( @intxication )
Benjamin Andropolis. Asa finds as he shoves a bloodied jumper into the kitchen sink to soak it that he likes at least knowing the person's name. Something about it adds to the catharsis, lessens the depravity.
Maybe not really. A man is still dead. Body already dropped off to be cut up and disposed of. And Asa's a little dirtier than he'd expected. He can see it under his fingernails and that's the part he dislikes the most. A shower's probably best.
He's in a stained undershirt and dark slacks in his eclectic little flat where cats sleep and traipse about when he hears a knock. Shit. Shit. Asa wipes his hands quickly on a hand towel, brushes messy and wild hair back - can't help that his eyes are just as wild, untamed in their adrenaline. There's a few jars sitting on the countertop... anyone would know what the dark scarlet liquid is.
Asa checks the peephole and lets out a heavy breath of relief, tugging the door open. "You nearly gave me a heart attack, love. Come in, please. Hurry." He mumbles, pink-tinged fingers grabbing the other's arm to tug him inside.


















