It took only a moment, only a smile and he was hers. Dear sweet, trusting Daigan. He had been all too eager to come to dinner, all too happy to lend his company in more comfortable setting than the tavern. How long had it been since he was last shown kindness? How long since he had spent an eve simply sitting in a warm and private home speaking to a woman with no expectations? How long since he had last had such a well-prepared hot meal?
The poison had been easy to administer. With the maid out for the night, it had been left to Jenn to serve the drinks and plate up the food. It was only right, after all, if the guest was shown true hospitality. He had gone through to the sitting room, as invited, and she had simply slipped the toxin into his drink as she poured it. He had never suspected a thing, and why would he? The liquid itself was clear, tasteless and odourless, but just to be certain she had served the juice of mixed fruits.
Even when he had started to feel the effects, he had trusted in her. He had allowed her to help him up the stairs, into one of the spare bedrooms and lay himself down comfortably to rest, never thinking for a moment that this one may last for far longer than he was accustomed to.
She tilted her head to the side, smiling softly even as her calculating gaze fell down upon his silent form. He looked so peaceful, he lay so still. She reached out one slim, fine hand to touch her fingers to his neck; it always paid to be certain that all was as it should be. His skin was cold now, waxen and just a little taut. No pulse beat beneath her fingertips and as she laid an ear to his lips she felt no breath upon her cheek. Perfect.
How well he had served her, this lonely little man. How much good he had done for her these past weeks. He had bought her drinks, offered a shoulder to cry upon, comforted her when needed. He had made her smile again, made her laugh and given her so much useful information on others. He had taken care of the man who had dared assault her some nights ago, permanently ensuring that it would not happen again. It was almost a shame to do this to him. Almost, but not quite. He had served her well, indeed, but she was not finished with him yet.
How many times had she done this now? How many times had she decieved someone in such a manner? At only twenty-three, she had a long history of it, a long list of crimes attributed to a name she would never tell. She had long since lost count of how many games she had played, how many people she had fooled, how many lives she had ended in one manner or another. She was not foolish enough to think that stealing bread from peoples mouths and money from their pockets was a harmless act; she knew that true devastation lay in the little things, just like true knowledge lay in the tiniest of details.
Anyone else might regret it. Anyone else might look back and feel shame or guilt for even a small portion of the things that Jenn had done over the course of her short life, but she did not. Regret was for lesser people, guilt for the weak of mind and shame for the blind. Jenn looked back on it and smiled, recalling it all with fondness.
Poison was not her favoured method. She found it too clean, too easy, too impersonal. Certainly, she had to get close to a person to poison them but there was simply no fun in it. Where was the joy in ending a life with a drink? Where was the grace of the dance, the stimulation of whirling thoughts and racing hearts?
Jenn patted his cheek before turning away. Exiting the room, she paused only long enough to lock the door behind her. The last thing she needed was the maid stumbling across this. That woman had a consicence, after all.
