Beto gave a small laugh. A trouble maker. And a flirt. Probably had men falling over themselves thinking she was easy.
And maybe she was. But probably not. She was all about the drama. Still, one had to play the social game. It wasn't exactly taxing, faking it. He rather imagined it as a version of ESL. Emotion as a Second Language. Be too cold and people didn't open up. They didn't trust you. Making deals became more difficult. Rising through the ranks became harder.
So he had to imagine what it felt like, to be in someone else's skin.
The term was an interesting one. He'd actually had a case like that once. It had only served to reinforce his stranglehold on himself, once he'd learned the reasoning. Because this defendant had somehow deluded himself into thinking this this was how to do it. He was honestly seeking some sort of connection to someone outside himself. To feel.
It had shocked him to his core. And he remembered trying to feel when Mami had died. And the realization he couldn't. And it had bothered him that it hadn't bothered him. Very atypical. And then he remembered Jeffrey Dahmer and his desire to keep people with him forever. He didn't want them to leave leave him. Ever. Which he did in the most literal fashion possible.
Statistically, they were outliers. But they were a warning sign, all the same.
He'd have to content himself with ESL.
And so he adopted a flirty banter with Ana. But not as if he were some pathetic man thinking he had a sure thing lined up. He knew better. Nor was he interested
Cooly, he said "Then I suggest you find a seat. Because the work I am getting is on my very tight ass." Mysteriously, he added, "If you are good- and quiet- I may...may let you watch. But I can't be held responsible for happens to you when I drop trou."
The artist's head whipped to him, shock in his eyes. Unexpected, obviously. Of course, the man had tattooed hundreds of asses and breast, as well as other even more intimate areas. It went with the job. Beto, however didn't look the kind, he was sure. He gave the man a reserved smile and then looked back at Ana. Of course, he was lying. It was his calf he was getting worked on.
And maybe she was. But probably not. She was all about the drama. Still, one had to play the social game. It wasn't exactly taxing, faking it. He rather imagined it as a version of ESL. Emotion as a Second Language. Be too cold and people didn't open up. They didn't trust you. Making deals became more difficult. Rising through the ranks became harder.
So he had to imagine what it felt like, to be in someone else's skin.
The term was an interesting one. He'd actually had a case like that once. It had only served to reinforce his stranglehold on himself, once he'd learned the reasoning. Because this defendant had somehow deluded himself into thinking this this was how to do it. He was honestly seeking some sort of connection to someone outside himself. To feel.
It had shocked him to his core. And he remembered trying to feel when Mami had died. And the realization he couldn't. And it had bothered him that it hadn't bothered him. Very atypical. And then he remembered Jeffrey Dahmer and his desire to keep people with him forever. He didn't want them to leave leave him. Ever. Which he did in the most literal fashion possible.
Statistically, they were outliers. But they were a warning sign, all the same.
He'd have to content himself with ESL.
And so he adopted a flirty banter with Ana. But not as if he were some pathetic man thinking he had a sure thing lined up. He knew better. Nor was he interested
Cooly, he said "Then I suggest you find a seat. Because the work I am getting is on my very tight ass." Mysteriously, he added, "If you are good- and quiet- I may...may let you watch. But I can't be held responsible for happens to you when I drop trou."
The artist's head whipped to him, shock in his eyes. Unexpected, obviously. Of course, the man had tattooed hundreds of asses and breast, as well as other even more intimate areas. It went with the job. Beto, however didn't look the kind, he was sure. He gave the man a reserved smile and then looked back at Ana. Of course, he was lying. It was his calf he was getting worked on.