“Is there a reason why they should be stopped?”
           “Isn’t it obvious?”  The air hung with a brief, shivering silence, “They’re dangerous.”
           The rustling of paper and shuffling of footsteps prompted Irene out of her thoughts.  She smiled as one of her professors complimented her on her presentation and theories.  He continued to comment on her project, and so she took the moment to study him.  He was a stout man with a face that was seldom any color but red.  There was a damp shadow under his arm that didn’t seem to be a trick of the light.  Irene grimaced to herself before bidding goodbye.
           “Thank you, sir,” she only then realized how gruff her voice sounded, “I’ll be going now.  Have a wonderful evening.”
           He beamed, “My, my, you are a charming one, Ms. Bae.”
           So I’ve heard.  “Thank you, sir.”
           She heaved a breath as soon as she left the building and faced the London-grey sky.  The time broadcasted on the building opposite her caught her attention.  She still had time for dinner. Irene released a quick airy laugh as she pulled out her phone to make plans with whoever was free.  Perhaps Seulgi?
           As soon as she placed her cell phone back into her coat pocket, a chill ran down her spine at the sound of a small voice. Though it didn’t come as much of a surprise.
           “So there is a reason why we should be stopped?”
           “Weren’t you listening to my presentation?”  Irene’s smile faltered, “You were there.  I know you were.”
           A shadow cast over her own until the familiar figure of her roommate came into view.  She was a stunning woman, with features that whisked breaths and a figure that captivated.  Her hair was red now, along with the lipstick she now donned.  Her eyes were still the same though—empty and void of color.  They were eerily dark, yet uncannily beautiful.  Irene’s lips pressed into a thin line at the sight of the reappearing companion.
           Irene couldn’t tell if the latter had heard her; but that seemed unlikely, because she seemed to hear everything Irene had to say.   She never need to say it any louder.  Making it obvious that they were communicating in public only got Irene some strange stares from bypassers.  Yet no matter how many times Irene turned back to Wendy, just to prove her existence, she just smiled like there was a secret only she knew.  There, she held that annoying grin—Irene hated that stupid smile.
           “Good evening, Wendy.”
           Wendy chose to ignore the malice in Irene’s tone as she waved her hand by her head.  They both were used to the routine.  Irene would be alone for a few moments at a time before Wendy came along and disrupted that loneliness.  At first, Irene was polite—charming and extremely charismatic.  However as time went on, Wendy’s presence became unsettling, and to a point, troubling.  They shared a flat in the heart of London.  Wendy rarely left the apartment unless Irene announced her leave first, and for all of Irene’s knowledge, Wendy didn’t have a job.
           “You never answered my question, Irene.”
           Irene stopped in her tracks for a moment and eyed the girl who had taken a few more steps before looking back with those soulless eyes.  There was no form of harshness in her body language, none at all.  Wendy was one who gave off a very easy-going and relaxed aura.  She had never seen the redhead upset or angry.  It was as if everything seemed to amuse her.
           “Psychopaths, like you, are dangerous,” Irene muttered.  No matter how low the volume, Wendy always heard.
           Wendy grinned before snatching Irene’s hand and dragging her along, “Like me?  I’m sure I’m not the only one, Irene.”
           Wendy’s language confused Irene more often than not.  Perhaps it was the way she paused in her sentences… or maybe it was the vagueness each word seemed to hold.  She didn’t speak to anyone else either: Wendy would only respond to Irene.  It drove her to her wit’s end, but Irene got used to Wendy’s weirdness.  They shared an interest though (which seemed to be one of the only things Irene enjoyed talking to Wendy about): behavioral disorders and crimes.
           Irene enjoyed analyzing crimes: breaking down everything until she understood it all.  The motive, methods used, state of mind, victim, offender, and weapons, you name it!  Irene was fascinated.  Wendy on the other hand, understood reasoning; why the crime was committed in the first place.  In discussions, Irene never failed to get the idea that she and Wendy seemed to complete each other.  Irene relished in pride when the puzzle was complete whereas Wendy cackled in delight at the thrill squirming through her veins.  Irene had a small feeling that one day, the two would be discussing the dead body on the news that Wendy would have put there.
           It occurred to Irene not too long ago that Wendy showcased a few psychopathic tendencies, and when she carefully mentioned it, Wendy simply laughed to herself.  Even if Wendy was a psychopath (at the least, the girl is a sociopath) Irene knew she would do nothing to her.  They had a relationship full of mind games and the constant treading on a threat that would never get to the point of murder.
           “I have a date, Wendy,” Irene huffed at the entrance of the restaurant, “go home.”
           Wendy bounced on her heels, “Fine.  I hear there’s another murder.  Shall we discuss it at home?”
           Irene glanced warily at Wendy’s profile and saw the girl’s eyes sparking.  She didn’t know how she didn’t see it before. “Of course.”
           And in the blink of an eye, Wendy was gone.

           “That’s two murders this week in the same part of town,” Irene groaned as she watched the news, with Wendy, who wore a smug smirk.  Irene caught that.
           Wendy clicked her tongue as she took a seat next to Irene, “Before you ask, it wasn’t me.  I can’t kill anyone.”
           “Why should I believe you?”
           “Well, why would I tell you anyway?”
           Irene rolled her eyes back to the television as she placed her legs in Wendy’s lap.  Wendy’s usefulness as a footrest was the only thing that kept Irene from kicking her out of their flat.  They listened to the details for a while before the channel switched stories.  Two murders in the same part of town, one by disembodiment and the other shot.  The fact that the criminal still had not been caught irritated Irene only the slightest.  Actually, it excited her.
           Wendy craned her neck to take in Irene’s expression for a few moments, “What do you think about it?”