Handing me a pen is like handy a madman a knife.. At the end of it you know you'll end up with a lot of broken bones, blood, and bodies - but it'll be one hell of a story to tell your friends.
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Why did you wear heels? How are you supposed to fight a gargoyle in what you're wearing?
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Plus, I happened to be a history nerd. Why else would I be interested in a guy born in the year 519?
If I were to lock you up in a dungeon, I guarantee you would not be bored.
The last declaration he'd made to me hung between us. The L word. The one that had nothing to do with like.
The combination of razor-sharp wit (completely real) and his credentials (completely fake) had won them over in the end.
