Patrick Bateman, American Psycho

[in_doesntmatter]

Patrick looked at the paper in front of him before looking around the room itself. He didn't recall exactly how he ended up in the room or why, but he wouldn't show this. Maintaining his mechanical smile, Patrick carefully removed a pen from his breast pocket. Exhaling, he casually glanced around. He intended to pick up his sheets, blood stained

Comments

[waste_lock]

"Do you have a problem with psychopathic murderers? And what the hell does killing have to do with being gay or not? Is that just part of your whiny metrosexual posturing?"

Yuppie scum.

[in_doesntmatter]

The boy looks strange; helpless and god-awfully ugly. Poor kid. I wonder how many hits it'd take to kill him with my punches.

"I do, yes. How can you expect this world to continue progressing with status and stature if we allow such defected people- homosexuals and murderers- to have the same rights and liberties as those of us who are hard-working, honest citizens?"

[waste_lock]

"You do think there's a link, then?" Nny skips closer, bouncing a bit on the balls of his feet. Damn no-kill zone. This guy needs a Sharper Image air filtration device rammed down his throat. "Are killer gays interfering with your gruelling job slaving away in the heterosexual mating mines?"

[in_doesntmatter]

I looked at him with a smile. A smile that allowed him to see just how pathetic and sad I thought he was. I just got a new knife set downtown. It was really expensive and it's really sharp .

"Homosexuals, and there are other groups too, would only expose the darker parts of humanity that are currently kept at bay. If we allow these deviant life styles to surface and become acceptable, our country won't be able to progress and develop properly."

[wh0_kill3d_m3]

Laura's empathic treecat companion yipped in alarm at the newcomer, and by the time she'd read down to the non-sequitur of a Hufflepuff answer, her skin was crawling. Patrick reminded her of her father, and not in a good way.

"Um. Hi. How, ahh, how d'you feel about owls?"

[in_doesntmatter]

Turning around, I meet eyes with the blonde. Not particularly stunning, but she'd serve her purposes.

"Owls?" I asked, wondering if I heard correctly. "I'm ambivalent. I've never met an owl."

[wh0_kill3d_m3]

She tried for a nervous grin. "Well, you'll be meeting 'em now. There's tons of owls around here - a whole room full of 'em up in one of the towers."

Galahad leapt off her shoulder to the floor, placing himself between Laura and the newcomer.

[in_doesntmatter]

The little thing jumps down onto the ground and I'm tempted to kick it, but the thought of its matted feathers on my newly shined shoes keeps me restrained.

"Why do you have this? What does it do?"

[carri3_whit3]

Carrie frowned. "Vid-e-oh tapes. That's another one like that cell phone thaing, isn't it? Somethin' they invented after my time?"

She just hates being made to feel stupid, Carrie does.

[in_doesntmatter]

Poor girl. I can't recall the last time I saw one as disembodied as this one. Not literally of course. I can very clearly recall the last physical disembodiment. I mean, sad. Displaced.

"Yes, darling. They are great inventions that allow you to record things and watch them over and over again. You can tape anything." I nod and flash her a smile, just so she can see what she'd never have.

[carri3_whit3]

Carrie sighed. "Waal, they may not work here. All the magic around does funny things to gadgets. What've you got on your tapes?"

[in_doesntmatter]

I just look at her with an amused stare and take note of her unfortunate appearance. Those are sometimes the best in bed.

"I tape lots of things, dear." I tell her calmly with an evasive smile. "Things you probably wouldn't like."

[rated_ec10]

Hm. There were a lot of things that Preston could have said, but he settled for giving Patrick a measuring look. "What makes you think that doing a thousand stomach crunches is in any way useful?"

[in_doesntmatter]

Without turning, I roll my eyes at the voice behind me. I don't really want to deal with someone who obviously takes very little care of their body. With my back still to the man's voice I laugh in judgmental sympathy.

"You've obviously never had a six-pack before."

[rated_ec10]

Preston had not been at Hogwarts for an overly-long period of time (less than a year, as far as he could tell) and made very little effort to interact with the other students. What usage he'd heard of "six pack" had been confined to the Ravenclaw and Slytherin bars. It's not his fault that the future sucks so much and the term fell out of usage! He wondered what six-packs of beer had to do with anything in this situation. Did this man mistakenly think that stomach crunches would increase his drinking prowess?

But Preston was not an especially verbose person, and the only part of his inner monologue that made itself known was, "What does that have to do with anything?"

[in_doesntmatter]

"It has to do with everything." I tell the man plainly, turning around to greet him. He looks different than I thought, and for a moment I am convinced I'm staring in a mirror. The man's features are flawless and match mine perfectly. Then I see the hair, and am brought back to reality. He had bad hair.

"Do you have a girlfriend? A wife?" I asked casually, preparing to educated this poor bastard on why good abdominal muscles mattered.

[x_dawnstar_x]

Dawnstar's head came up, senses alert, the moment the man appeared in the room. She made her way over to him, a frown on her face.

"You were not here a moment ago."

It's a challenge, not a question.

[in_doesntmatter]

I sense the woman's disappointment and it fuels me to smile a wide grin. Excited by her obvious dissatisfaction.

"You're quite brilliant aren't you?" I asked sarcastically with a wink. "What's with the costume?" I asked curiously.

[x_dawnstar_x]

"I know what I know. You did not exist in this space forty seconds ago."

She looked down at herself. "Costume?"

[in_doesntmatter]

The woman's voice is strange and sounds too educated for her ridiculous get-up. I never thought a stripper or whore would sound so educated. That's obviously what she is, a whore, or else she wouldn't be dressed in some strange, fetish-satisfying uniform. And the wings. That's some sick shit.

"Do people actually want you to wear that for them?" I ask with a charming smile. "If they do, you're obviously going to the wrong clients."