The siren is completely wrapped up in the story this child was telling, perhaps even a little awe-struck. Even as they paused to laugh, she appropriately not-so-appropriately reacts with a grin. Who was she to pass up listening to a good murder story? Any normal person â thatâs what. Which is WHAT she most certainly was not. Sometimes you could find entertainment in the most strangest places, and from even stranger people.Â
Serenity leans her chin on her hand, an amused giggle bubbling through her.
â Indeed. It almost makes me feel bad for them when they are met face to face with their own despair⌠But ah, thatâs usually the best part anyway, â A shake of her head and a chuckle. â You are quite the novelty, arenât you ? Iâve never met someone that possessed such enthusiasm for the kill. At least, not someone your age. Not that I am judging, no. But I am curious what brought you to this point to begin with ? â
   How could someone be so upbeat and jovial while talking about the raw deception and following evisceration of human life...?Â
   Why, like this, of course!
   That signature grin lined the little oneâs face like a glove   or more specifically, a glove that was too small to fit oneâs hand, forcing fabric to stretch and tear at large to wrap itself along oneâs digits. Tugging on what their human form was made to do, skin ripped a bit at the cheeks as true delight in the hunt forced too much joy. The fact that it spawned any joy at all should have made flags of blazing crimson sprout up and wave frantically in the face of any standard onlooker, unsettling and dangerous to any normal being that was subjected to such an uncanny conversation...
   But after their already-shared words and the mutual enjoyment it brought... yes, it was quite obvious that they didnât share normal company, wasnât it?
   Such a testament was only continued further as their company spoke, spawning forth another burst of bubbly and lighthearted laughter from the creature. ââFeel badâ she says~! Yes, quite the emphasis on âalmostâ indeed!â The realization of an unavoidable GAME OVER was when a day went from good to great!Â
   The sirenâs questions, though, bring the child back to a bit of normalcy... at least, their own personalized, mutilated version of it, anyways. A smile shrinks and softens, head tilting in thought as their trusty knife was brandished. Sullied with ruby-red blood it was, not a spec anywhere near dried. And as it was dipped into the nearby water, it was made even clearer of its freshness, swirling the foul metal around in a growing pool of its own red diffusing outward during light contemplation.Â
   It was more often than not that they were asked âWHY!â in a victimâs final moments, but itâs not so often that the question was posed in a light quite like this.
   âWell... Iâve always been a bit of a completionist when it came to things. Games are meant to be enjoyed, and for me, the most satisfaction is derived from a job well-done. You are to be thorough with your work, games should be squeezed for all they have to offer! Anything less would be wasteful, donât you know.âÂ
   It was ten percent business and ninety percent pleasure. It was a numbers game, after all! It was always a numbers game! âI play, I grow, and further does the playing field expand. More challenges, fresh interactions! New paths to pick, extra never-before-seen routes to take! And then I do it all again! What else in existence could be more delightful than a game that never ends~!â
   Arms outstretch with a fan outwards, legs extend as far as they would go, and a smile without rival fills the face to the point of bursting... Until a body returns to its slackened state, knocking shoes up against their seat once more. Would the water-dweller understand their words? Probably not. Not truly. Most typically didnât. But an answer of some sort was given to the otherâs curiosity. Now...
   âA question for a question, it is only fair: why and how do you hunt?â