You were... Unusual, yes. He hadn't doubted that, but he did doubt his abilities to charm her. It's never been a problem for him before, never something that needed a resolve, so he obviously didn't have a clue on how to deal with it. Every time Jim Moriarty wanted a woman, all he had to do was say a few simple words, and his natural charisma would do the rest. But when it came to you, it was a Penrose Triangle, just like the one he'd tried to make when he was eight. He was doing everything right, and it was working, but still, you kept twisting out of his reach. It was an infinite cycle, and worse yet, it was impossible. This issue he was suddenly having was complicated and it perplexed him to an amount he didn't even know if he could calculate. He could see the dilation in your pupils, could feel your heartbeat increasing, yet you didn't throw a shred of attention that anyone could consider 'loving' his way. You'd kissed him, but it'd felt empty. Not on his side, of course. On his side it was sweltering passion, threatening to burn your lips. But, despite how you reacted to his touch, the way you kissed him was, and felt, completely meaningless. The pieces weren't aligning, hell, some of them felt less like puzzle pieces, and more like red herrings to throw him off track. It was both annoying and intriguing, but none of that mattered. What was enticing, was you. Not because you were this complex enigma, but because of how you were. The way you spoke, how your eyes moved around like you were scouring and scanning for a single detail. You were completely intoxicating, and the definition of everything he'd ever wanted. He could remember each and every moment of you like it'd been recorded. But how could one record the floating feeling of you just being in the room? No one ever could, but the sensation hung over, slowly withering away while he protested. You were entranced by him, you had to be. But did it even compare to the overall need he had to keep you near him; probably not. He could swear you'd done it on purpose, every moment was a move you'd made this far. From the moment you'd worn that lazily draped over jumper, and decidedly chosen a book over his trial. Each was a lure, meant to ensnare him deeper. The soft looks as the words danced in front of your eyes, versus the alluring sharpness when you waltzed right up to him, without a trace of fear. These were your moves, your plays to try and win a game he'd never meant to participate in. But if it was a game you wanted during that first kiss, then it was going to be a game you got. After all, he was the King, but he was also the master.
His fingers dusted over his lips as he lounged on his sofa, failing at attempting to replicate the petal-like softness your lips had graced him with. The comparison stuck with him, and he could see any and every truth it held. You stood tall against the hardship, petals reaching into the light, but unwinding and free vines in the dark.
He pulled out his phone, and the card he'd taken, typing the digits in under 'New Contact'. He never put people's real names in the device, too risky, and though he did love how the name fell off his tongue like honey, he had a better one in mind. Flashing there before him, was four, simple letters...

Rose