Miss T was something as rare as a contract killer who was horrified by the concept of death. Unfortunately, she was too good at her job to not be doing it. The only tell of her inner turmoil was the slight but constant tremor of her hands. However, it was only noticeable up close, and the men she was sent after all had the ego to assume that her tremor had to do with an uncontrollable sexual attraction towards their person. Once the truth hit them they were all, with one perturbing exception, dead.
The perturbing exception was called Barry. He, along with all the other men, had the kind of enormous ego to unavoidably land him on a hit list, but in relation to all the others he had a knack for understanding women. Not in the way where he could assist a person of the female gender with any valuable advice on life or anything, but rather he could always tell the exact reason for why a woman was attracted to him. And on the rare occasion she wasn’t, what he would have to do to appease her.
So on the evening of his scheduled assassination, alone in a hotel room with the ever slightly trembling miss T, he suddenly looked her dead in the eye and exclaimed:
“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”
Taken aback by his astute observation miss T stared at him, for the first time in her adult life showcasing a real emotion to the world. Before her sat the only man she’d ever met that she felt understood her, that saw through her. Obviously she fell deeply in love with him that instant, confessed both this and her original intent, then asked if he would come away with her and hide under the covers of the new identities her now quite vast fortune of hit money could easily procure, and marry her. Barry, fearing for his life, said yes. Miss T – now miss P – lived happily ever after.
And Barry – now Gary – well, he lived.