A few days later, Roxanne is alone at home. It's early evening and she's sitting on her couch watching the latest episode of TrueBlood on HBO. Since she's not planning on doing anything else for the rest of the night, she'd already changed into the loose cotton pants and tank top she usually sleeps in. She has an afghan pulled over her and a pillow positioned behind her. There's a bowl of popcorn sitting on her coffee table and a glass of diet soda beside it, both half-empty. Or half-full, depending on your point of view.

Just as, on the screen, a man sneaks into a woman's home unannounced, Roxanne's balcony door is suddenly thrust open by a real-life villain and a gust of wind sweeps into the apartment. She turns just in time to watch Megamind sweep in dramatically, the breeze blowing his cape around him. His thick boots clomp over her carpet and he stops in front of the couch, sneering down at her. "Good evening, Miss Ritchi," he greets her.

She rolls her eyes, "Hello Megamind," she answers, then proceeds to ignore him because she knows it will annoy him. She leans to her left so she can see the TV around him.

He scowls at her, annoyed that he didn't get any satisfactory reaction out of her. She had barely even flinched when the door opened, and not a single scream. Not even a startled gasp!

She looks up at him briefly. "You want some popcorn?" she offers politely, pretending that having a supervillain burst into her living room is a commonplace occurrence. In truth, it isn't the first time. Nor will it be the last.

"No, Miss Ritchi. I do not want pop-ed-corn," he answers, looking down with distaste at the bowl of microwave, no-fat, low-sodium puffs that pass for Roxanne's TV snack. He's never been quite able to eat popcorn without it reminding him of his boyhood humiliation at the 'Lil Gifted School, so he avoids the stuff. He prefers candy, anyway.

"Well can you get out of the way, then?" she asks, "It's just getting to the dirty part and you're making me miss it."

Startled, Megamind glances behind him at the screen where the erstwhile intruder is now in the heroine's bed. There's a lot of panting and bare skin by this point. Especially of the man's back and rear and the woman's breasts. They appear to be having rather rough sex. He stares at the scene open-mouthed for several seconds, his cheeks turning slightly lavender. He turns back to Roxanne and demands, "What are you watching?"

"TrueBlood. It's a raunchy vampire show. Now shhh… I want to see what happens. She isn't supposed to be with him."

"It doesn't seem to be stopping them." He observes wryly.

"No, it doesn't. Which is weird. Usually she hates him. He's a blood-sucking monster who's been putting her life in danger since the night they met. But he secretly likes her and she eventually falls for him. If they follow the books, he'll even trick her into marrying him at some point. I just didn't think the TV series had gotten to that point in the story yet." She watches raptly, her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms pulled tight around them. Just as she finishes her explanation, the heroine sits bolt upright in bed, the morning sunshine coming in the window. "Pft! A dream sequence! Damn, they had me going. I was hoping she'd finally given in."

He raises an eyebrow, "You're rooting for the villain to get the damsel?"

She glances at him through narrowed eyes, realizing after she spoke the significance of having this discussion with her own real-life villain. She shrugs it off. "It's just a show. Don't you ever watch dirty stuff on TV?"

He draws himself up haughtily and informs her that, "Watching human actors engage in simulated sexual acts on a television screen is hardly a productive use of my valuable time, Miss Ritchi."

"I see. Creating giant robots to destroy Metro Man is so much better," she observes sarcastically.

The sarcasm goes over his giant blue head. "Of course," he answers, "I'm surprised to see you watching such morally questionable entertainment, however. Does Metro Mahn know you watch things like that?"

"Probably not. But I'm an adult. Watching raunchy HBO shows doesn't break any laws. Speaking of which, how come you haven't knocked me out and dragged me to some abandoned building yet?"

"Do you want me to knock you out and drag you somewhere, Miss Ritchi?" He purrs at her suggestively.

She rolls her eyes, "Not particularly, but it's what I've come to expect from you. You're so predictable."

"Well, not this time. This time I'm merely here to ask you something."

"What?"

He smiles evilly at her before answering. He looks like the cat that got the canary. It makes her nervous. "I saw your kar-ee-oh-kee performance. You sing well."

"Shit." She rubs her face with her hands. She should have expected he'd find out about that.

"Please, Miss Ritchi. No need to be crude." He steeples his fingers and purses his lips in thought. "Why did you sing that song?"

She uncovers her eyes and glares up at his smug face, "Because I was drunk and my sister is a bad influence on me."

"You seemed to be enjoying it," he observes with a raised eyebrow.

"I like to sing," she defends herself.

He lays down his trump card. "Your sister said it was like the song was written for you. What did she mean by that?"

"That got on the clip?" she asks with a groan. This is just getting worse.

"It was barely audible. I had to enhance the sound to make it out. But I'm certain that's what she said. Now, answer the question. What did she mean by that?"

"My sister doesn't know what she's talking about."

"I'm not so sure. You appear to be very close to her. You meet with her most weeks. I would think that she knows you rather well. Why would she think this song describes you?"

She glares at him and admits, "My sister is delusional. She thinks that I like you better than Wayne. –Which is ridiculous."

"So, the song is not representative of how you feel about Metro Mahn and I?" he clarifies, somewhat disappointed.

"Well, you do kind of drive me crazy," she grins, "But not the way the song means."

He looks at her speculatively for a long moment, and then seems to come to a decision. Smirking, he says, "I know it's only natural that you prefer me to Metro Man, Miss Ritchi. I am the smartest man on the planet, not to mention incredibly handsome." She snorts derisively at that, but he continues uninterrupted, "But if you continue to publicly profess your preference for me over the hero, you are going to become useless to me as a hostage. No one will believe you need rescuing if they think you want to be my prisoner. Then I'll have to find another woman to kidnap, and I really don't want to do that."

"Aw, Megamind. I'm flattered," she says with mock sincerity.

"Don't be," he answers seriously, "I've put a lot of work into you. I know your habits, your schedule, which knock-out spray formula works best on you. Everything. Do you know how inconvenient it would be to gather all that information on someone else?"

"Inconvenient?" she asks.

"Yes."

A sly smile slides across her face, "So, if I were to announce publically that I hated Metro Man and had fallen madly in love with you, would you leave me alone and stop kidnapping me?" She looks at him with a slightly manic, hopeful expression.

"Why, Miss Ritchi. Are you in love with me?" he drawls, "I must admit, you would make an excellent addition to my criminal team. You could be at my side when I finally defeat Metro Mahn and take over Metrocity. You'd make a stunning Evil Queen."

"Tempting…" She pretends to consider it, "But no. I'd rather stay out of prison."

"Then I recommend you keep your feelings for me to yourself," he advises seriously, "I don't think the public would be sympathetic toward a woman who jilts Mr. Perfect for his archenemy."

"Right. I'll keep that in mind," she smirks at him.

He turns toward the door, waving over his shoulder, "Ciao, ciao, Miss Ritchi. I'll see you again soon."

"Looking forward to it," she answers in a monotone.

He pauses in mid-stride, a slight grin on his face that she can't see from her position, "I'm sure you are," he observes quietly before continuing across the room. He steps out her door and whistles. Immediately two brainbots appear, hook their tendrils under his arms, and carry him down toward the ground.

Roxanne groans in irritation and gets up to close the door behind him. Honestly, was he raised in a barn? She looks down from her balcony and watches the two glowing bots lower their blue creator to the sidewalk where he promptly vanished into his invisible car. She sighs. It just isn't fair. Why does he have to be the villain?