[ToxicShadow]

Xanthus lingered in the doorway a moment longer, seemingly debating about his next action, before following her into the kitchen. He had hardly gotten over Kitche welcoming him into her house so easily, especially with all the fuss she made about his reappearance; not that he was complaining about it, though. "If you bought a taser, why would you leave it at home rather than carry it with you?" He seemed very unimpressed. "It was pretty useless to you tonight." Intentionally, he left out the comment of, "I've been hit by worse things." Which, in his line of work, was almost disturbingly true. You didn't wield a gun without having taken a bullet or two at some point.

"I'll take them as terms of endearment, then," he said, smirking again, quite enjoying getting to tease the woman here and there. "Pet names are always nice." Even if those were awful in terms of pet names. "And, you know, perhaps." The man shrugged, appearing nonchalant again despite Kitche's wicked grin. She may not have been expecting him to answer, but he suspected that it would throw her for a loop if he replied honestly. "I could have been jealous, you never know. It's surprising to hear a pretty thing like you didn't attract more male attention."

But he then cleared his throat, moving onto more serious matters. "I might as well tell you the story from the very beginning. It's not something most have heard. The mafia that I operate against, and are subsequently after you because of me, is based in an old, ritzy theater under the guise of regular actors and actresses. The mafia's don murdered my father to get the deed to the theater. Don't get me wrong, my father is better off burning in hell, but I want what is rightfully mine." He spoke of his father matter-of-factly, lacking any despairing emotion or qualms with the old man's fate. After chasing off his mother when he was only a kid, Xanthus lost any sliver of respect he might have ever had for his father.

"Knowing that I couldn't take on the mafia in its entirety alone, I partnered up with a man that also has it out for them. He's some kind of god, not okay in the head, but will grant your wishes if the price is right; he's not the sort of man most want to make a deal with. I uphold my end of the deal with him by fulfilling his requests, which is where you came in, those months ago."

[MillietheWarrior]

“Because with my luck, I’d end up tasing myself before the day was through.” Kitche’s scowl was back and more pronounced than before. Just when she was starting to kind of like him, he had to go and point out her stupid mistake. What a jerk. And he was still a creepy stalker. “And what if I had taken it with me? I’d have shocked you six ways to Sunday until your hair was on fire. I don’t think you’d have enjoyed it.” She tightened her arms across her chest defensively, her eyes narrowing into slits. “If that’s your idea of a ‘pet name’ then you have some serious problems,” she snapped, turning away stubbornly to hide the blush the crept up her cheeks at his indication that he might have been jealous. “Just sit down and tell me already.”

She waved at the two chairs and the small table in the middle of the kitchen, and turned to take the boiling water off the stove. She didn’t want her hot chocolate too hot after all. She poured herself a cup, taking a deep breath to gather her wits, and poured his cup as well. She brought his to the table, but remained standing with her own sitting beside her on the counter. When he began his tale, Kitche had to try very hard to restrain herself from cursing; it figured that this was all way more complicated than a bunch of thugs who wanted to kill her for getting two of their own killed. “So let me get this straight. There’s a theater that’s actually a cover for the mafia, and your dad owned it and they killed him to get it, and you don’t give a damn but you want the theatre back.”

She folded her arms over her chest again. “What’s so great about the theatre? Why not make your own, instead of trying to get the old one back?” Her eyes narrowed again, and she leaned forward, hair falling over her shoulder. “Okay, so you work for a psycho, and he gives you want you want if you do the same for him. What does that have to do with me, exactly?” She didn’t think she liked where this was going; that crazy man he mentioned…what did he needed her for? She’d obviously never met him, so why was she involved in all this?

[ToxicShadow]

With his pause, Xanthus gathered up his cup from the table, the liquid inside warming his hands. He gave a "thank you," before giving it a taste. The sweet flavor was a mild shock to his senses, but he appeared to enjoy it, none the less. Though it was with a heavy sigh that he took a seat at the table, deciding to settle in as he finished the story, and make himself seem much less imposing than when he was just standing there. People appeared much less threatening while sitting down, wasn't that right?

"That particular theater wasn't my father's to begin with, he only inherited it from my mother when he chased her off. I was a kid at the time, but she abandoned everything to escape my father, including me." An undertone in his voice betrayed his bitterness, despite the attempt to mask his feelings behind an indifferent expression. "She was an avid collector of antiques, artifacts and famous works of art, all the halls and rooms of the theater are riddled with pieces of her collection. As if that weren't enough, she hid money in the walls and some of her favorite pieces. She was a rich heiress, who had dreams of being an actress, though she met her downfall when she believed she had fallen in love with my father, who wound up being another poor man looking to strike it rich." His existence had only complicated his father's plans. He would have gotten rid of the woman he married much sooner had she not became pregnant with his child and he not wanting to raise it. While Xanthus had been born in the loving arms of his mother, his father had treated him with spite. He had been told, "you should have never been born," many more times than he could even begin to count.

Looking at his cup of hot chocolate rather than at Kitche, he realized that he had now revealed his weakness. Despite his hard exterior, it was true, that he was more of a momma's boy. It was unsavory and cliche, but it was an undeniable fact, with how much trouble he was going through in attempt to reclaim her theater as his own.

"The part where you come in, well, my partner had made an unusual request of me. Though you may have never met him, that doesn't mean that he didn't have his eyes on you for one reason or another. He likes observing people, like they're specimens. He had come to a conclusion that you would be a good candidate for something he wanted to try." Here, the man trailed off for a moment, wondering how he ought to word the next thing he had to say, but there was no way to say it that could lighten the blow. "Bare in mind, that this is not why I am helping you now, but he made the request that I have children, but only with a specific woman of his choosing, something about getting the right genetics. That woman would be you. He wanted to arrange it so that we would be forced to meet in one of those damnable, what do people call them? Ah. Breeding rooms."

"However, I refused, so he told me to observe you instead, to hold my decision. Then, of course, you had gone and gotten attacked, quite possibly because I had my eyes on you. Regardless of if you could have been replaced with another candidate had I let them take you, I... didn't want them to. I wanted to protect you. Though not because I wanted to... Well, you get the idea." He had acted purely on blind impulse to protect Kitche. He didn't want one of those men to take her away, to touch her, to erase her existence from this world. Xanthus couldn't rationalize any of it, but it had happened.

[MillietheWarrior]

Kitche didn’t get why Xanthus was so sad about his mother running off. She’d grown up without any parents at all, and she turned out just fine. Well, generally, she turned out okay. She’d be the first to admit she had a few personality problems, but really, what did that matter in the long run? Her brows drew together as she listened to him, still a little confused about the value of heirlooms and other such things. The money she understood, but everything else was baffling. “Huh,” she said at last, a faint smile on her face as she tilted her head and fixed  him with an amused look.

“So you really love your mother, I guess. Why don’t you try to find her? Unless…Well, never mind.” She scratched the back of her head awkwardly; she didn’t know how to deal with deep emotion like that, especially concerning parents. She’d been raised by a bunch of random, different people, and none of them ever really stuck around long. She still saw them from time to time, but now their relationship was less of a caretaker and child and more of an acquaintance saying ‘hi’ once in a while.

As Xanthus continued his story, however, her smile faded, wiped off her face completely to be replaced by a look of shock and slowly, anger. “W-what?!” she managed, feeling her knees give out momentarily and just barely catching herself on the edge of the counter. “Are you insane?! Why would you- How could he- WHAT?!” The entire thing was almost too surreal to be believed, but considering everything she’d been through in the past year, it wasn’t as far-fetched as it seemed. She clutched a hand over her heart, her breathing ragged and her face very pale. “That-that is the most disturbing thing I’ve ever…” her eyes suddenly snapped to him, blazing with fury as she seemed to forget her momentary weakness and stormed towards him, grabbing his chin and forcing his face to hers.

“YOU!” she seethed, breath hissing between her teeth. “This is ALL your fault! All of this! Because you’re employer wanted to use me in some sick little experiment to-to have babies! And you’re trying to tell me you saved me because you wanted to protect me?! Out of the kindness of your twisted little heart?! And you expect me to believe you? How do I know all of this isn’t some freakish way of getting into my pants?! How do I know it’s not all some roundabout scheme to make me-” She shuddered, turning away from him. “-have your children?! Why should I believe you?” She reared back her hand, balling it into a fist. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t punch you into next week right now.” That explained why he was so dead set on her, and Kitche couldn’t help but feel a stab of betrayal deep in her heart.

All this time, she’d kinda, sorta thought maybe he really did care for her. And the feelings she’d kinda, sorta been feeling for him no longer made her feel warm and fuzzy, but angry and disgusted. How could he do something so…sick? How could he even work for someone so twisted? In the long run, she should’ve known that he wasn’t a good guy. He’d killed people, and practically uprooted and ruined her life, but despite that, she’d wanted to like him (even if she kept denying it to herself). But now…all of this. She felt betrayed, hurt, angry, and she couldn’t stop the humiliated, bitter tears that squeezed from the sides of her eyes and trailed traitorously down her cheeks.

[ToxicShadow]

As the weight and meaning of his explanation settled onto Kitche, Xanthus worked his expression back into something indifferent, not knowing how to handle it otherwise. Before his eyes, she was cracking and breaking up with her flurry of emotions. She had every right to be angry with him, but he had hoped in vain that she would have at least believed him. When he rescued her, when he spent day in and day out worrying about her welfare and if she would be okay, it wasn't because that monster of a god, Jakerz, had wanted to pair him with her. He would have never done those things just because he was told that he should have, they just happened, and he did desire to protect her, even if he couldn't say why that really was. If he had known clearly why, he would have told her, but he was rather oblivious to most feelings of attachment.

He didn't fight when Kitche pulled his face to hers, not even batting an eyelash as she spoke right into his face. His smoldering golden eyes stared right back into hers, not flinching or shying away. She would just have to understand, but he wasn't sure how to convey it all. "Would I have told you the truth if this was just a way to trick you, Kitche?" Part of him seemed hurt, with those particular words leaving his mouth.  "If the only thing I wanted from you was sex, don't you think I had more than enough opportunities to come onto you from when I stayed with you before? If it was for that reason, I would have been okay with hurting you or making you truly hate me, but what have I done to you, to suggest that I might just be after you for sex? What idiot risks their lives for something like that?!"

Having grown irritated, he pushed himself up from his seat abruptly, a deep growl escaping his throat. However, he turned his head away from her just as quickly as it came, trying to reel in his escalating temper. With fingers pressed to his temple, he continued, relatively calmer than before, even if some of it was through his own clenched teeth. "I wouldn't have spent every waking moment after your vanishing act worrying about you, rather you were doing well, if the mafia would come for you still, if you were just any happier than before, if it was for something so stupid. Fuck, you wouldn't be seeing any part of my actual self if I didn't actually care about you."

"I told you already, I wouldn't have interfered with your life again if I didn't have to, if you hadn't been faced with death out there on the street - or much worse." His words were sincere, though, in his opinion, it was doubtful if she would think he was telling her the truth. The story of how this started wasn't pretty but, to him, it wasn't even important any more. He didn't give a damn what Jakerz wanted him to do with Kitche - he just couldn't do something like that to her. She was already too precious for that.

"Don't cry," he finally said as her tears spilled over, wanting to comfort her, but at a loss as to how. "Just don't cry. I don't know what to do if you cry." Xanthus reached one hand out to her, as if he wanted to hold her or brush her tears away, but he withdrew it quickly enough in fear of upsetting her further. "Please."

[MillietheWarrior]

Part of her would’ve been much happier if he’d fought her instead of trying to reason with her. If he’d pushed her away and screamed at her, part of her would’ve been more satisfied with his answer. Another small part of her knew that he was telling the truth; what kind of person made up stories like this? And as screwed up as it all sounded, it made sense. He’d never actually tried anything on her (despite invading her personal space a few times) and he…well, he did seem to genuinely care about her well-being, even if he showed it in a roundabout way. Kitche sniffed, cursing the traitorous tears and her own gender for being so prone to tears and emotion in situations like these, and flopped into the chair across from him. She rubbed at her eyes, her mouth turned down in a scowl as she glared up at him.

Just because she somewhat-kind of-maybe-sort-of believed what he was saying, didn’t make any of it any less wrong. She’d been chosen as nothing more than a glorified baby-maker by some whacked out psycho who thought he was a God, and subsequently stalked by an ‘idiot with a gun’ and had her entire life turned upside down because he wanted to spy on her. It was freaky, and weird and it pissed her off. He kept saying he ‘cared for her’ and he was ‘worried about her.’ That small part of her that knew he was telling the truth, knew he was right. But she didn’t have to like it. She still wanted to rant and rave at him, for all the good it would do, and she still wanted to punch him in the face, but she did owe him; he’d saved her tonight from being killed or worse, and she hated to admit that she owed him for it, at least.

She flinched away when his hand came towards her, an involuntary reaction that she’d acquired from years of being on her own. “So you’re telling me you defied the man who has the potential to help you get back everything you ever lost because you didn’t want me to get hurt,” she managed at last, her voice soft and her face uncharacteristically vulnerable. She had her hands in her lap, playing with the hem of her skirt, not daring to meet his eyes. “Part of me wants to believe that, because it sounds…nice. But another part of me knows that nothing in this world is free or easy. So you had to have had an alternate reason for saving me. You can’t possibly expect me to believe you didn’t want me to die just…because.”

She lifted her lashes, staring at his hands in quiet contemplation; that same, small traitorous side of her wanted him to hug her, to hold her and comfort her and tell her he had no alternate agenda and he did care for her. But she was nothing if not a realist, and she wasn’t stupid enough to think that was true. “Why are you still hanging around me? What is it you really want from me? I…I’ll help you with it, if that’s what you want. I owe you for saving me, at the very least.” She didn’t sound like herself; the normal Kitche would’ve been spitting embers at him, but the entire truth was enough of a shock to her system to subdue her almost entirely, and her own compliance frightened even her.

[ToxicShadow]

Explaining himself without letting his temper get the best of him was much more difficult than Kitche could have even begun to imagine. So was it difficult not advance on her, not to kiss when she got close or hold her when she moved away, to show his feelings for her plainly and honestly. However, Xanthus fought to choke off both of these things, in favor of not pushing her away from him. If he were to yell at her or to make any move on her, he was certain it would only prove to getting him kicked out in an instant. Besides, if he did rush forward, wouldn't she then just assume that it was because he was merely trying to get in her pants? Women were complicated and he was doing his best to tiptoe around her, though he couldn't say for sure if it was getting him anywhere good.

Finally, his irritation got the better of him, and Xanthus' clenched fist slammed down against the top of the table, nearly sending his cup of hot chocolate spilling over. "I don't want your damn help, Kitche. This was never something you could help me with. I just don't want you to get hurt because of this mess. It's not something you decided on, so you can't pay for it with your life. Doesn't that make sense? For you not to die because you don't deserve to?"  Was it so wrong, even just in human nature alone, to not let someone get killed right before your eyes, even because of you, when they had done nothing wrong? Was it so terrible that he had heart enough to save her in the end? Maybe he had killed people, countless people, even, for his own goals, but that was different from Kitche's predicament. It wasn't the same, because she had done no ill. In these matters, she was entirely innocent, unlike himself.

Though his mind went somewhere else with his next words, "Do you realize, if I hadn't defied what he said and I had truly pursued you, and we had children, what would have become of them?" Xanthus had seen with his own eyes what Jakerz had done to children that he claimed as his own little toys, what they had become. It may have happened before he was even there to say something against it, but that didn't mean that he didn't feel any guilt for those children that had their souls separated from their bodies just so that the empty shells could be controlled and used for hosts for his little monsters. Xanthus had no idea what he was getting into when he made a deal with Jakerz, but it was like a deal with the devil, there was no way that you could back out while holding on to your life. He shook his head. "Luckily for you, after you vanished, he claimed you were a lost cause. From what I last heard, though, he's looking for another candidate." It certainly wasn't pleasant news for him to hear, either. "But I have no intention of just having kids with some random woman in the first place." He had to do whatever he could in order to stall until Jakerz lost his patience and interest, as he had done by merely watching Kitche rather than go after her in the first place.

He couldn't take it any longer, her tears and her inability to look at him. As she was acting out of character, it was far passed time for him, too, even if maybe this was his true character. He'd been pretending to be this way and that way for so long, he wasn't familiar with himself. In a swift movement, he had pulled the woman from the chair and into his arms, pulling her tightly into an embrace with his arms around her waist. A part of him was waiting for her to scream, push him away, or even fulfilling that threat of a punch to the face, but that couldn't stop him from hoping that she wouldn't fight, that she would just understand his feelings from his actions if she was having such a difficult time believing his words. "I told you that I would have gotten jealous if you had some other guy around," he whispered in her ear. "When a man tells you that, it means that he must really care about you." He wasn't just spouting lies to get her to trust him, for once in his life, he was being genuine.

[MillietheWarrior]

Kitche kept her eyes determinedly focused on her lap; if she didn’t look at him, then maybe she could forget about all of this nonsense, and maybe she could forget he’d lied to her, and maybe she could forget how fucked up this entire thing really was. If she ignored it, it would all go away. When his fist hit the table, Kitche nearly leapt out of her skin, her chair tipping dangerously as she flailed wildly for purchase. The hot chocolate cups toppled over, spilling their contents all over the tabletop and onto the floor, where it pooled in a dark, liquid puddle. His words brought something in her back to life; anger. So he didn’t need her help, huh? He’d basically ruined her life, and even after she offered to help, he didn’t need it? “Well excuse me for caring!” she screeched, shooting to her feet, her feet clenched at her sides.

“Maybe I won’t help you! Get your stupid theatre back on your own! See if I care! Go and have kids with some random woman!” The tears were back, those traitorous bastards, and they rolled down her cheeks without her consent. He wasn’t worth crying over, she told herself. He wasn’t worth beating herself up over, and he certainly wasn’t worth so much of her anger! Still, the idea of him actually going out and having kids with some random woman sent a stab of pain through her heart, pain which she studiously ignored and shoved back into the very recesses of her mind. “Go…just go and…and do whatever the hell it is you do! As long as it’s far away from-” Her words were cut off as the air was driven out of her by the force of his sudden, and completely unexpected embrace. Instead of screaming, or wriggling away, or even punching him, Kitche froze, her entire body trembling in his grasp. Her wide eyes stared at the collar of his jacket, nose bumping into his collarbone as she tried to process exactly what was going on.

Slowly, her gaze lifted to his face, to the edges of his hair that tickled the side of her cheek, and her breath caught in her throat. A large part of her wanted to believe him, but there was that small child inside of her that screamed that it was dangerous to trust other people. Look where that had gotten her so far. That child-like part of her, though, was too small to be heard, and almost without her consent, her hands lifted, rising until they wrapped around his torso, clenching themselves in the fabric of his jacket and hanging on for dear life. “I don’t…understand,” she murmured, her face pressed against his shirt, muffled by the cloth. “I don’t get you at all. What is all this? Why me? It doesn’t make any sense.” She heaved a heavy sigh, her face sliding upwards so she could gaze up into his eyes.

“I wish I really knew why you think you care about me; I’m not really that interesting, aside from the death threats and running form the mafia. But most of that’s your doing, isn’t it?” She chuckled humorlessly, her fingers tightening in the fabric of his jacket as she let her head flop back down onto his chest. “Tell me…if we had kids…what would’ve happened to them?” she whispered softly. “When you said that, your face was so white, so afraid. What would’ve happened?” Her eyes darkened as she pressed her nose into his shirt, muffling her next words. “Because I’d rip anyone who tried to touch my kids into tiny little pieces, God or no God.”

[ToxicShadow]

((As the circumstances have changed, since Xanthus actually got to have a daughter prior to being with Kitche, I deleted my original post and, thus, am replacing it with something that suits the plot change.))

"I doubt these are the sorts of things that people are supposed to understand," Xanthus said, and though he was entirely serious, there was a hint of dark amusement in his voice. The things that he had been exposed to, they weren't the sorts of things normal people were supposed to see, and hardly things that were intended for them to understand.

Kitche wanted him to explain it all in great detail, but that just wasn't something he was fully capable of. Why did he take such an interest in her? He didn't know the exact reasons himself. Sure, the woman was beautiful to him, but it wasn't as if he fancied her just because she was looker, then and now. The best way he could put it... "You're safe, Kitche." Being beside her, it put him at ease somehow, something he hadn't felt since he was a small child. It was like when he was with her, nothing else in the world mattered, and he cared for her and wanted to protect all the more because of that. "I am myself around you. You are comfortable and comforting to be around. Your presence... puts me at ease. And you're headstrong to boot." Which, apparently, that was something he was into. Weak women, or those that were easily manipulated, they were certainly not as interesting as a woman that held fast to their own thoughts and values, willing to fight for them or spout off their opinions of something. She was a challenge and didn't take anything from anyone, and he liked that about her. He admired that quality in her.

He moved one hand to gently stroke the back of her hair repeatedly as he held her close, in a comforting gesture of his own - his way to brace her for the answer to her question. Xanthus was terrified of having children, but one of the important reasons behind it was something he was hesitant to tell her, as if it would topple the remnants of the very unsteady, decent opinion that she may have still held for him. Still, being as involved as she was, she also had a right to know. He was about to paint himself in an even more terrible light.

"I... have a daughter," he revealed, staring straight ahead of him, unwilling to see her expression. "It was a common occurrence, before he came to believe that you're the ideal genetic partner for me, that I was frequently sent out meet with women that he had made arrangements for me to meet. Usually harmless things, like blind dinner dates. At the time, I had no idea what he was up to, why I was to meet them. Having a child was completely unintentional, how could I want to bring a child into this world when I live the life that I do?" He wasn't fit to be a parent, nor was he in any situation that would have been an acceptable environment to rear a child. "The mother, a woman I hardly knew, made the decision to carry the child, but turned out even more unfit than I was to care for her." From the tone of his voice, he carried a lot of grief for what had happened. "I... I should have done something more." He made the decision to raise Xillia, not willing to abandon his child, but maybe he should have. There had been the option to give her away, send her to an orphanage, and maybe she would have had a better life. The uncertain aspect was what had stopped him, countless times. She might have had a better life, but she might have been worse off, being raised by complete strangers, or she might not have been adopted at all. At the very least, he wanted his daughter to know that at least her father loved her.

"The things he's done to children... He's stripped the souls from the bodies of two children of one of his experiments, that doesn't even know she's an experiment from him tampering with her memories. The souls were put into puppets, while he's... cultivating the bodies to use as hosts. He altered both their own memories and that of their mothers, so they have no idea of what happened and supposedly don't find it unusual that they are living puppets. There was even another child, belonging to a woman that is under a contract similar to my own. He forced her to rear a child, the same he intends for me to do, and her daughter was slated to be murdered so that he could gain the abilities that she was born with. He has the reputation of killing those with desirable powers and taking them for himself, including trying to kill the woman he supposedly loved." He shook his head, unable to imagine it, as he held Kitche just that much tighter against him.  As twisted as Jakerz was, he even betrayed the person that loved him and that he claimed to love in return, only wanting to use her as a tool, a means to an end for himself. "The mother pleaded with him to spare her daughter's life, said that she would give anything, but was unable to be swayed. I helped the mother send her daughter away before he could get to her, but that isn't to say that she's safe."

"In the end, I couldn't stop him from experimenting on my own daughter... She's not really... normal anymore. I tried to protect her, but all I could do was stop him from really hurting her by throwing myself deeper into his clutches. He treats her incredibly kind, so she even agreed to the experiments very willingly, but that makes me all the more wary." Not only wary, but he sounded downright horrified and furious by the thought. Whatever Jakerz had planned for Xillia, Xanthus was unquestionably certain that he wouldn't like it, but, even as her father, there wasn't much he could do if Xillia made her own decision to make a deal with him.

"I've already failed to protect one child, one that he had no specific interest in having exist." If he had been anyone else, any more normal person, the thought could have broken him completely. He was a failure as a father, too weak to protect even his own child properly. Yet, he had never been allowed the luxury to feel weak, embarrassed, or to show any of his sorrow. There was no time for that, he had to be strong and indifferent, and the least he could do was put on a brave face for Xillia. "I have no doubt that whatever he had planned our for children, ones he wanted especially, would be much more heinous. Although I would have done everything in my power to stop him from doing anything to harm them, I can't say that I would survive a confrontation with him. He is swayed if you make a deal with him or convince him something is for his convenience, but he isn't the type to have pity or mercy." He'd only protected Xillia in the ways that he did by binding himself in stronger chains to Jakerz but, sometime, he would run out of things to use as leverage. There was only so much of himself that he could barter away before there would be nothing left.