Across the room, sprawled in a velvet armchair, sat Brad Pitt. He was engrossed in a reality show on the television, a wry smile playing on his lips.
“Well, well,” Brad drawled, eyes twinkling. “You must be Bruce. Nice to meet you, though you wouldn't happen to be a spider enthusiast, would you?"
Bruce, still reeling from the journey, blinked. "Spider enthusiast? No, no, not particularly. Though I did..." his voice trailed off as a sudden pang of guilt pierced him. He had eaten one, hadn't he? A rather large, hairy one, in fact.
"Don't worry," Brad said, waving a dismissive hand, "it happens. Besides, I'm more of a dog person anyway." He gestured at the empty seat beside him. "Care to join me? I'm just about to see if this guy can actually handle the heat."
Bruce hesitated, caught between the surrealness of the situation and the unsettling familiarity of Brad's gaze. It felt... intimate.
As he took a seat, Brad leaned in, his voice low and husky. "Say, you know I've always had a thing for guys who can travel through time. And you, my dear Bruce, seem to have a certain..." he paused, a mischievous glint in his eye, "je ne sais quoi."
Bruce felt a blush creep up his neck, his mind racing. This Brad Pitt wasn't the Hollywood heartthrob he knew. This Brad Pitt had a glint in his eye that hinted at something deeper, something... dangerous.
The TV screen flickered, and Bruce gasped. It was him, years younger, a hero caught in a shootout. Bullets flew, and... he was shot. The image faded, replaced by a close-up of Brad's face, a strange, almost predatory expression on his face.
"Oh, I know," Brad murmured, leaning closer, his voice a seductive whisper. "It's a tragedy, really. But don't worry, Bruce, I'm here to make sure you don't have to worry about anything... ever again."
Bruce felt a chill run down his spine. This wasn't just a time travel mishap, this was a twisted game. And he had just become the pawn in a deadly, seductive game of time and desire.