Thread: Caught Red-Handed (Cheshire Smirk & Angel)

You know...I really should just let these wounds get infected. They're your own stupid fault and you could perform ... most of your duties in a wheel chair. Rethiel removed his mask and tossed it onto the couch, shaking out his throat length mahogany locks and then taking a sip from his drink. Beneath the mask he was disarmingly handsome pale ivory skin, high cheek bones and a strong but not over-imposing jaw. A long scar stretched from the center of Rethiel's right eyebrow down all the way to his throat, the wicked cut had nearly taken the assassin's eye. Most would've done what they could to prevent scarring, Rethiel had sutured the wound and allowed it to scar, to serve as a reminder to never be so careless again. It was probably time to get that medical kit. Sighing as he went Rethiel made his way back over to the bar, fishing around beneath it until he retrieved a small medical kit. Rethiel brought the white tin back to the pool table and settled down on the edge, taking his time to open the tin and enjoy another sip of his screwdriver. Tweezers would be necessary for the first part of medical aid and so Rethiel retrieved a pair from the kit. Rethiel set the tweezers down a little in front of Rebecca and continued to whistle as he pondered whether or not she deserved help. A maimed servant would be such a bother! In the end she'd be more trouble than she was worth if Rethiel didn't deal with these wounds. However that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun with her, lead her on and make her think he'd actually let these wounds go septic. Fear was something Rethiel savored, it was his favorite emotion to observe. No feeling swallowed a person faster than fear, nothing more debilitating than terror. Rebecca would be allowed to wallow in her own fear, sorrow and guilt for a little while. The fake pondering continued, Rethiel spider-walking his fingers lazily along the curves of Rebecca's rear as he thought about nothing in particular. Oh how much fun this had been! Rethiel's initial plan upon finding Rebecca had been to herd her into the car and be on his way to the estate, but this...This was so much more enjoyable! How long had it been since distant sirens had actually worried him? When was the last time a job didn't go exactly as planned? Variety was the spice of life, and Rethiel relished and thrived in chaos. How do you feel right now? You're a murderer and probably assumed dead by everybody you love after having gone postal on your husband. Was it satisfying...Ending his life? Twist the knife and watch them bleed, that was Rethiel's style. Rebecca's captor planned on breaking her spirit completely, tearing her down to her basest of frames so he could rebuild her just the way he wanted. It was a tricky process, but with just the right amount of maddening torment offset by double-edged rewards Rethiel knew he could make Rebecca into a well-behaved and willing servant. After all, unlike Carol, Rebecca had nothing to run away to...Nothing but a pile of cinders and a mountain of regret. On a particularly cruel whim Rethiel bent down and fished the remote to the TV out of the mesh cup-holder mounted on the pool table and turned the television on. The receiver was already set to the local news which was covering the neighborhood fire precinct's valiant but futile attempts to extinguish the blaze that was Rebecca's home. Rethiel couldn't help but laugh quietly as he watched the flames, a most satisfied smile now curving his lips. Rethiel looked down to watch Rebecca's face as the reporter spoke, listening to the misconstrued story was told. Fire crews are just now clearing out of the home, unable to find any who survived the blaze...Oh dear god! As the last firefighter cleared the front door the entire house collapsed into a heap of charred timbers, structural support devastated by the flames. Naturally nothing had been said about John's decapitated body. First responders weren't allowed to mention potential criminal evidence to on-scene reporters. The news wouldn't learn of the murder until the police had investigated the murder...And more than likely marked Rebecca as a prime suspect in John's death. After all, when a spouse died under questionable circumstances fingers were always pointed at the surviving spouse, even if the marriage had been perfectly healthy before the untimely end. Those cold, dark eyes stayed locked on Rebecca's face, Rethiel awaiting the fresh torrent of misery that was sure to come.