A/N: Hello, this is a rather exciting story for me, and it has a new character in it- Clint Vang. If you want CHARACTER PROFILES of Rose, Fiona, or Clint, please visit my writing tumblr, and the link to that is on my profile page.

It would really make me happy if you reviewed or favorited at the end.

Claimer: Yeah, bitch, I OWN dis shit! I'm kidding, you're fine, you're not a bitch... ;)

"Hypnotic Eyes"

You always noticed her eyes first. They were captivating. They were a mystery, and you wanted to solve that mystery. It was a secret. People wanted to get closer to her, find out the secret that the girl was hiding. In their own way, the eyes were rather hypnotic. The girl used them to get people to come closer.

The secret was her voice. It was a sweet melodic voice when you heard it. It drew you in even more. You never strayed from looking at her eyes, but the words she spoke would fill your mind and you would hear or feel nothing else. Your mind would be overcome by what she said. Her word was the only command your body could comply to.

Men were her main targets. She could be a bit of a seductress at times. She was like a goddess when you met her, her eyes and voice and body perfect. Everything about her was amazing.

That is, until she was done with you.

You were trash to her once she was done using you. You couldn't assist her any longer, and you saw a less perfect side. Her voice sounded just the slightest bit shrill and nasally. It was hardly there, and it takes a keen ear to pinpoint exactly what it was that threw the perfection off. Her eyes would turn hard, and unwelcoming. She looked down her nose at you, because she wasn't the only one who seemed unappealing.

Why were the eyes so startling and mysterious? The color. Her irises were a light violet, a rarity, and naturally people were drawn to looking at them. To Rose, it was a beautiful and useful gift. She couldn't do much of anything without somehow using her gorgeous eyes.

One day of course, there was a bit of a challenge. She'd woken up and carried on with her day with her usual confidence. Nothing about her day was off, until she saw somebody at a certain point, then, not only did her day change, so did her life. The question now is: for better, or for worse?

She sat at a lunch table, working on her term paper. A simple task, given that she had beyond an average intelligence. That was something about herself that she took true pride in. She wouldn't let anyone do this for her.

Everybody had a sense of catching people staring at them. Rose wasn't any different, only as soon as she felt that someone was watching her, her eyes turned secretive and she whipped her head up to immediately grab their eye. How else could she do what she did as often as she did?

It was then- that Tuesday- that she got that sense, and almost physically felt eyes on her. She stared at her paper, warming her eyes up, and then snapped her head up. She met two differently-colored eyes, green and grey. Her eyes bored into his, and vice versa.

'Come here,' she demanded coolly in her brain. He didn't seem to do anything.

'Come here,' she repeated, still using that tone. Nothing.

'Come here!' she nearly shouted in side her mind, quite irritable. Still, nothing had happened. The boy blinked and then turned away, going back to his food. Rose blinked, and her jaw had dropped. No one had ever resisted her summoning, and never had anyone just looked away! He'd resisted her. What the hell was wrong with him that would even cause him to be able to look away? Did he have an abnormally thick skull?

"I think you've lost control again Rose," Fiona interrupted her gazing. Fiona was her adopted sister, although except for color of eyes, hair, and Rose's freckles, they looked nearly the same. Fiona was an inch taller.

"I haven't. Really," Rose told her, squinting at the odd ball. Fiona raised her eyebrows.

"Then why are you staring with your eyes like that?" she inquired. Rose mumbled incoherently.

"What did you say?" Rose sighed, very much frustrated.

"I had a target. He looked away." Fiona was silent. Nobody ever looked away from Rose. Ever. A thousand thoughts must be going through her sister's head, none positive. It was Fiona's job to distract her.

"How's your criminology paper coming along?" she asked.

"Fantastic," Rose answered without skipping a beat. She never took her eyes off the boy, narrowing her eyes further. Fiona was sure her eyes were burning by now, but Rose didn't seem to pay any mind.

Wait a minute.

"Are your eyes burning yet?" Fiona whispered in a smug fashion. Just like she predicted, a few seconds later Rose turned abruptly to face the table, blinking and squeezing her eyes shut again and again. She could stare for quite a long time until you brought up the words "burning eyes". Even if they weren't they would begin to.

"Damn it Fiona," Rose grumbled. Fiona smirked.

"You know you can't dwell on this stuff. He's not worth your time or thoughts," Fiona insisted.

"It could mean something though. What if my ability is deteriorating? I need to know this. I need to know his name." Rose scanned the cafeteria. Then she called out a name.

"Elizabeth," her voice rang out nicely. Two tables away, a young pretty Native American girl turned around. Rose locked eyes with her. Elizabeth was smart and sweet, but easy enough to manipulate. Rose was "friends" with her.

"Remind me to do something for her," Rose muttered as the native girl made her way over. Fiona nodded, making note to hold Rose to that.

"Elizabeth, do you know what that boy's name is? With the two differently-colored eyes?" Rose dug into Elizabeth's thoughts with those questions. Elizabeth shook her head no, and Rose pursed her lips to the side.

"Well, Elizabeth dear, could you do me a favor and find out? Please be discrete and report back to me in a few minutes." Rose told her, and then dismissed her. Elizabeth walked over to the boy, who was sitting with a couple of friends.

Analyzing his body language, Rose could tell there wasn't anything off about him. He was quieter than she would expect a college boy to be- that really did lead to questions about him. He still laughed sometimes at something his friends said. He seemed tall, a little bulky- he was her type. A disappointment that he seemed to be able to reject Miss Rozalina Malana.

Elizabeth came back and interrupted her thoughts.

"His name is Clint. Clint Vang." 'Vang?' That was an interesting last name. 'I'll have to find more out about this kid.'

"Thank you Elizabeth," Rose paused to look at Elizabeth's table, and saw a few papers. "Now I have to ask, are you having trouble in your math class again?" Elizabeth nodded quickly, easily expressing that she was most definitely having an issue.

"Come by my apartment, and I'll see if I can help you," Rose smiled, her voice warming. Elizabeth smiled, nodded, and went back to her lunch table to talk to her friends.

"So what's the play?" Fiona sighed, knowing that Rose was already planning something in her head. This was the type of thing Rose was best at- other than somehow hypnotizing people.

"I don't know yet. Never really had a problem like this- I might have to take a while to think this through. I can't do anything at all just yet anyway. I don't have enough information on this guy."

"You have his name, what else do you need to know?" Fiona frowned. Rose rolled her eyes as if the answer was obvious.

"I need his medical history for one. I need to find out if he's in our class. What major he has, and what kind of childhood he may have had."

"Why on earth do you need to know what kind of childhood the guy had?" Fiona nearly exclaimed. Rose was a hardcore investigator. She was a master manipulator. She was surprised Fiona couldn't keep along.

"I need to figure out what kind of mental shields he might have up. People start on those from a young age, it's best to know how his childhood went, so I can figure out how it affected him." Fiona rolled her eyes this time. She thought this was just a bit overboard.

"What if you can't find all of this out?" Rose turned to her poor, slow, silly sister. She must not have gotten all of her caffeine this morning, or bumped her head. It was the only explanation.

"Fiona, do you not realize that I always figure out anything I want to know that has been put down on paper or saved somewhere?" Fiona didn't acknowledge it, but she knew it happened.

"You're going to leave me out of this right?" Fiona prayed for the answer she wanted to hear, and Rose knew what Fiona wanted. It was a good thing Fiona was acting stupid today, an odd quality for her.

"I can't have you slowing down the answers. Only I know how to do any of this," Rose sighed.

It was a tough life to lead, being a genius.

'Well there he is. Second row. Mr. Clint Vang, junior year criminology major. A former high school basketball player- normal childhood, normal life. At least he's making this a challenge for me,' Rose thought as she slid into her seat for her third and last class of the day. The tall dirty blonde boy was doodling on his notebook. Rose wondered what he was drawing.

'No use wondering about that. Pay attention,' Rose's mind told her. She ordered her notebook and prepared for notes. She was an organized person; she never let anything get very messy at all. (That's why she had to fix this thing with Clint before her inability started to spread to other guys.)

"Hey, Rose right?" an unfamiliar masculine voice sounded from beside her. A shadow fell over her small desk. She looked up, unprepared to see the boy she'd been pondering about for at least a day.

"Yes. You're Clint." Very smooth. Rose was only good at sudden and unexpected when she was using her eyes and her voice- both were turned off at the moment. He shifted in his stance hesitating, eyes scanning the room as if to look anywhere but at her. Males that were not comfortable around her was not a strange occurrence- in fact, she preferred they felt that way. If they were comfortable with her, they may not leave her alone.

"I was wondering if I could sit near you today. I was absent yesterday, and Professor Wright said you had the best notes." While that was most likely true, Rose knew there was no way Professor Wright could have known that without looking at her notes thoroughly. Rose was careful about anyone touching them- there was no point where he could have looked at him. Rose knew Clint was lying- but she didn't call him on it.

"Sure, absolutely." It was probably best to appear normal until Rose could determine why Clint chose to sit next to her. Had one of his friends dared him to sit with the strange violet-eyed girl? Was her silent mental message just now getting to his head? Or, and Rose was strongly considering this- did he want to study her just as much as she wanted to study him? Playing it off like she was normal would throw him off any investigation he was planning on doing.

Rose had deducted that Clint led a normal childhood, and from that, she could predict that he had fewer walls up, fewer defenses, and she would have easier access to his mind. Unless of course, there was some tragedy she didn't know about that had possibly taken place. She'd have to look at his absences again, check for any excused ones, with death-in-the-family marked. Rose liked having his school records. It was very fun to have them.

The class passed by without any deep thought of each other. They paid attention to the teacher, Rose occasionally scanning the room and quickly judging her fellow classmates. It wasn't very far in the year at all, and she could already tell who were the slack-offs and who were taking the class seriously. She briefly noticed that Clint and his friend in this class were both guys that took genuine interest in the class. They gained some respect. For closed-off Rose, it was hard for her to really accept anyone she hardly knew as real honest-to-goodness human beings with lives.

This was something she used to be able to do, but morons in her past, both females and males, proved that not many deserved her affection- or as Fiona put it, her positive acknowledgement of their existence. Potato Po-tah-to. At least she wasn't uninterested at the idea of "love". She was really just blasé about it- let it come, let it go.

As the Professor let the class go, Rose quickly organized her things and stood up to leave. A warm hand an inch from her shoulder caused her to turn around. Her cold-nature left her slightly more sensitive to heat. Clint smiled down at her.

"Hey, what's your next class?"

Clint was six feet tall. He was taller than at least half the guys in most of his classes. The girls were typically five-foot-six, give or take an inch or two. Rose was short- five-foot-three. He stood nearly a foot taller than her, but her elegant posture, intimidating attitude, and intense stare made her seem taller. Not much, just enough for her to make up the size between all of the girls.

Muscle wise, Rose could probably take down maybe a little more than 75% of the girls. A few guys too. She wasn't bulging with muscle, but he himself had been an athlete, and he still worked out. He could tell that she was strong, and she worked at it. She seemed determined to be superior, in some specific things or in all things, and she knew that if she trained her muscles hard, she could physically manipulate quite a few people. That's what he had deducted about her.

He'd noticed those things about the girl. She'd caught his eye a week prior to his actually talking to her. A tiny young woman with violet eyes was not a regular occurrence, let alone such a powerful figure. She was practically buzzing with electricity and intelligence and simple power. He wasn't even sure what it was that made her seem so bold, and so mysterious. There was a scar on her chin- that added the question of how it got there. Something she never told anybody, except maybe her sister, but her sister would already know.

Then he caught her eye. Their gazes had locked that Tuesday in the cafeteria, and he knew. A simple force tried pulling him in, but his cautious behavior stopped him from doing anything. He had looked away, but he could still feel her eyes on him. It was an interesting feeling. He wondered what would happen if he went closer to him.

Curiosity drove him mad. He had to know exactly what it was that drew him to her other than the eyes. There was a force! An impulse that told him that he needed to go to her. He had heard another guy or two talk about her- a vixen, they described her as. A manipulative evil genius. (He would have thought that the manipulative was implied with evil genius, but he supposed she raised it to another level.) She was perfect at first, but when she no longer needed you to help her with whatever it was she needed- you didn't matter to her anymore, what did she care if you saw that she wasn't perfect?

Was it perfection though? That scar that marred her chin- it definitely wasn't tiny. It was a millimeter thick, pale white, and it ran from her bottom lip to the tip of her chin. She didn't cover it up- she only traced it absentmindedly at times, she probably didn't even really remember that it was there. She was fine with it being there.

"I have a mental illness class with Professor Ross next," she answered him, her voice clear as a bell, and luxurious, like silk. It was slightly different than what he had just heard only a minute ago.

"Same. May I walk you to it?" He leaned down to offer her an elbow, which she smiled sweetly and took.

"Yes, you may," she replied softly, her voice this time tinkling and happy. She was a doll. They began their short travel to the next auditorium.

Clint was a gentleman, and Rose was very pleased to see that. Nothing she did to him made him act like that. He was genuine. Either that or some sort of serial- something. She was pleased with gentleman, but given her slightly more skilled training in defending herself and an odd, somewhat worrying knowledge of poisons and weapons, she figured she could deal with him if he were a serial-something. Maybe she was overestimating herself, or underestimating him, she wasn't concerned. He had no real trauma that would cause him to be a serial-something, so she didn't worry.

"So why are you interested in criminology?" Clint's airy light questioning tone was not unfamiliar to her- lots of people that suddenly started to take an interest in Rose used it to ask her questions. She didn't think much of it coming from him; she must have a reputation he wants to sort through in order to get closer to her.

"I like the idea of catching a criminal through understanding how they think. I've probably watched too many cop shows, but I do believe if I get involved with criminology I'll enjoy it." That was what she really thought. Not to mention that she wanted to keep all of the creeps that like going into unlocked houses away from thirteen year old girls that could easily be scarred for life. Rose locked that thought away instantly, only to catch it and hold it to the forefront of her mind. He might be looking for a specific memory.

"Most people don't really go for it though- is there something that happened to you that triggered your need for this?" he inquired. He was a little bit too interested in that for her comfort.

"Yes." She paused. He pressed on.

"Is it too awful to speak about it?" She gave a half smirk, looking forward, and never to him.

"It left the scar. You kind of can't be too affected by something you are constantly reminded of…when I was thirteen, my mother was a drunk. She came home, left the door unlocked once again, and this time, a crazy guy came into our house. I left my room near one in the morning- he was there. Raised a finger to his lips, wanting me to be quiet, and gently created a cut on my chin. He had the intention of killing me and my family. I was quiet for seconds, and then I screamed, kicked, punched.

"The cops later on said they had never seen the evidence of a thirteen year old nearly killing a grown man before. The contact was what made me go momentarily crazy- two other homeless guys had come in through our unlocked door before. I normally got something to knock them out and call the cops. You have no idea how long I was in therapy for that crap," she joked at the end- it was a sad thing, somehow funny to her. Clint raised his eyebrows.

"Wow. That beats my reason," he breathed. She nudged his side.

"I'd like to know what it is."

"Someone robbed our house. I saw the man leave, was able to point him out in a line up. The cop who dealt with the case said he was proud of me, that I handled what happened well and that I should become an officer. I held onto that, I guess," he shrugged. She smiled. He was a sweet guy, maybe naïve, but she liked it. He wasn't dimwitted at all; he was determined, and intelligent.

Yet, how had this not come up when she did her research?

"Clint, what happened after you dealt with the cops?" He stopped and in result she did too. He shifted uncomfortably, and just a few feet away she stared at his face, which was staring at the ground. Then he looked up.

She was startled. His eyes held everything, yet they told nothing. His eyes were like green glass marbles, and on the inside you could see his soul swirling inside, and his life was inside them as well. It was like nothing she had ever witnessed before in her career involving eyes. It was a brilliant thing. A welcomed change.

His eyes were positively enchanting.

"Then, the policeman who worked on the case took me in, because my parents signed the adoption papers. Ever heard of emotional neglect?" Yes, as a matter of fact, she did. She nodded.

"Another reason I needed therapy." There was a new understanding, a sudden clarity between them. Their eyes never strayed from the other pair.

It was a rather hypnotic new bond.

"Hey Rose…and company. Rose?" Fiona greeted Rose as she came into the apartment. Behind her walked Clint, holding a large paper bag. Fiona recognized him as the guy who had resisted her "charm".

"Fiona, this is Clint. He's in a few of my classes. I invited him to dinner, that's fine with you isn't it?" Fiona was shocked. Rose was more of a black widow with her ways, if she wanted to do anything sexual with a man- which was not often- she simply take him to her bedroom much later on at night, and this was after she used him. The men never had dinner with them.

"Yes. Completely fine- I'll even help you with dinner. Clint, why don't you go to the living room and sit for a bit?" Clint nodded, sharing an amused expression with the redhead he came in with, and went into the room mentioned.

"Rose, I need to speak with you? Yeah, what are you doing with him? You aren't playing with him somehow are you?" Rose rolled her eyes, never taking that happy, entertained smile off.

"No, actually I'm not- I was, but now I'm not. He's…much more worth my time than the others. Very much so." She brought on a much softer, vulnerable side to her- a nice tone. Her eyes were soft, a wonderful violet, instead of a calculating stare filled with secrets.

This didn't really surprise Fiona. She had been near sure that Rose would just toss aside Clint once she had conquered him, just like the others. Of course, she briefly thought that she would grow to appreciate her immense challenge once she understood him a little better. Rose having a relationship would definitely benefit her somehow- she wasn't at all used to them. She rather preferred to be left alone to think and read, and plot, as Fiona assumed.

"That's great Rose, I mean really, really great. I'm very pro-" Rose held her hands up and cut her off.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Don't do this to me McLane, I've got a guy I'm interested in, I haven't just gone soft. Now help me with dinner will ya? This bag is heavy as hell," Rose griped. Fiona rolled her eyes. Typical Rose.

Now if Fiona could just get her to quit manipulating people altogether.

"Not gonna happen Fi."

A/N: Well, there you go! I really hope you like it enough to review. Or dislike it enough to flame, at this point I'm okay to accept both.

Seriously though, please review.

~RosesAndWriting