That terrible, frog-like face… That dreadful, smoky scent… It was true that I absolutely loathed him to an inexplicable degree, and even to the point that he did not know of my hatred. I covered it with fake anticipation and plastic smiles. And as I watched Mr. Thomason converse among the scholars and researchers, I felt an odd surge of hatred unknowingly mixed with confusion. As he spoke with them, pleasantly shaking their hands and laughing modestly, I could sense a sort of weakness and terrible loneliness hiding just behind the surface and leaving an all too familiar fake outlook within the creases of his face. Unfortunately, nobody else seemed to notice this. I almost felt sympathetic for the forlorn man.
“Hello, sir!” he said to me good-naturedly. I quickly smiled, bowing deeply and shaking his hand. Curse this man for interrupting my thoughts! “You seemed alone over here, so I thought I’d talk with you. Ah, but may I ask you something?”
“Of course, Mr. Thomason.”
“Would you join us for dinner?” Almost immediately, flashes of images containing how this dinner could come to my advantage swept over me. Many thoughts of golden goblets and red wine, silverware and stained carpet. So without another thought, I nodded at him.
“I would love to. Might I be able to help make the food?” Mr. Thomason laughed flippantly, which looked a bit unusual with a man of his corpulence.
“You are such a gentleman!” And without another word, naïve Mr. Thomason led me into the kitchen where the cooks and bakers quickly chopped a variety of foods and dropped them into large pots. The ceiling was covered in bright lights, pots and spoons and different sizes of cooking utensils hanging from the rafters. The tables on which these people cooked and the ovens that they used were scattered carelessly about the room, having no sort of organization within their pattern of arrangement. I found it too look slightly cluttered and irregular, but found no reason to press the matter against Mr. Thomason. The fifty or so people who worked in the mess hall dressed the same and seemed to work in some sort of beat and synchronization, an almost hypnotic noise wafting about the room as the knives hit the cutting-boards and as the soups were stirred. The scent that floated through every corner could cause a weak man to swoon; it was strong with fresh vegetables, pastries and different sorts of cheese. I could almost taste it in my mouth as I drew in a deep breath. After a while of taking it all in, he gave me a hard pat on the back before leaving, mumbling something about what a good man I was.

I immediately walked to where I had seen some amount of people pouring liquid into assorted goblets. Looking at all of the cups in turn, I found the one that belonged to Mr. Thomason. It was a shining gold and was plated with red jewels and diamonds and had perfectly cut insignias on the neck. In a way, it looked almost like an oddly cut weapon with all of its attention to detail and little jewels thrown in. It stood out considerably compared to the other goblets. I had noticed that the wine had already been poured into all of them. Without drawing any attention, I brought a small vial out of my cloak. I placed the very edge of it on the rim of the golden goblet, letting a couple globules drop into the wine. It plumed into a great ball of liquid, stringing onto the circular sides of the goblet. Taking a nearby skewer off the counter closest to me, I stirred the substance quickly and caused it to mix with perfect harmony. I had almost half-expected the brew to explode or cause some sort of complication. But it remained perfectly staid, and this I was thankful for.

The dinner was ready to serve and the platters were being taken out of the kitchen, the chefs all walking in harmony to each table, setting the plates down and lifting the lids, pouring the soups and placing the wine. I smirked, sitting politely down next to Mr. Thomason’s daughter, Amelia. Her smooth, chaste face held a soft smile as she looked at me and nodded, as if to acknowledge me. I only nodded slightly back, silent and unflinching as everybody looked at each other and started tasteful conversation. We shared no more glances and no more speech as I looked around the room, noticing red curtains hanging over the windows. The room had high, paper-white ceilings with pomegranate-colored wainscoting. The carpet was a cherry color and the chairs and tables were a rich, dark wood. Chandeliers and candles provided atmospheric lighting as everybody began to feast on their meals. I, on the other hand, only sat quietly, as none of the food pleased me.

I turned my eyes to Mr. Thomason, unblinking as he took a hold of his goblet. Without thinking, a sickeningly terrible smirk hid itself behind my lips as he raised it to his mouth, taking a long sip. I stifled my laughter, taking a deep breath and concealing as many emotions as I could. Amelia looked at me, scrutinizing my every detail carefully.
“Is something the matter?” she asked. I was silent, turning my head slowly to her father. And all at once, the noises became a loud clatter.
The terrible coughing and hacking was heard from the end of the table. They all turned to look at Mr. Thomason as he choked on his wine. Everybody flew into a state of panic, of few of them standing up and physically helping him. I simply sat there, unfazed and uncaring as I watched the man, not a flicker of emotion passing by me. His face turned a bright blue and his hands began to tremble as he lifted them to his throat. Amelia flew out of her seat, running towards him and doing whatever she could to help. But within a span of thirty seconds, Mr. Thomason was dead on the floor. Everybody looked shocked. I lifted myself onto the top of the table, laughing manically.
“Do you not see?” I yelled, pointing at him. “I have freed the man of his depression! He was lonely! He was dejected! He didn’t know what to do! Why allow this man to suffer when you could free him?” I cackled once more, taking the golden goblet and holding it above my head. “See what two simple drops of poison can do to an ordinary, weak man?” I looked once more at Mr. Thomason, laughing quietly to myself and draining the goblet, allowing the poisoned wine to pour over me. “Release me of my sins, O evil poison! If I am to be condemned, then take me!” And as I finished my speech, I fell to the ground on top of Mr. Thomason, the poison dribbling down my throat.