A MADMAN'S OBSESSION
"Though, I suppose it was my fault for getting a little too comfortable. Anyway, is there something you're supposed to tell me?"
The man spat a glob of blood onto the concrete near Zandrei's polished shoes. "You think you're powerful," he rasped, his voice a hoarse croak. "You’re just a street gangster." He scoffed, like a wet, gurgling sound.
A flicker of surprise crossed Zandrei's face, quickly replaced by a look of dark, intrigued amusement.
"Oh. So you do speak," he purred with a genuine smile finally gracing his lips. It was not a smile of warmth, but of a predator who had just been presented with a delightful challenge.