"Splendid! Perfect, oh how magnificent! How serendipitous! Oh I must exclaim how much this triviality means to me! To feel!" Glancing up and down Alistair he began to see him for what he really was, a young boy. Pretty, soft blonde hair, encircling his forehead. He chuckled.
"Yes! Yes! I know lad, of course it does, you're human, you feel," with a jerky fashion he began to make notes in an otherwise forgotten notepad that had previously been chucked behind the briefcase that leant, dangerously, on a huge stack of papers, he occasionally looked up to see how Alistair was coping. It seemed confusing to Alistair that a man could find pain so exciting, pain hurt. It certainly wasn't fun.
"This isn't pretend," exclaimed Alistair, he was becoming close to tears, a bruise forming around the small cut on his knee. It was impressive that he hadn't cried, in fact he was very amazed that Alistair hadn't cried.
"I want mum," he had resorted to demands, how trivial thought he. I don't demand anything, I don't even demand pain, no matter how hard I try I don't find it. Yet, this idiot, trivial boy seems to find it easily.
"How unfair! I must take the pain away," the boy, hearing this, outstretched his knee so the man could gain access to fix the cut more easily. Bumping into this man was a nice coincidence.
"No, no boy, that cut is meaningless! That pain is unreal, it's not that pain I'm going to take away," a blank stare met Alistair's eyes, confusion swept over his face.
"I... I don't have any other pain," said the boy, completely and utterly oblivious.
The man went quiet, emptily looking at Alistair, all previous thrill now disappeared. "Not yet, but you will,"
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