warm tear tracked down her cheek as she smiled shakily and said, “Hello, evil overlord.” The Villain did not cry; she knew this. But she also knew that for the rest of her life, if she got to grow old, wasting away in a bed, recounting her adventures of working for the darkest figure in the land, she would swear to herself, even then, that she saw The Villain’s black eyes glisten. His words finally came on the turn of his lips that, if stretched up any further, she knew would reveal…one singular dimple. “Hello, little tornado.”
