"You know, we've only talked a few times."

"We can talk. My hearing isn't very well, you'll have to come closer."

I smiled. Her humor has always been weirdly comforting, or maybe that was her voice. I don't know. I just knew I liked hearing her speak.

I don't know what she is, exactly. I'm sure she's human, like me, but her and I are both immortal. I looked at her fingers creep around the rusting, metal bars that I spent months constructing. Another one of my traps, of course, her one weakness is that her supernatural devotion to killing me doesn't allow her to think logically. She follows wherever I go, sometimes I feel bad for exploiting it.

"This tunnel will be submerged in water within the next coming week, the caves will erode and collapse, I think you'll be in here for at least another century if not more. Aren't you curious about what I'm like? Don't you wanna have a conversation?" I questioned her, moving in such a way that she could see my face and I could see hers. I found it astonishing how beautiful she looked for her age. I understand that immortality keeps us young, but her grace was in no way less surprising.

I'm a fool for getting lost in such beautiful, murderous eyes.

"You of all people understand that any fraction of time means nothing to an eternal soul. These mere inconsequential moments you buy yourself are worthless. It'll all be forgotten in the end."

I pondered on her words, it's true, I found no lasting connection in my time on Earth. A rather bleak life for someone who has endless opportunities. All those who I find comfort in, I watch die. I watch my cities rise and fall, it becomes a repetitive bore after a while.

Why I was offered this deal in the first place, I don't know. I assume death- what I call my hunter- has done this before. I gave up trying to find an explanation the more I learned that everything in this universe runs on a cycle. I can only assume she had hunted an endless amount of other men in other worlds, in other times, what I do know is that everything balances out eventually.

Regression toward the mean and all.

I sighed, perhaps I'll try to talk to her again once she escapes her circumstances, waiting one thousand years is an easy task.