“I remember when you were a hero, you know,” Jagged said, not turning to look at the villain hiding in the shadows.
“What a coincidence. I remember when you were a rockstar.”
To Hawkmoth’s dismay, Jagged merely laughed. “I’m eternal, baby, you know that. Although my agent thanks you for all the free publicity, ticket sales nearly doubled after your little stunt last week.” Hawkmoth said nothing. “You’re so transparent, man. You make this big dramatic show of being a villain, then you come running here the second you pick up on me feeling the least bit upset about it. You really aren’t cut out for this, you know.”
Hawkmoth scowled. “I am doing no such thing. My motives for everything I do are my own, and you cannot begin to fathom them.”
“Is that a challenge?” Jagged leaned against the balcony railing of his suite. “Let’s see, if you’re not here out of guilt, perhaps… nostalgia, then? I remember a certain warm spring night just like this one, back in ‘93. A hero rescuing a rising star after things went south at his benefit concert, a stolen moment on the rooftops before-”
Jagged grinned. “Make me.”
