The cork blackened on the glowing red burner, and Webster carefully lifted it from the heat, blowing away the smoke. He smiled shyly at Speirs, who sat before him, shirtless and ready.
Webster rubbed his fingers against the burnt cork, then leaned forward and began to draw long, sooty lines on Ron’s cheek with his fingers. Three stripes on each side of his face, and now, a single line down the bridge of his nose.
Webster leaned back and studied his work. Speirs gazed at him, his face no longer hidden by its human mask, and smiled a killer’s smile.
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