"Lyric," he says slowly, as if reading my mind, "I know you don't understand... I know that, to you, I am the bad guy and always will be your enemy. But I mean you no harm. I am simply a victim of love, surely you can understand that."
He pauses as if he wants me to answer in some way, but I stayed silent, anger permeating off me.
"You know what I think about you? I think," he pauses again, raising his hand to just about eye level and making a few motions. Like magic a single, deep red rose appeared in his hand, "that you are like this rose. Gorgeous," he explains, tracing the delicate petals," but very well protected." He touches his finger gently to a thorn and instantly a small stream of blood sped down his hand. "But, my dear, this only phases those who truly want the rose. The thorns can be removed... quite easily in fact." The blood on his hand disappeared and he grasped the stem, moving his hand down it as the thorns turned to dust, falling to the floor just in front of him.