The room is dim, lit only by the amber glow of a desk lamp. Outside, rain lashes against the windows with relentless insistence, as if trying to slip into the air thick with silence and unanswered questions. Dave sits on the edge of the couch, drumming his fingers against his knee. His gaze—intense, suspicious—never leaves Heinz.
"I'm going to ask you one more time, Heinz," he says, voice low and controlled. "What are you hiding?"
Heinz, seated behind his desk, continues flipping through a battered, leather-bound book. His black hair falls over his face, obscuring any expression Dave might read. The tip of his pen scratches across the paper in precise movements, ignoring the question entirely.
Dave growls, stands, and crosses the room in two strides. He plants both hands on the desk and leans in.
"Why?" he presses. "Why offer to help me? Why try so hard to understand what happened to me? You invite me into your home, you pay for a hostel, you explain what you think happened… but you don't trust me. I can feel it. I smell it."
Heinz finally looks up. His green eyes lock onto Dave's. The pen slips from his fingers and lands softly on the open pages of the book.
"It's not that I don't trust you," he says. "It's that there are things you wouldn't understand."
"Try me," Dave says with a crooked smirk. "You might be surprised."
A thick silence falls between them. The wall clock ticks audibly, each second magnified by the tension hanging in the air. Heinz clasps his hands in front of his mouth, elbows resting on the desk, studying Dave like he's calculating how much truth to spill.
"You want to know why I don't trust you?" he murmurs at last.
"Of course."
"Because you… remind me too much of someone."
Dave frowns, confused.
"Who?"
Heinz tilts his head, and his gaze darkens. Slowly, deliberately, he rises and steps around the desk. His movements are measured, soundless, until he's standing directly in front of Dave. There's something in his stance, in the slight curve of his lips, that sends a shiver down Dave's spine.
"Someone who doesn't belong in this world," Heinz says softly. "Someone… like me."
The words hit like a lightning strike. Dave blinks, stunned, his mind struggling to fit the pieces together.
"You're… not from this dimension?"
"No." The word hangs in the air, heavy with implication. "And that should worry you."
Dave narrows his eyes, searching his face for any sign of deception. But Heinz is a perfect mask.
"Why tell me now?"
"Because you wanted answers." Heinz smiles faintly, but his gaze remains unreadable. "And because… I wanted to see how you'd react."
Dave lets out a dry, disbelieving laugh.
"You enjoy messing with me?"
"This isn't a game, Dave…" Heinz leans in, whispering, "It's a warning."
"A warning about what?"
Heinz doesn't answer. His breath—warm, with a faint scent of coffee and rain—brushes against Dave's skin. The hunter shudders. There's something disquietingly alluring in this closeness, in the weight of that revelation. A danger wrapped in velvet.
"Tomorrow, we continue the investigation," Heinz says at last, stepping away. "For now, rest. You'll need it."
Dave stays frozen, fists clenched, jaw tight, watching him retreat. Every step Heinz takes is precise, silent, almost ghostlike—as if he floats rather than walks. That feline elegance, that perfect blend of arrogance and grace, makes it impossible to look away.
Heinz's dark coat sways behind him like a shadow unwilling to part from its owner. His shoulders are squared, his posture flawless, and there's the faintest tilt of his head—so subtle it might be imagined—that suggests he knows exactly what he's leaving in his wake… and that he's enjoying it.
Dave exhales slowly, trying to convince himself that everything Heinz has said—those sharp words still echoing in his mind—are nothing but a meticulously calculated strategy to throw him off. A mind game. A slow-acting poison Heinz administers with surgical precision. Nothing more. Nothing less.
But no matter how much he wants to believe that, there's something he can't ignore. He feels it in the air, like a static charge crawling across his skin and racing through his veins. A dark magnetism. Dangerous… seductive. A pull that shouldn't exist, yet slips into him like an irresistible whisper.
That unfathomable mystery that is Heinz—that blend of danger, intellect, and veiled desire—draws him in with a force Dave can't, and maybe doesn't want to, resist.
As Heinz vanishes into the shadows, Dave is left alone with his thoughts, caught between the fear of what this man might do to him… and the inescapable longing to draw even closer.