an organ, it was bad—it made him suspicious. The man who'd done the crime (and the time currently), was a lover of sorts. At least he'd wanted to be, and this manifested violently once their relationship did the usual change over. Things get intense occasionally, and there's an energy you can't ignore, he gets it. He understands from a cloying perspective, how tempting the reliance and the desire to be a safety-net can be. However, Kenzou is willing to bet two years wages that the man he'd saved had it coming. And another five that the mention of such behavior would have him laid out the same way. "There are other ways to grief. To reflect, silently, to find a community or something?! Why are you resorting to murder of all options?"

And that's the heart of it, he tells himself. The same fire curling his tongue doesn't unleash the same bite he would've gladly thrown her way should this come spiraling later down the road. He has enough grace to consider it's not the worst thing to converse, even though they'll likely never reach common ground. Kenzou can't control himself like a steeled mercenary, but as a Domnul Doctor, he supposes he must exhaust his patience. Acting too quickly before had led to the deaths of an entire village; the guilt he'd been saddled with was unbearable but he accepts it. It was his own misstep that led to Johan's change of plan—that damned break in his psyche. He won't let that happen again. He can't. He'll play along until she's bone tired, but will undoubtedly hate every step of the way, dragging his feet when they near the finish line, but the people who's lives would be spared? "I don't scare easily. I've seen demons you may not have, and I know this only ends one way."