Do I really scare you? His question kept ringing in my mind. I was well aware of the answer. But I didn't knew how to say it out loud. He didn't scare me. No one scares me anymore but something about him doesn't terrifies me. And as absurd as it sounds I somewhere feel he won't hurt me. He just can't. Every time he tries to say something really hurtful, the night when he played the piano for me flashes in front of my eyes. I swallowed nervously, my grip on the crockery increased. He was waiting for my answer. His eyes boring into mine, searching for answers I myself wasn't sure of.
"Green?" He called me out and I looked up at him. My fingers involuntarily gripping the rim of my glasses as I adjusted them.
"You're an assassin." I muttered out and his left brow rose up in question, shaki
