Monster 5

Monster

The man in front of me was everything I expected him to be. From the combed over silver hair to the perfectly pressed creases in his pants. Steel blue eyes glared at me from across the table. I was under no illusion that men broke under that stare.

But I wasn’t most men. And I sure as hell wasn’t about to back down. Meeting his death stare with a smirk, I leant back on the chair, crossing my legs at the ankles. For a second, his eyes flicked towards my boots, and then slowly, as if to intimidate me further, he let his eyes drift up higher, lingering on the patches of my cut.

“Monster? Is that the name I should call you? Or…” he flicked open the file on the worn tabletop, “should I call you…”

“Monster is fine, Mr Monroe.” I grinned. I was getting under his skin far quicker than he was getting under mine. I could already tell. “How can I help you today?” I kept my voice even, friendly almost. Like I wasn’t stuck in an interrogation room. My only crime? Banging the old man’s pre