The businessman in the corner seat was blindly ignorant to the please vacate sign behind him. The woman drifted over to the suit, watching as he flipped through a series of printed e-mails, highlighting and scribbling comments as he skimmed the contents. She reached out a scalpel embedded index finger and watched the man jump.
He shook his hand and, no doubt cursing the god of papercuts, raised the wound to his mouth to ease the brief flash of pain. Shaking his hand, he returned to his paperwork. Flip, cut. Flip, cut. More papercuts marred his expensively manicured hands.
Swearing beneath his breath and he looked around, blind to the woman with the dreadlocks piled into a fountain on her head who stood before him, the woman who was so intently studying him with the detached and careful consideration of a predator.
The man sighed and laughed at little as his foolishness, but even he could hear the edge of insanity in his voice. He shuffled the documents to continue and uttered a very unmanly squeak as he saw a shallow cut open between his knuckles. His eyes widened in fear and confusion and he hastily stuffed his paperwork back into his briefcase, stumbled to the opening door and ran off along the platform.
The dreadlocked razor girl smiled serenely as the older woman eased herself into the vacant seat with a sign of relief. The smile broadening into a savage grin as she stepped off the train. The businessman's heart pounding in his chest, the stench of fear that rolled from him in waves, the panicked glances. She followed a path visible only to her kind, keeping her own leisurely pace in an increasingly frenetic world.
15minuteficlets — word #43: intoxicating
Part of the RazorGirl!verse