SNAKE IN THE GRASS

    there’s a  M E T H O D  to her madness and certainly ( or at least, at present ) a need to keep with the path of it all. she’d like to be free, wander around aimlessly doing as most demons do but she also wasn’t born yesterday; idiocy got people dead and believe it or not ( no matter how easy death had been in comparison ), she liked being ALIVE. the perks of humanity were but a bonus — one of the few. “ no offence... ” they’d hummed, needing to insinuate the importance of the task at hand. “ I have a job to do and this — isn’t helping. ”

      she’d always been susceptible to  B R I E F  instances, where the cogs of humanity would find themselves aflame ( she liked to deem it ghosts of a past version of herself, one who had sold their soul for magic ). times change and she’d moved on — maybe not far enough or sometimes too far. truthfully she knew where her issues laid: she cared TOO much about the wrong things and not enough about the right ones but that seemed to fall into deep water and drown. it was ALWAYS the innocent ones that reminded her of her issues; people who basked in the light and didn’t seem to care to judge or bat an eye at who or what you were ( yes, she had been aware she was evasive on those subjects ). she’d stab herself later for it, probably want to gauge out her eyes for the words that she’d allow to leave her vessel but alas...not everything had to be something more than a passing kindness. “ hey, ” they chuckle, it’s almost genuine until she’s internally spitting venom at herself ( she’s blaming it on him; her vessel and his kindness ). “ nice to see you didn’t become an icicle. ” it’s probably too soon to make remarks like that but given her lapse into momentary kindness, she doesn’t care; screw the rules. 

          she’d been used to daggers; that  S E E M E D  to be the norm because demons only did loyalty for so long ( until it either faded or another high bidder came along to continue the violent circle ). if anything death was easy and living was the hard part, not simply by slight defective tendencies alone but rather because what good was a world filled with people willing to kill or betray you. it’s amusing, the self-centered nature of how she worked; that’s how he’d been roped into the bigger picture before. vessel or not, she had to give him points; without him, she never would’ve succeeded but even in the VAST desire of bigons being bigons...some secrets needed to remain ( it wasn’t anything person ) and maybe there was an amusing narrative to just how much she enjoyed being this vessel: how much she liked to feed off of people’s assumption of good intention because of nothing more than a smile and a badge — or maybe it was the power. on principle, she did take a moment to vastly enjoy the maturity that had come with a decade. although he hadn’t changed much at all ( certainly not in any physical way ). and then they beam, offer a smile which speaks for to the joyous buddy cop narrative than anything more...questionable.

 plenty of bodies had been showing up, all of which she’d guarantee were deaths linked to the darker supernatural folk in the town and lucky for her...the department weren’t trying to act oblivious. “ they’re getting reckless, ” their tone is serious, less so is the internal amusement but that seems to be something she’ll enjoy later. “ all these deaths are had to cover up; people aren’t as susceptible to embracing ignorance as they used to be... ” a groan, it’s only slightly frustrating and maybe it would be more so if she’d not been certain she’d had her fair share in the bodies listed. 

a cop? it’s not a presence that necessarily bothers her, per say, but she imagines there might be some people that would beg to disagree ( the ones looking into this as an opportunity to drink themselves under the table ). “ relax. i’m not troubled enough to break through with the underage drinking. ” which, in context, might actually be a little bit sad. who knows? maybe joining all the wrinkly alcoholics rounded up at the bar would do her some favors ;  deal with the stress and all of that.

           he  decides  straight  away  that  he  likes  them.   they’re  funny,  have  a  glint  in  their  eye  that  sparks  familiar,  and  they  haven’t  tried  to  interject  any  questions  about  morality,  or  consequence  of  action,  upon  hearing  his  comments.   so  he  smiles,  nods  his  head  in  their  direction.  “  i’m  more  of  a  — ”   he  paraphrases  their  words.  “  quick  and  dirty  kind  of  guy. ”   one  snap,  or  a  sinking  of  his  fangs  into  their  carotid  artery,  and  it’s  GAME  OVER.   (  he’s  not  against  playing  with  his  food  but  he’s  not  known  for  being  patient  either.  )   “  —  but  what’s  life  without  a  little  variety  ?   we’ll  be  here  for  awhile.   might  as  well  have  a  little   F  U  N  while  we’re  at  it. ”   he’d  played  good  for  so  many  years,  tried  to  deny  the  person  that  he  really  was  down  deep,  and  in  truth  ?   IT  FEELS  GOOD  EMBRACING  YOUR  INNER  DEMONS  AND  NOT  TRYING  TO  BE  THE  BETTER  MAN  PEOPLE  THINK  YOU  CAN  BE.    “  suggest  away. ”   his  eyes  light  up,  elbows  braced  against  the  bartop  as  he  slides  a  glass  of  bourbon  over  to  them.