"Where is she?" he asks, voice low, musky, and threatening. I like the sound of it. "What makes you think I'll tell you?" I've never understood why men chase after women who leave them; desperate little bastards. All I need is a few more moments. Just enough for the girl to reach my garage. He raises an eyebrow at me while I let my eyes wander across his face, taking his features in. Interesting. Trouble always intrigued me, and tonight, he wears its face. If he's not going to press me further, though I doubt he'll stay quiet, I might as well leave Owen's shop. I grab some tissues from the table on my left and shove them against his chest. He catches them without breaking eye contact. His hand brushes past mine, and I grimace, jerking my hand away. A crooked grin plays at his lips. And instead of punching it off his face, because I can't afford to break my hand with a performance tomorrow; I just smile, all sweet and innocent. "I suggest you wipe that smirk off your pretty face while you're at it," I say, nodding at the trail of ice cream now dripping down his suit jacket, all the while wishing him a painful fall down a flight of stairs, deep in my mind. Whatever trance those dark eyes had me in, I break it. And turn to leave. ----- This is the story of Minyana Rousse and Dwayne Graves: two broken souls bound by vengeance and secrets no one wants uncovered. ----- She is a moth. He's the fire. And he plans to watch her burn.