"If I look like I've shown up in your redtube feed, you have some<span style="font-style: italic">really</span>questionable fetishes," Ian mused. Kian's voice dropped a few octaves into a tone more somber than Ian had heard it thus far, and he had to look up to make sure that there wasn't some sarcastic remark hidden somewhere. He pushed the plate and water across the table the furthest away he could get them without having to risk his floor wearing stroganoff, and brought his hands to rest in his lap as he matched Kian's stare.<br/><br/>Why was he here? He'd heard that question so many times that it would make sense at this point to just script out some form of generic response. His answers generally varied pretty greatly from person to person, because the reasons he actually<span style="font-style: italic">took</span>them differed from person to person. They each had some particular quality about them that Ian found himself fond of.  With Lydia, he'd been amused by the way she had tried to flirt with him through alcohol-induced slur at one of the rare occasions he visited a bar. He'd taken Jack because of his exceptional devotion to his religion, and Ian wanted to become the only God he knew. And Thomas... With Thomas, he just selfishly wanted to break what once was a very passionate spirit. And in that endeavor, he succeeded, but that was digressing.<br/><br/>With Kian, though, there was no rhyme or reason to taking him. He hadn't stood out at all. He was more than average, actually, almost to the point of being a modern cliche. Depressed twenty-something works at a hipster coffee joint and sees a psychiatrist to whine about problems that were likely if not definitely psychosomatic. If Ian had just tuned out into his own little world as he usually did when he grabbed coffee, he would never have been able to make a connection when Kian walked through his door later that same day. Things like that were the reason he found himself contemplating the existence of a God for the second time today, or at least some other sort of divinity, that had been pulling strings in his favor.<br/><br/>Ian inhaled, his chest rising exponentially - not enough to fill a C cup, sorry Kian - as he contemplated on how best to word his conclusion. How could he properly convey exactly why he had kidnapped Kian, or Lydia, or Thomas or Jack or the rest of them? How could one so eloquently put it in such a clean and precise manner that would explain the gist of it? How does one frame it so indicatively, all the while maintaining that sense of professionalism he so closely kept?<br/><br/>"It was convenient." Yes, Ian. Professional<span style="font-style: italic">and</span>eloquent. Why he'd never picked up orating was beyond him. An airy laugh escaped him, but he waved it away to elaborate. "I could get existential with you, Kian, I really could. Explain to you on the absolute basest of levels why it is that I do the things that I do. But I'll spare you the finer details." His hands slid back behind him and he rested his weight on his arms and letting one leg fall off to dangle loosely off the table. "But what it boils down to is convenience and happenstance. You<span style="font-style: italic">happened</span>to wait on me at the coffee shop, you<span style="font-style: italic">happened</span>to check in with me later at Saar, and I<span style="font-style: italic">happened</span>to memorize your information." He offered an exaggerated shrug, or as exaggerated as he could manage when he was putting the entirety of his weight on his arms. "Simple as that.<br/><br/>"However," he went on, pushing himself to slide off of his perch and moving to stand face to face with Kian. "You're funny. I like that about you." He stopped, shook his head. "That's not going to get you anywhere good, though. You see, if I let you continue to talk back to me, how does that make me look? Look at these people. They're at a very impressionable time in their lives, and if they see you talking back to me, they're going to think that they can do it, too." Whatever remained of his ever-static smile had faded. The corner of his mouth just barely twitched upward when he spoke. "I'm going to start taking teeth, Kian, and it's not going to be pretty. I'm not a dentist, there is no anesthetic. I want you to think very carefully about how you speak to me from this point on. Do you understand?"