The young ragazza remained unaware of his presence as she trotted through the muck, blissfully ignorant that she was being stalked. It seemed almost too good to be true, he would think to himself as he continued to follow her, snaking through the brush to keep pace with her. Could she have already scented him but decided to string him along, pretending to not know he was there in order to trick him into revealing himself to her? It was possible, though he doubted that was the case. He was a stranger here, no one knew the reputation that proceeded him, so they didn't know to protect themselves from him. There was two ways this could go: he could either A) surprise her and be the bad guy or he could pretend as if he was lost (which he somewhat was) and play the charming stranger that would help her seek shelter from this godforsaken rain. The second option seemed to be the more entertaining of the two.
He would pull himself back, letting her get a ways ahead of him before he would slip out from the brush, allowing his body to relax as he stood to his full height once again. A moment would be taken to compose himself, wiping any hint that would give away his more malicious side, fixing himself up to look like a handsome stranger who needed some help. Once satisfied he would start after her, not bothering to hide the sounds of his approach as he came up behind her. She was a beauty of he'd seen any and suddenly he found himself wanting to claim her as his own, bend that body of hers to his will. He schooled his face carefully to avoid those thoughts from showing in his face before he called out to her. Mi scusi, ma'am. Sono uno po 'perso. Puoi dirmi dove mi trovo ? He understood english, which he was taking a wild guess was the common tongue here, but he figured that playing that foreign stranger card would probably work better in his favor, especially with a young woman such as she. Women tended to fall for the whole accent much better than men.
