He had practiced it, the way he moved his head, the slow easy smile, the way he brushed his fringe aside with feigned nervousness.
He was delicious and men and women alike flocked to him and he enticed them closer, like a predator playing lame.
He knew that they wanted him and he eased their reluctance, their misgivings, drew them in. And even as he dropped his eyes or staged a self-conscious laugh, his teeth flashed white in the darkness and his lips curved in a secret smile.
He gently herded their reactions, nudging and tugging until he had them. And even when they were ensnared, he let them maintain the illusion that they were leading as he controlled their every move.
He never played in the same place twice, though sometimes he would pass through to see the confused and worried glances his previous toys would throw him, wondering whether it was him or them, convinced that he had revealed to them something dark and raw inside themselves. And he would laugh silently and demurely look away before moving on to find a new haunt, a fresh toy, to open them up and take them apart and leave them to put themselves back together again as best as they could, and to radiate out into the world like ripples from his epicentre, shaking all they touched.