He reached out, his fingers hovering just inches from her jawline before he pulled back to tuck his hands casually into his pockets.

“So, what's the play? You didn't come back to Mystic Falls just to compliment my kill count. You want something. You always want something.”

“As for my ferocious side, don't flatter yourself by thinking you're the inspiration. I just stopped caring about the rules. It turns out that being the villain is much more liberating than being the lovesick lapdog you remember.”

+

He chuckled at her mention of the tomb, the sound dry and devoid of any real humor. The realization that he had spent decades obsessing over a ghost while she was out playing games had been a bitter pill to swallow, but he had washed it down with enough blood and bourbon to numb the taste.

+

He tilted his head, studying her face as if she were a mild curiosity rather than the woman who had ruined his life.

“Disappointed? No. I’d say it is more of a mild annoyance. Like a flea that just won't stop biting.”

+

“You always did have a flair for the dramatic, Katherine. And a deluded sense of your own importance,” he replied. His voice was a smooth, dangerous velvet.

He took a step toward her, closing the gap until he was well within her personal space. +

That familiar, maddening scent of her perfume hit him like a physical blow, dragging up a century of pathetic pining that he had finally started to bury.

He let a slow, crooked smirk spread across his face, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. Those icy blue depths remained guarded and sharp.

+

Damon didn't miss a beat. He didn't even flinch as she drew closer. Instead, he leaned back against the cool metal of his car, crossing his arms over his chest with a practiced air of indifference. +

“Mhm. So, who shall we start causing chaos against? Tell me it's Bus Boy.”

He is hoping that's her answer.

“Oh you most definitely are more than just my annoying girl. You're also my favourite girl. Now what say you, shall we go cause some chaos?”