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There was something about fires that made him really excited. He loved the smell, the sound and the chaos, but there was something else that he couldn't put his finger on.
Fire raged all around; the weight of the building shifted suddenly.
He smirked calmly and quietly at the Baudelaire orphans, his hands clasped in front of him, resting at his belly.
His dark, twisted tunnels of black eyes brightened to a shiny onyx as the children raged on at him while screaming for someone to help them.
He chuckled and cackled as the pretty one, Violet, called him a monster, her voice filled with such disgust and hate.
"Oh, Violet," he breathed. "Violet, Violet, Violet."
He got closer to her, up close and personal to her now. They were now practically sharing the same breath now, and he could see little flecks of gold in her dark brunette eyes. He could see the fear and something else, something indescribable.
"The world isn't as good or bad, or as black and white as you believe it is," he continued on, enjoying the way the girl was looking at him. "The real world doesn't work like that. Good people can have darkness in them, just as bad people can have good in them."
Count Olaf paused, enjoying the look on Violet's face and in her eyes. Oh, this was fun. He was enjoying this oh so much! He continued to ignore her siblings. He gestured grandly and smiled in fake brightness as his rant continued.
"Most of the time, people aren't born good or evil. Sometimes, evil is made. And when people are made to be evil, they start to enjoy it so much that not even a single, little plea will change a single villain's mind."
As his monologue ended, he stopped gesturing.
Count Olaf and Violet stared at each other for a long moment before he snuck a quick peck on the oldest Baudelaire's lips.
He ran to catch up with his henchpeople, cackling at the orphans' angry protests.