HIS CHEST ACHED MORE NOW than when he had been shot through it, for Alfendi had wrongfully assumed that a creature such as she would not be capable of loving a mortal man, that he was merely a distraction for her, a plaything with which she might fill her time. It would have been easier, in some ways, for that to be the truth, for him to mean nothing to her, because then he might have been able to let her go. He might have been freed.
But Ahri spoke, and it was evident that while she had lied about her form, she had never lied about her feelings. Alfendi listened, although he could not bring himself to look at her, gaze remaining fixated on the kitchen floor as his hand came to settle over his stomach, the other still placed, steadying him, on the countertop. For a moment, he dared to let his thoughts drift to recollections of his mother, how her form of love had been nothing short of monstrous, how she had permitted his abuse and starved him of affection in equal measure. Ahri spoke of how her form of love paled in comparison to that of a human, and Alfendi only wished that that were true, but in his experience, hers was the only love he had never needed to resist, escape or acclimatise to.
"A poor imitation," he repeated softly, wishing that there was some flaw in her he could pick out and use against her - a reason to no longer want her - besides the very essence of what she was. A toothed and bloodthirsty monster, and still hers was the only touch he didn't recoil from. "Perhaps the fault is mine," he told her, his tall frame uncharacteristically small in that moment as he bent over, curving around the hand still placed against his stomach, as if desperately trying to stop himself from falling apart. "Perhaps I saw what I wanted to see. I should've known better..."
The inspector trailed off, and was silent for a beat or two, only to eventually chuckle - albeit weakly - to himself, his hand moving from his stomach to his face, thumb and forefinger pressing against his closed eyes.
"I don't even know what you are," he continued, hand moving to brush his curls away from his face, and he finally straightened, wearing a smile that held no humour, yet seemed to be the only thing holding him together. "What are we to you? Humans, I mean. Equals? Predators?" The smile faltered, just for a moment. "Prey?"