Seraph

   Odd, wouldn’t Fumus harm him for spilling his coffee? It was... confusing, but perhaps dealing with another god that required so much attention had softened his own with exhaustion. It would certainly explain a lot, not that he isn’t grateful for the attempts to soothe the burn. ”A reward...? That’s not--..” Necessary. He wanted so badly to say it but he knew better, the same went for not ever mentioning Olive to him,”... Is it alright to sit with you while you work?”

   Even with the pot taken out of his hands, they stayed stiffly in place with tension. One part wanted to whither in pain, but the other half held the reins that made Taffy only quiver from the pain from the burn and another from trying too hard to stay still and complacent. It wasn’t as bad as being used as an ashtray, of course. But through it all, Taffy felt his hand being tugged back and... kissed? It helped, surprisingly. “S-sorry... At least none of it got on your desk.”

   Taffy had stumbled in the slightest when pulled, making him jerk the pot upright before any of the coffee could spill freely onto he desk. However in his haste a small amount of the molten liquid sloshed and spilled from the spout, right onto the seraph’s hand. He didn’t move. It burned horribly, but he didn’t dare do anything but stay stock still and bite his lip.

and not the easy kind of weeds, i mean ones that have huge root bulb things and thorns- like Greenbrier

   Satanick was... gentle, but there was no helping the instinctive flinch. But if it had been anyone else, Taffy would have said ‘no’ and turned away almost immediately. Yet this loud, sometimes even obnoxious and nosy devil, the lord of the demons- he was allowed?    The more he thought about it the less sense it made. Only by thinking with the face value though.    Right now, Satanick was being careful, and genuinely had concerns, they joked and jabbed at each other too. He can be friends with the devil himself, but why was it the opposite with Fumus? Taffy had dazed in thought for so long that he nearly missed what Satanick had uttered. “You’re glad...?”

   The grip on the coffee pot’s handle had tightened at not just one- but two threats rearing their ugly heads. An uncomfortable stillness settled in the room. If Fumus wanted to work, who was he to stop the god? With that thought in mind, Taffy said nothing as trembling hands tipped the coffeepot and slowly filled the mug. Still, he didn’t understand why Fumus wanted to get back to work immediately....

“Have a look...?”    There was evident uncertainty, but this was the very same devil that snatched him away before. He wasn’t fond of the idea, but... “...I suppose, just be careful, that’s all I ask.”

   He did it again- Taffy tensed instinctively, fully conscious thanks to the realization of what slipped out. Here he thought the god would be too exhausted. “No!... It’s only that I thought you’d rest so I went ahead and had your sheets washed and your bed made.” Still, no coffee was poured into the awaiting mug.

   Taffy took the moment to glance at Fumus but quickly focused on the mug sitting on the desk. He really did seem exhausted... Was it ideal to give him coffee? The seraph hesitated when he brought the coffee pot up and held it carefully in hand with a bunched up hand towel. “I see... Wouldn’t it be better to rest up then?”

   Today is the day. The trip seemed longer than usual, which was... strange, given who it was that Fumus went to visit. Yet, Taffy said nothing as he fell back into routine- a coffeepot in hand and three spare mugs hooked on a finger. One was neatly set on the corner of the god’s desk, “Welcome back... Did everything go well?”

   By now, Taffy would have caved and silenced the demon, just hearing him babble on was enough to make the tempting thought seem feasible any second. “You’re using time as proof that I’m unable to kill you?...” He murmured lowly, realizing that killing the nuisance wouldn’t yield any answers he needs. “Anten,” Fuck, his skin crawled just saying that name, “You might be alive, but it seems like your wit didn’t come back with you.”

   Taffy shot the lord devil a scrutinizing look, for what exactly- between the confirmation Satanick does work and bringing up his lacking sleep schedule- it’s unclear. But after a long drawn moment of silence, the seraph shakily closed his wings, “Fumus has been preoccupied with work, so thanks to that it’s not so bad... and I’ve been able to rest more. These wounds aren’t fresh, just healing,” He finally admitted. To think he can talk so casually with the devil and yet with the god...

   Graceful as ever, wasn’t he? Taffy clicked his tongue and took a step back from the flailing demon, the aggravation did well hiding the thousands of questions running through his mind. The one that stood out the most, however, was how is the bastard was still alive? “It’s inconvenient, if anything... But if it means watching the life drain from your eyes, I can tolerate it.”

“Seeing your face brings unpleasant thoughts… I’m sick of seeing it. Get out of my sight, unless you’re some masochist.”

“... Someone’s getting ahead of themselves.”

   He apologized? Indeed he did, but the devil was always strange with him so the observation was dismissed immediately. “Work will keep you busy, but I’m no so sure you know that,” He quipped and muttered his gratitude under a sigh for being helped up. It was a half joke, half jab at Satanick’s habits. Taffy’s own way of humor.