I Use the Term "Missionary" Loosely

Thaddeus paused after a few minutes, hearing footsteps behind him; he turned around slowly.

"Freak, izzat you?" he called.

Faust waved at him, smiling toothily.

"Yes."

"Go the fuck away!!" he shouting irritably, reaching for his gun. "You gave me the money already--I can just blow your fucking brains out your arse and be done with it."

He smiled, amused.

"Is there any reason you don't like me?"

"Why would I like some queer meth-head?" he asked bluntly. "You give me the fucking creeps."

"I might be strange indeed, but I'm not into illegal drugs." He corrected.

"Yeah, I doubt it--and i don't give a rat's ass either way. Just leave me alone." He fired a warning shot several feet to Fausts's left. "I will shoot."

He smiled at him.

"The average person is only about 7% accurate when it comes to firing a gun." He informed Thaddeus. "Not that I want you to disprove that claim."

"I fucking will," he spat falsely. "You don't want to mess with me--ya got your merchandise, so fuck off."

"No, I think I'll follow you." He said nonchalantly. "I was quite engrossed in my experiment, but you seem much more interesting."

He shot again, this time a little closer.

"Back off."

Faust chuckled.

"Quite interesting indeed. You should tell me your name."

"...Thaddeus," he growled after a moment; what could it hurt?

"Thaddeus." He repeated, smiling again. "I like it!"

"...What's yours?" he asked hesitantly. "A name fer a name."

"Faust Marlowe." He said cheerily. "Quite a good name, I think."

"...Will you leave now?" he snapped irritably. "I have places to be."

"Oh, I have to be in those same places." He decided. "So, just let me follow you."

"You don't even know where I'm going!!" he barked irritably.

"No, but I know that you'll be there, which makes me want to be there, too." He explained.

He gave Faust the finger, firing another bullet.

"Go home, you fucker!"

"Will you be there?" He smiled wider. "I'd like that, you know. I could have so much fun with you~"

"...Sure," he said, completely weirded out. "Just...go and I'll meet you there."

"But you got rid of my business card; how can you possibly know where I live?" He asked, frowning. "Besides, if you're not being serious, I'll have to find you again."

"...Just give me another business card, then, and I'll meet you there," he lied; the sooner he got rid of this creep, the better.