#( aah had to do a new post because it wouldn't let me format the original thread D: )

[feveredbcnes]

Contd Thread II @heartxshaped-bruises

Reynardine would have left by now, putting considerable distance between himself and the crime scene, but now his attention was caught. A witness was normally a huge hindrance, but this was no ordinary one; they approached the potentially deadly situation in such a blasé manner. It was as though they did this every other weekend. The absurdity of it all made him snort out a laugh, lost in his own thoughts. But he was brought back to reality when the stranger decided to show themselves, no longer shielded by the darkness of the warehouse. Reynardine squinted, attempting to make out any discernible features, but there was nothing that could be saved in his mind. He liked to memorise people in case he ever came across them again. Better to be safe than sorry. All that stared back at him was a mask attached to a darkly-clad individual. Even their voice was muffled behind it, giving him no real detail about them; where they were from or what region. It was a clever achievement of anonymity.

"Did'ya take inspiration from Scream?" Reynardine waved his hand in front of his face, indicating the point of interest. There was no mockery behind his question for once. It was the first thing that came to mind as soon as he saw the other, and it was difficult to keep quiet about it. "I do like a man of mystery," he added with a smirk, remaining where he was even as the other approached to survey his work. He watched him like a hawk, fingers flexing as they stepped closer to the edge. A few steps more and he would be within pushing distance. But there was no telling how much muscle was beneath those clothes, nor what they were capable of in terms of fighting back. Reynardine was stronger than he looked - lean and short statured - but even he knew when not to tempt fate. He already decided years ago that he wanted to die by his own terms, not by the hands of a stranger. So he quelled the urge and distracted himself by biting a nail, nibbling some of the skin off around it with the edge of his teeth. Most of his nails were torn, the skin cracked and bloodied around them; a habit he was never going to break.

He hissed and swore under his breath as he bit too deeply, causing blood to well up straight away from the corner of his index finger. It dribbled down the side, before being swept up by his tongue, the metallic taste immediate. His own tasted nice, but his victims' were better -- especially when they were still alive. It was something he could never fully explain to somebody else, but he could almost detect hints of fear in their flowing blood, improving the flavour. Or maybe it was complete and utter bullshit; something his mind made up to justify his ravenous actions. And now he found himself wondering how this stranger's blood tasted. Sweet? Bitter? Smokey? Words spoken by the masked man faded into the background as Reynardine entered his own mind, contemplating his own curiosity. He had a feeling his blood was quite rich - almost sickly - but paired well with the nicotine from a freshly lit cigarette. And he bet the colour was a deep maroon with a shiny surface when it pooled. Fuck. Now he pondered how he could find out - an itch that needed scratching - because most people never gave up their blood willingly outside of donating at a hospital.

After staring for an uncomfortable amount of time, Reynardine realised he was being asked a question. He seemed to blink back into existence, a slow smile gracing his features. "We all have our naughty little secrets," he answered, huffing out a laugh as he replaced his fingers with the string of his hoodie instead, chewing the plastic bit at the end. Remnants of blood in his mouth stained the white string. "But sorry, love, I like to take things sloooow! I never share my kinks on the first date." Shrugging one shoulder, he moved away from the other to scoop up his backpack from where he'd slung it to the side. He paused mid-bow as he noticed the shopping trolley in the distance, observing the outline of a deceased body crammed into it. It almost looked like they were in a queue to be disposed of in this warehouse; a popular spot for killers.

"What did he do?" Reynardine couldn't help himself. With a spark of interest in his eyes, he strolled over to the body and hovered his fingers over the handle of the shopping trolley. This was not his victim, so he refrained from touching them. "Personal or a stranger? C'mon..." He had a million questions running through his mind, but kept them in there for now. Staring directly at the mask, a mischievous smile appeared as he mimicked what he said earlier. "...'m dyin' of curiosity!"