Pete was fortunate to possess a fast metabolism, and although he didn't regularly engage in strenuous exercise, the sweet-tooth did nothing to harm his slim physique or negate his wiry strength. Attributes that were possibly due to the same genetic combination that had graced him with a sharp intelligence, rat cunning, and a penchant for rape and murder. The man cocked an eyebrow at Analise's grimace, surprised after what he'd seen in her refrigerator that she allowed sugar at all.
Empty calories, and unhealthy, it might be, but the sweetness boosted his energy, and it wasn't as if Pete Norris believed he'd live long enough to need be concerned about heart-failure or diabetes. However, it did appear that his diet would be another way to piss off Analise, and it didn't always take torture to amuse the man. Sometimes the small things were just as fun.
"A boy, I think. That's the problem these days. A dearth of male-school teachers, broken families and single mothers. Young males no longer have role-models to look up to, and teach them how to be productive members of society." His eyes gleamed with amusement, and his tone contained obvious sarcasm. If there was anything in the world Pete despised as much as weak women, it was kids. Noisy, useless, selfish, ungrateful bastards, every damn one of them, therefore, unlike Josef Fritzl, he had no intention of fathering a child with any of their captives. Not that they'd be left in any state to conceive, anyway.
Could she tell he was enjoying himself? Pete wasn't certain, and didn't particularly care, when he touched her shoulder in a parody of comfort, and for the first time since they'd become acquainted, sensed her flinch. "I'm glad we agree, especially since as I'm not allowed to reside here, someone will be required to clean up the mess, and bathe and feed them." Norris shrugged. If he were simply a guest, allowed to enter only with Analise's acquiescence, he wasn't going to assist with the domestic duties.
After a sip of the sweet coffee, which elicited a contented sigh, he turned his attention to the revealed door, smiled knowingly at her brief hesitation, then with mock courtesy motioned for her to lead, and as the steps creaked under their feet, nodded in approval. Analise might be a difficult bitch, but again, she'd proved they were on the same page with her preferences. However, when they entered a basement area straight from a Hollywood horror flick and the conversation turned to hair-colour, he half tuned-out.
Pete was struck with its suitability immediately, and began to envisage the renovations required when he stepped further into the room. Not many; it wasn't as if they'd be offering five-star accommodation, so all they'd really need to purchase were some cots from Army Surplus, nails, hammers, chains, hooks, and a few other supplies from the Hardware store, and to ensure the plumbing worked. Whether the shower ran or not was inconsequential, as the slut's would most likely be hosed down like filthy farm animals, however, that would require a source of water. "Perfect," he whispered, before his bright-blue eyes focused on Analise.
"Does a bear shit in the woods?" Pete responded to her question with one of his own, and approached. As he neared her, he reached up to cup Analise's chin between thumb and forefinger, however there was no anger in the gesture, as there had been previously, nor when he leaned in so that their lips were almost close enough to kiss. "I'm going fuck to her every hole, and I want a dyke. Don't you think every lesbian should have the pleasure of experiencing at least one cock before she dies, Analise?"
The killer paused to allow the statement, that referred as much to her as their proposed victim, to sink in, then smirked, dropped his hand, and continued to speak as he paced the room. "A girl who's the apple of her parents eye, and beloved by all, so it'll be harder to imagine whose pain is the worst. That which she'll endure before the comparatively swift ending, or her family and friends, who'll need to live with her absence, and the knowledge of how her last hours were spent. Believe me, as I ravage the slut, I will be reminding her of the grief her death will cause to those left behind."
Measuring the basement as he talked, kicking the sink to check its stability, and banging the walls to gauge their thickness, Pete's gaze didn't return to the woman until he'd completed a full circuit, and come to a halt two feet in front of her. Sarcasm returned to his tone, as did mirth to his expression. "And what about you, honey? Will you participate, or remain a voyeur, an innocent bystander swept away by the unstoppable tide? Or maybe you plan to video the event for posterity, then sever my spine when my back is turned, your true lowly little aim of being present at the moment of death achieved. I don't quite trust you yet Ms Helm, or believe that you comprehend the reality, so I'll be watching. Now, as they say, birds of a feather flock together, so where do you suggest we find ourselves a nice, happy-go-lucky, coloured dyke to rape?"
Although Pete had half tuned-out earlier, he definitely hadn't missed the inherent similarities between Analise's preferred victim type, and the woman herself.
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