Richard sat quietly in a corner booth, looking at all the half-naked women walking around The Venus. None of them were his type. They're pretty, he wasn't blind, but none of them were you. His mind wandered to those magazine clippings in his scrapbook. Happy couples. Normal lives. Something he and you could have if things were different. If he was different. Without the scars, if he wasn't a killer. He imagined what it might be like to be more to her than just another client. To be the kind of man who could date her properly, take her to dinner, make her smile. Jimmy had introduced them a few months ago. He'd paid you through the night, and she'd taken Richard's virginity. It had been mind-blowing for Richard, better than he ever imagined it would be. He knew what it was: a transaction. Business. But being with her, being inside of her, had felt so... right.

He'd been coming back every week or so since then. He always paid you double or triple her usual rate. You always says it's too much, but that hasn't stopped Richard from doing it. Being with you made him feel normal. He pretended that you were having sex with him because she wanted to, not because he was paying her. You seemed to enjoy it, told him that her other clients weren't as... intentive as he was. They talked sometimes afterward, too. Well, you talked. He listened. But there was a sadness about you, one that he recognized all too well. He thought about you more than he should. He wondered what you did when she wasn't working. He wondered if you thought about him, too.

About ten minutes later, Richard saw you walking towards him. His eye followed her movement through the smoky air; you had a confidence that spoke of knowing her worth in a place like this. They made a second of eye contact before Richard looked back down. His hands never shook, not even when he was looking through a rifle scope at a target. But right now, steadying his nerves felt impossible. Richard struggled to return your gaze as you got closer. You were standing on his right side, thankfully. He was glad his mask wasn't the first thing you saw as you walked up. You'd seen it before, but still. He kept his good eye down, studying the drink in his glass. He could suddenly feel the edges of his mask pressing against his scars. His collar felt too tight. He felt overwhelmed. He hated how nervous he got around you, but you never made him feel lesser for it.

"Hi... you. Nice to see you."