DIDN'T WORK OUT, DID IT?

hi,  i  MOVED !

let me know if there’s anything you’d like to continue over there?  gonna be running it a liiiittle differently  &  not draft things i owe,  otherwise i just forget about them.  established relationships can either be moved over or reset <3

alastors smile widens a bit .  he’d always found something very endearing about a person so clearly unable to defend themselves  .  remnants from a past where he ,  too ,  was in danger of getting hurt himself in the scuffle - humans are fragile things ,  he’d learned .   overlords less so .

he withdraws his hand after helping the other demon up and hides it behind his back with the other ,  where the imp can’t see it ;  and then he wipes his glove in his coat .  just in case .   

❛   NO ,  I WOULD SUPPOSE you don’t !  someone took all your hard - earned cash ,  didn’t they ,  friend ?  it’s alright ;  my treat .   ❜

as durable  &  long - lived as hell's domestic species prove time  &  time again to be,  they're still mortal  —  resilience of roaches,    but without an earthly soul there is no limbo.  without limbo,  there is no SECOND CHANCE.  

    (  third chance,  forth chance,  fifth chance;        however many chances one can wage      until the soul ceases to be.  ) 

from the residual tremble that rattles narrow limbs,  they're all too aware of their corporeality in a place like pride.

and     he     already     has     an     arm     around     them ,        keeping     them     pressed     to     his     side ,        leaning     into     the     feeling     of     their     claws     brushing     through     fur .        he     yelps     at     the     touch     of     their     tongue ,        overdramatic .        ❛❛      gross .      ❜❜        but     he’s     grinning     back     at     them ,        brings     another     hand     up     to     hold     their     face     still     as     he     leans     in     and     plants     a     𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒     against     the     heart     on     their     forehead .        ❛❛      nothin’ .        you     know     that .      ❜❜

 — she sits in silence as they speak, eyes following the movement of their hand across his desk rather than meeting their gaze. he doesn’t need to talk – not that he even wants to give them the response they’re looking for. defending herself, pretending like she didn’t barely make enough to get by, acting like his employees gave a shit about him. whatever. the look on his face and the flicking of his tail says it all, anyway. her frown only tightens when they laugh in his face. jackass.

— though huffy and visibly irritated, the mention of publicity certainly catches his attention, eyes shooting back to their stupid clown face. brow raises, and his look of annoyance drops into one of confusion.

— ❝ didn’t think associating with a group of assassins would look good on you, ❞ blitzo muses, mostly talking to itself as it moves its feet right back off of her desk, sitting upright in her cushy office chair. one leg crosses over the other, and a defeated sigh escapes them as they continue. ❝ but if you’re actually here for business, y'got my attention. though, frankly, i don’t know why the hell you’d come to us. ❞ though still blunt as ever, their tone grows even, previous hostility being forced down in favor of some level of professionalism. he can be professional when he wants to be.

— ❝ so, spill it. who’s the poor bastard, huh? what’d they do t'you? ❞

it's all very minute,  but fizzarolli has spent years judging those by a facsimile of emotion that the tiniest twitch or flinch speaks crystal  &  honest.  she pointedly avoids eye contact,  but the weight of fizz's sharp gaze remains scrutinizing.  the discomfort it dredges up is too good.  they take an indulgent pleasure in watching her figuratively squirm,  encouraged by recollection of her limp,  pathetic avoidance she bared to them that night at ozzie's. 

they fall into a less than casual lean,  willowy limbs unspool across the desk — loose coils leak over blitz's side,  a deliberate shove against her boundaries in the hopes she might press herself flush to the back of her chair  &  let that galling professionalism falter.  it's what they're waiting for;  what they're watching for,  head tilted and teeth bared in the grin that holds no good-natured humor.

“ never said you’d be associating with my name, ”   scoffs,  pulling back into themselves when she doesn’t reward them with further hostility.  guess this is too good an opportunity to piss away.  fizz takes that to mean job offers are trickling.  ain’t that interesting?

          (  is he desperate enough?  )

“ it’s a big job.  not sure you’re up for it!  BUUUT IF YOU ARE, ”   their arms are set over their chest,  theatrics tucked close and tight in a manner that once implied uncertainty,  but it’s been years since blitz had seen them uncertain.   “ you guys’re gunna be shooting job offers down left,  right,  ‘n center!  like,  if you wanna play in the murder-for-hire big leagues,  i got’cher ticket. ”

“I always fact-check the news and history… I always keep up-to-date with Hell’s lore and history… You call it fake, I call it double-checking for the true truth.”

And that was true, Don was a seeker of the truth, never one to believe in the fake news.

“Royalty or not, anyone should be allowed to love whoever they want, no matter what everyone else says… And that is the truth fact-checked down to the bare bones.”

    “Look,  I ain’t arguing with your fairytale perspective on love,  yuck,   but'cha can’t go mixing up LOVE and LUST    OR go insinuating that a BIG DOG like Ozzie is muddying his rep by canoodlin' with an IMP in theee,  uh,”  a dismissive gesture,  like this doesn’t really bother him,  “ ... way of romance.  Or something.”

“Nah, favorite snacks- Of course kinks, ya oversexed rainbow. Thought we were goin’ on a road here with all the different questions to learn about the other… Unless you’d be more into skincare routines?”

Grinning at Fizz as he’d suppress a chuckle, not many had the kind of energy they had that could either match or fit to talk about such things with him, more often than not it were the shy ones that he’d have to pry a nice conversation out of, here he could just shoot the shit and be silly, to an extent.

“Wouldn’t be too surprised if ya got enough experience ta’ figure out folks interests just by lookin’ at them at this point, though ah hope ya do know things to look after besides another’s boner.”

   “Could tell you my fave snack,  for sure.”  They’ll feign a disappointed pout when he makes it clear this innocent game of twenty questions isn’t to be.  Bummer!  They’re sure they could’ve wasted some time nattering on about some useless Fizzarolli trivia.  Including their skincare routine,  if he’d be so interested.

“I CAN CLOCK A PISSBOY FROM A MILE AWAY.  Even the prudes,  man — I'm NEVER wrong!  I can sniff out what’s layin’ just below the surface,  eeeven if they don’t know it.  Like,  not to BRAG,  but I’ve totally been the catalyst for some serious sexual awakenings.”   A dark digit taps at the side of Fizz’s snout,  unapologetically self-satisfied,  as if that knowledge hasn’t set their skin a-crawlin' on a fair few occasions.  Ah,  sober nights.  God,  gotta HATE ‘em.

There wasn’t much of coherent thought running through Angel’s brain, but emotions?  Plenty of those.  Fear.  Dread.  Panic.  That sensation of just wanting the floor to up and swallow you, but like, forever.  But, it wasn’t like he could up and pull himself together– Angel wasn’t on the edge, he was already gone.  He’d already plummeted from that cliff, and there was nothing to hold onto, not with how fast he was falling.

It wasn’t a pretty sight.  His hands gripping at himself, nails digging in– about five seconds from pulling out his own fur, paired with the hazy, unfocused fear in his eyes– like he was staring at something horrifying, but he couldn’t exactly make out what it was.

He felt something touch him.  Grab him.  His mouth opened, he took a breath.  To scream?  To shout?  To let out some strangled cry?  Only an exhale, as a freezing cold temperature hit his palm.  It was wet, and chilled his fingertips.

What was it?  The fear in his eyes dimmed, just a little– his brain slowly processing the command.  It was slow, but the gears were turning, slowly shifting him back into reality, the current moment.

“……….Ice…..?”

    EMOTIONS,  EMOTIONS,  EMOTIONS.   Either too many,  or none at all.   Fizzarolli’s hands fall away,  and they recall the last time they did this.  The last time they remember doing this — who it was for.  They watch Angel’s return to the present with a bitterness that lingers on the back of their tongue.

They segue into this role,  as easy as they would any other.  

             (  it’s been a while.  )

Ozzie is going to scratch under Fizz's chin.

   FIZZ CAN ACCEPT A DISTRACTION.  Their chin will tilt up like an affectionate bird,  offer up a little more room for Asmodeus to caress.

“S I N C E they started being more entertaining than you.” Deciding to turn back around, Mammon settles his hands on his hips as he leans forward some; his smirk only seeming to grow all the more bigger, “Especially that Angel Dust. Who knows… They could the next big thing. What’s even better about him is that he has all his limbs attached still.” The Sin inclines a little closer, tail languidly swishing side to side.

“W A N T a gentle reminder of how helpless you can be without those limbs of yours? All it’ll take is a quick little… SNAP.”

  MAMMON’S WORDS STEAL THE BREATH FROM THEM.  It leaves them feeling like a balloon deflated.  Sours their expression,  leaves them feeling overtly exposed in the knee-jerk response they’re not steeled enough to hide from the Sin.

“Eight of ‘em,”  the imp presses through clenched teeth,  a hiss.  They can’t stand there like they’re not feeling threatened,  as much as they wish they could.  There’s a desire for nothing more than to spit it back at him and call a bluff,  but they’re not so stupid to believe he wouldn’t do it.  “Why stop at just the four,  right?!”

Their voice breaks an octave,  disguises the click of their heels in the hopes it might distract him from the step back they’ve just taken.

{ Roth’s mouth turned into a scowl. The cabbie wasn’t so much as “insecure”, more that they lacked patience. Tolerance for this line of questioning. }

{ He noticed how Fizz responded to that nickname. Then again, it could be just how The Jester was responding. Regardless, Roth kept it in mind. Choosing his words, Roth responds. }

“I’m not insecure. I just find your question annoying. I mean, do you regularly question people’s sexual peculiarities?”

    “Only when they’re bullshitting it.”  Fizz’s interest might’ve tapped out earlier if Roth could take this in stride,  but he seemingly can’t,  and Fizz continues to needle.