Culler kept a tidy house. Clean lines and a minimalist amount of furniture mixed with a gritter city tone. His skin was minimalist too - the pretty complexion was given depth by the dark brows and the light brown, almost orange eyes. It was easy for the sharp features to catch attention and keep it. He was a pretty, long thing, the kind that snared and talked you into debauchery, and sold the memory back to you as your own deed. Dark lips to warn anyone from getting close, but people like that fearful tinge when it hits their hearts. It makes them remember they want to live, and not just survive.<br/><br/>Emily had. She'd been here, in the couch where he sat, looking through old work on his new computer. She'd been impressed by what he did, and how easily he could afford to live her by himself. He lead a simple life because he could do complicated things for people who payed. Who wouldn't want to sit next to an artist with money on the bank, especially when he was the angular kind of handsome they'd been taught to adore by anything with a vocabulary in pictures.<br/><br/>Today he wore his dark hair tied back. It was barely long enough, which made the formation of his strands messy, dramatic. Intriguing. And his brand of attractive could stand for the exposure. He was sitting in black, t-shirt still warm from the jacket he'd shed over the arm of the couch, and black jeans holding on to his hips like a rejected, desperate lover. A storm wrapped in expensive rags. He was about to draw the last line on a commission when his door announced a visitor.<br/><br/>He opened to the ghost of Emily, and immediately remembered all the girl's fighting. Independent girl, life of the party and center of the bar. She hadn't been so resistant, and kissed him goodnight exactly where her current likeness stood, but he'd thrown out his chain of charms and convinced her it was impolite not come in. He'd pay for the taxi to wait. She'd been grinning, making the mistake of crossing his threshold.<br/><br/>Culler kept ignorance in his haunting eyes and looked this visitor over as though she was a completely new person, like he'd never seen her color of eye in combination with that hair before.<br/><br/>"Yeah?" he asked and opened the door wider, crossing his arms as the scent of Emily ran back to him. She'd been stronger than she looked, but not strong enough to make a difference. He'd still turned and bent her until she had to moan, despite her objections. Already he was wondering what this one would sound like, and if she'd feel the same if he snared her too. It was a little like Emily leaving a present on his doorstep, wasn't it? Thanking him for giving her a redefining experience. Maybe it was an anniversary gift. "You want something drawn out? Written? What are you here for?" Vengeance, closure, information? She'd not brought anyone with her, which made her either daft, or as confident as Emily. He could have fun with either.<br/><br/>Culler started walking back into his house, eager to see the girl where Emily had sat. "Close the door after yourself." And invitation into her sister's nightmare by something beautiful. Talia should have known the start of a filthy tale when she saw it.