[ WP ] `` What does n't kill me has made a tactical error . ''

Her eyes rested on his back, slowly traveling along the patchwork of brutal scars that covered both sides of his torso, before he hid himself away with his shirt. There had been several that had caught her eye, distinctively bizarre in context. She rolled onto her side as he pushed himself up, stretching his arms as he stood. 
 
 `` What happened to you?'' 
 
 `` Well, we had drinks...'' 
 
 `` I mean the scars. You have so many.'' 
 
 `` Hah. You of all people know how I spend my nights, Anne. My *other* nights, at least.'' 
 
 `` Even with the things you can do? How can anything happen to you?'' 
 
 `` When you pull your punches, you have to accept you're going to have to take a few punches in return. This is... some really weird morning after talk, y'know? You want some eggs, or something? I'll go make us some breakfast.'' 
 
 Smiling sedately, the man winked at her and headed out of the room. He walked without touching anything, just proving her theory that he could see, despite the evidence. As charming as he could be, his mysteries were compounding on themselves, and her investigative instincts were flaring again. 
 
 Hesitating, she got to her feet with only the sheet around her, before snagging one of his shirts hanging on a nearby chair. She wanted to appear attractive and coy, alluring enough to maybe distract him and learn something useful. Plus, she wanted to be dressed enough to be confident in walking around his apartment, and not only because her stomach was telling her to go check up on his offer of breakfast. His office was just down the hall, she had noted its location the night before, and the thought of getting a sneak peek into the private work area of the city's most secretive citizen was too much to pass up. 
 
 Padding out into the hallway, she peered up and down, before hearing pans rattling in the kitchen to confirm his location. Walking bare feet on the wood floors made her approach silent, and she found the oaken door to the office closed. Grasping the handle tightly, she gave it a controlled turn to try and avoid any clicking, managing only a slight scrape as the door swung inwards on well-balanced hinges. 
 
 The office was less exciting than she might have hoped, at a glance. Tall bookshelves lined the walls, and she noted they were primarily stacked with textbooks from a huge number of disciplines. The only two breaks in shelving was a broad, heavy writing desk laden with stationery, and, oddly, a closed doorway, built into the wall adjacent to the desk. Running through what she could remember of the apartment, that should have been a very strange place to have a doorway, and she could n't guess what might be on the other side. 
 
 But, in a rash decision, she decided to find out. She had an idea of who this man was, and she had an idea of how he played at life. This would be a risk, but she doubted he would do anything against her if he found out she peeked. The worst things she could imagine would only be her sign to get clear of the apartment as soon as possible; potentially grisly scenes did n't ward her off, nor slaves or a drug lab. She had covered some of the worst humanity had to offer in her career already. 
 
 Getting to the door, she again grasped the handle tightly to open it as quietly as possible. Her heart was thudding in her chest, making her feel like a child investigating playground drama again. In one, smooth motion, she pulled the door wide. 
 
 Blinking in surprise, her brow furrowed in puzzlement. She was looking down a hallway, but a much, much longer hallway than could have physically been in the apartment. There were doors all along the walls, and she could see an intersection where the hallway terminated some distance away. The walls were green wallpaper with white baseboards, and there were heavy, wrought lamps with dimly glowing electric bulbs outside every few doors. A slight gust of wind washed around her, bringing with it a thicker humidity than was already hanging in the oppressive summer air, and a distinct smell of oceanic salt. 
 
 `` What on Earth...'' she breathed to herself. 
 
 `` Not quite,'' a voice remarked mildly behind her, making her jump and slam the door shut in panic. 
 
 The man was leaning against the entrance to the office, holding a bowl of sliced apples. He was smiling, she was relieved to see, a small, relaxed sort of smile like a parent catching a child doing something naughty. 
 
 `` Breakfast is almost ready. Come along when you want. But uh, do n't open that door again. Okay?'' 
 
 ``... Okay. Are you going to tell me what I just saw? Some sort of mirror trick? These apples are delicious.'' 
 
 `` Ah, the best magicians never reveal their secrets, do n't you know?'' 
 
 `` Is that what you are, a magician?'' 
 
 `` I'm a lot of things. I have to check the omlettes, go ahead and take a seat in the kitchen.'' 
 
 A few minutes passed while she sat patiently on the padded dining chair before he returned with two plates of steaming food. Graciously smiling as he set the plate and some utensils down in front of her, she quickly took a slice of the delicious-smelling egg dish as he poured her a cup of coffee. 
 
 `` Tomato, cheese, and chives?'' 
 
 `` And some paprika.'' 
 
 `` I figured you would be more of a ham and bacon kind of guy.'' 
 
 `` Vegetarian, actually. I ca n't eat meat.'' 
 
 `` Ca n't or do n't?'' 
 
 `` Ca n't. Makes me sick.'' 
 
 `` All meat?'' 
 
 `` All meat.'' 
 
 `` Huh. That's... strange, coming from you, if you do n't mind me saying. This is delicious, by the way. Where'd you learn to cook?'' 
 
 `` Self-taught. It's a good routine to start the morning, I've found. Is my home life throwing you off?'' 
 
 `` Well, I just did see an impossible doorway, and after the things you've already shown me, I'm starting to doubt it was mirrors.'' 
 
 `` Good. Keep that skepticism alive. Your eyes are only one source of evidence, there are plenty of other considerations.'' 
 
 `` Yeah. Like, that could have been a projector, or a screen. With a wind machine. And some scented candles. And a humidifier. And last night, we were just using wires, and you definitely did n't Lois Lane me.'' 
 
 `` Keep the dream alive.'' 
 
 ``... You're maddening sometimes, you know that?'' 
 
 `` I figured that's why you're here in the first place.'' 
 
 `` Irre*pressible. *'' Her grin was threatening to reach her ears, so she quickly hid it behind her mug. Despite her reasons for investigating him at all, there was something about him that made her stomach wiggle. The fact that making a killer breakfast was on his still-growing list of abilities was n't helping. 
 
 `` So are you going to talk about your scars if I ask?'' 
 
 `` Depends on what you want to know about them.'' 
 
 ``... Alright, how about, how did you get them?'' 
 
 `` Well, not *all at once. * That's quite a few stories to tell there.'' 
 
 `` Then, how about the ones on your chest?'' 
 
 `` More specific.'' 
 
 `` The long ones.'' 
 
 He continued to stare. 
 
 `` The ones that look like a Y-incision from an autopsy,'' she finally said in a rush, slightly irked she had to reveal her reason for interest. 
 
 `` Ah. *Those. *'' 
 
 `` Because, well, you have others, too, on your arms and legs...'' 
 
 `` Around my scalp, too. Used to have them on my neck, but the new ones kind of wiped those out.'' 
 
 ``... So... How did you get them? They all looked about the same age.'' 
 
 The man was silent for a long period, his expression contemplative as he took a sip of coffee. The terrible scarring around his eyes stood out in the morning light, highlighting the way his grey, dead eyes nonetheless would swivel and point. 
 
 `` Let's just say... Some people, a long time ago, found out that what does n't kill me... has made a tactical error.'' 

