why are you following me ?
๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ & ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐. regardless of his caution, she has still seemed to notice his presence. it wasn't hard to spot someone like him - he was an eye sore. stuck out in a crowd, even in the most busy streets of NEW YORK. there was nothing about him that gave way to an intention of concealment. it was as if he wanted to be caught - to be noticed by those that he was following. though, that didn't mean that he necessarily would stop just because they had come to realize. stubborn as always, he wouldn't give up solely based on the fact that someone had taken notice. bolder than most - she spins around & asks the question most asked: why are you following me? did he have a good reason for it? absolutely not. because it was funny. because he wanted to. there was no true reasoning that would have made a valid point. he was nothing more than a creature of habit, stalking & killing as he pleased.
bringing his shoulders up, he gives a nonchalant shrug. had he been following her, it was almost as if he hadn't noticed. almost as if he wanted to turn this around to make her seem like the paranoid one. hoisting his bag up onto his shoulders, he readjusts himself before walking up closer to his target. he wants a better look at them. up till now, his view had only been from a distance. well, now it seemed as if he had an opportunity to properly introduce himself - in the middle of the street, night - time. walking up to her without a semblance of caution for himself, he takes a good - long look at her. he didn't seem to have much to say for himself, likely a disappointment on their terms. bringing his hand up, he gives a little half - wave, it might as well have been time to say 'hello' - as if he hadn't the opportunity to do so up till then.
