"Um, did you just kill that guy?"

"You mean the guy on the ground?" he asked, putting his sword away.

"Yes.  That one."

"Looks like it," he said, kicking the body with the toe of his boot.  "He's not moving."

"He doesn't have a head."

"That might be part of his problem," he snickered.

"Are you going to kill me too?"

"Do you want me to?"

"No, but I know what you look like."

"How about now?" he laughed.

"You have a different face," she gasped.  "How did you do that?"

"I'm not from around here."

"What did that guy do that was so bad?" she asked, looking at the body that was shriveling up in front of her.  "Why is he, you know, getting smaller and starting to disappear?"

"He's not from around here either."

"Where are you from?"

He stared at her for a minute.  "It's complicated," he sighed.  "Things like this are so much easier if no one sees it happen."

"Are you a bounty hunter, or just a hit person?"

"Wow, politically correct."

"I try," she said, smiling.  "You look like one of our cops all geared up in their riot outfits to face people holding flowers.  I hope that's not an insult, since I'm sure your gear is a lot...different."

"I'm not insulted," he said, suddenly wearing jeans and a ratty Aerosmith t-shirt.  "But yes, my gear is a lot...different.  I'm a lot different."

"Do you like pizza?" she asked.

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Probably not, but who cares."

He nodded.  "Are you asking me out?"

"I think so," she said.

"I just killed someone in front of you.  You should be afraid."

"You're not the scariest thing I've ever seen."

"What have you seen?"

"Not important," she said.

"If I go with you, are you going to want to know all about me?"

"Of course."

He ran his hands through his shaggy blond hair.  "I figured."

"Can you tell me anything?"

"I can tell you everything.  Who would believe you if you told anyone?"

"Good point," she said, taking his hand.

"Now that that's settled," he said.  "Let's go.  I'm starving."