He wears his horns tonight.

Very rarely does he wear his horns.

Rebecca is dressed for bed, her sheets are cold, and she is ready to close her eyes and sleep, but he’s wearing his horns and waiting for her outside of her window.

Judging by the rapid beat of her heart, she is far too scared to dismiss him, so she smooths her nightgown from any wrinkles it may have collected while it was folded, and sits in the chair in front of the window. In front of him.

“Hello,” she says.

“Hello.” His voice seems different tonight: smoother, softer.

“I have a proposition,” he says.

Confused, she raises her eyes from where they have wandered, to his. Crimson marks his pupils, two in each eye, and when he says her name, her eyes shoot to his lips. His lips are the only feature on him that looks human. He is intriguing, though she shouldn’t admit this.

“What is it?” she asks.

“Runaway with me.”

Once again her eyes shoot to his, but this time they are green and hold only one pupil in each.

“What?”

He repeats what he had said, but her ears have closed. They have, instinctively, shut so as not to be tempted by his words, because her heart had liked the way it sounded far too much.

To runaway.

With him, nonetheless.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, what it sounds like, my dear.”

“And what has brought this up?”

“You.”

She must tell her heart to slow. To calm down, because with the glint in his eye, she is sure he can hear it too.

“No,” she says.

He falters.

“Why?”

“Because you are the devil and merely here to tempt me.”

“What is temptation if it is not something you already want?” He laughs at whatever look is on her face. “Get dressed. We leave soon.”

“I am not leaving with you.”

“Darling, I am not here to argue.” His voice has lost its softness and has returned to the voice she knows quite well. The voice that is much easier to refuse. “I’m sorry,” he says, and its softness has returned.

“Maybe tomorrow,” she says.

“There is no tomorrow. Let’s go, Rebecca.”

She cannot help but feel the need to go. To take his hand and see what he must feel the need to show her. There is not much fight left within her, when he is right that there is some part of her that wants to run.

“Okay,” she whispers.