He was a serial killer, actually. The police in both Seattle and York were looking into what he'd done. Saerian just laughed, a good-natured laugh he stole from Jack.
"I only hoard back issues of Structure & Design," he said, with a lift of his eyebrow. "In big piles. Huge fire hazard."
He continued to enjoy the cigarette, mulling over what to say to her, smoke curling into the dark air.
"Look, I'm not trying to be the creepy guy," he said. And it was not a lie. "I really just get the impression that you're worth knowing." His eyes shone in the darkness. She wasn't going to tell him he was wrong about that.