[And Gaara jerks his head at the nearest food-smelling place, not because he knows what it serves but because he's making an executive decision (and because he can't really tell what any of these places are, so whatever). Luckily it's Indian, which means they have spicy which means Gaara likes it.

They sit down with their food -Gaara pays not because he's a gentleman but because he'd assumed he would- and Gaara finally decides they're far enough from reporters for him to spill his life story.

He'd never had a problem sharing intimate details of his life with strangers, after all. He just knew that those reporters had some kind of recording devices, and he didn't like people hearing his words out of context.]

My situation would likely be more similar to those of your kind who have hurt people than your own life. Before I was born, a demon was sealed inside of me. It made me...unstable.

But I murdered many people for my own enjoyment based on a philosophy I built for myself to cope. A flawed philosophy. [hi im a serial killer]