The woman lit the match and dropped it on the bush, then turned and walked back to the sidewalk. When she turned back, the flames had already started licking at the large, wooden house.
The fire reflected in her glasses and burned in her eyes as she grinned when the screams started ringing out.
"So long, mon cher. I hope you've learned your lesson~"
The woman startled when she heard a man clear his throat behind her. She whirled to face him.
The man was tall and lanky, with long light-blue hair tied back in a ponytail, thick-rimmed glasses covering his eyes, and a black suit.
The woman immediately recognized him.
"Mr. Burns. Head of Burns Fashion Company."
"Ah, you know me."
"Of course I do. Everyone does."
The man smiled wearily, then looked at the house, now engulfed in flames. "I'm assuming you did this?"
"I- "
Mr. Burns put a gloved finger to her lips to shush her.
"Thank you, kind ma'am. I was on my way to do the same thing."
"Je suis désolé, quoi?"
"A woman I'm not quite fond of lives in this house with her fiancé."
"Her fiancé was my husband."
"Ah. That explains quite a lot."
"Yes, it does."
The woman's eyes widened when she heard police sirens in the distance, breaking the night's silence.
Mr. Burns smiled. "Care to walk with me, miss . . . ?"
"Gwyneth Smith. Or, I guess, Gwyneth Pierre, now. But you can call me Gwynnie. And charmed to."
"Ah, Gwynnie. Has a lovely ring to it."
"Thank you, Mr. Burns."
"Please love, call me Arthur."
"Thank you, Arthur."
