I Am (Not) Your Hero

2

Smite stared down at a somewhat familiar figure. All she had on was a pair of tight fitting jeans, and a tiny black top. She sat in the corner of the bar.

Though Smite never hid his face, he wasn't nearly as recognizable without his costume. With contacts in he was just a large man in the crowd. Abnormally large, but still normal.

He sat down across from her and smiles softly.

She glanced up at him, her hair framing her face.

"What the hell do you want?"

He licked his lips, tapping the table, nodding at the waiter to come over. He turned his attention to her once more. It was loud. It always was, but it was exceptionally loud in here.

It felt almost intentional.

"I'm just interested in you," he grunted. "Is that so wrong? May I have your name...ma'am?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Who's asking?" She leaned back, sipping her drink.

He swept his eyes over hers. "Misael."

She nodded. "Unique. But that seems an apt description of you isn't it? What do you want with me, Misael? You walked here with purpose. Locked eyes with me immediately. What is your purpose?" She intoned.

She stirred her drink with her finger as she waited, the centrifugal force keeping the drink spinning even as she put her her finger into her mouth, watching him over the table under her lids.

He licked his lips. He'd heard a lot of things. Almost everything. But it was a distinct feeling, her saying his name even if it was dripping with such obvious disdain.

He smirked. "You're observant. And you still haven't told me your name. That's unfair."

"Life is unfair," she shrugged. "Deal or die."

His eye twitched. Why was she always so straightforward and abrasive? Her heart wasn't even beating any faster either. Like she didn't have any fear.

"Fair enough," he nodded. "Well let me buy a drink stranger."

"I trust you with my drink about as far as I could throw you. How much you weigh? Like 450? Pure muscle. 7 feet. You remind me of someone." She scoffed, her lips turning up into an uneasy smile. "Someone very annoying."

Miseal just shrugged. "I get that a lot." He grinned.

His smile was always enough. He put people at ease, almost into a lull. It was his magic, his poison, even more than any of his powers, or his raw strength.

But she seemed immune. Her hair graced the table, as she leaned down to sip her drink.

"I doubt that. Not many people look like you, Misael."

Miseal couldn't disagree. But he could use the next best thing. Charm. And why he was wasting his time on this he didn't know. He couldn't tell. That was, until he reached out and touched her.

Everything inside him screamed that she had to be his. He had to have her. There was something in this touch. He couldn't fathom it. It wasn't like anything he'd seen. Anything he'd felt.

He stood, stumbling away from her, into the waiter. His hand shot out, keeping the waiter steady.

"I...I have to," Miseal cleared his throat and smiled. "Excuse me. Something urgent has come up."

The woman cocked her brow, tucking her hair behind her ear, leaning on her elbow.

"Oh? How could you know? Your phone didn't ring. You didn't even look at it. You got super hearing it something?"

He chuckled nervously. "Ha...it was nice to meet you. I'll be going."

He turned around, stalking away. He wanted to fly away. He wanted to fly away from her. This was the second woman he'd met with some strange gold on him.

Maybe he was coming down with something. It would be a first, but it was possible wasn't it?