He sits there conceitedly relaxed, despite the shackles tethering him to the chair. Death row has been his home for an age now, but there is no doubt that he deserves his fate. Only his dear old Mom wept for him; and for that she earns a tattoo over his cold, black heart.
A woman sits opposite. She represents the family of his last victim. She is there to make a deal so that they can finally have closure.
With the conference phone ready, she gestures for him to begin; then with a sickening nonchalance he goes through 'the menu', as he calls it, of the terrible things he did in the last moments of his victim's life. In sickening, yet concise, detail he describes every rip of skin, every break of bone, every brutal act until the very end.
As he finishes, and sits there with the smug satisfaction beaming from his face, a grin creeps onto hers, eventually matching his smugness- tooth for tooth. Then glaring at him, eye to eye, she speaks, and watches with glee as his arrogance vanishes:
"My clients appreciate your honesty. So does the man they have paid to visit your Mom; he can't do his job if he doesn't know what's on 'the menu'."