IMP: Pinch Perrada

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Crimson nearly chuckled, in awe at the audacity of the other, but he kept it in, and he kept up the poker face, too. He couldn't let Pinch see that he found his brazenness amusing.

"Partners?" Crimson scoffed. "You're funny."

'Partners' implied equality. 'Partners' were two halves of a whole.

Crimson didn't do 'partners.'

"Really, you are."

He plucked a box of cigars out of his pocket and shook it in front of his adversary without fully turning to face him.

"Want a smoke?"

Pinch was free to accept or decline— it was unwise to turn down chivalry from a mob boss, but Crimson truly didn't care if Pinch did or not. He fixed one for himself and then set the pack on the table and blinked at him, crooked tail curling round his side.

"¡Muchas gracias! I haven't eaten since this morning."

With the most unhinged smile ever, Pinch accepted the cigar...

...and proceeded to EAT it.

"Every MINUTE you stall, my offer for bein' civil goes down. Tick Tock!" Yes, Pinch was fully prepared to annoy this man to the brink.

"SURELY, ya gotta be a BUSY man. This can't be how you'd prefer your time to be spent." Pinch was now acting like he just stumbled upon the most thrilling task of his life.

a glance around the place tells her all she needs to know about the imp. first and foremost: vesper shouldn't be here. well, normally people at the bottom of the food chain could never afford her strict fees, yet, in the ring of GREED, money talks louder and clearer than any language known to devilkin. this little fellow has ... potential. and potential can be honed, harnessed, exploited. the gorgon takes her seat without a word, legs crossing with casual elegance as she places her sleek black briefcase on the desk between them.

" first name basis already ? " she asks, arching a brow. her voice is smooth, faintly amused. " how ... forward. " in hindsight, she should have expected the lack of decorum.

Pinch wasn't going to comment on first name formalities, or lack thereof. If available, he'd use the surnames of clients to coax them in...but Vesper was already in his office. Done.

"Señorita Vesper..." Maybe that was better. "You are here due to my letter. Bravo, by the way. Most can't read my HANDWRITING." It was how he got people to sign so many contracts that didn't do the client any favors.

"What I SEEK...no, what I NEED is someone who can get me out of being sued entirely because Uno, I would lose, Dos, I don't have that kinda time, and Tres, even if I don't get sued, my body likely won't be in tact."

“Bottoms up.”

“Don’t go.”

“Why now?”

“Says who?”

“No way.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’m listening.”

“I know!”

“Go away.”

“Go home.”

“You bastard.”

“Fuck me.”

“Stay tonight.”

“Marry me.”

“Of course!”

“Come again?”

“Kill me.”

“Good job.”

“Stay away.”

“Hell no.”

“That’s wonderful!”

“Don’t touch!”

“That’s it!”

“Damn it!”

“Hello, [name.]”

“I’m tired.”

“Screw it.”

“You alright?”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t cry.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Let’s go.”

“Stay here!”

“Be practical.”

“Of course.”

“Let’s sleep.”

“That’s rude.”

“Go on.”

“Help me!”

“Hold on!”

“Goodbye, [name.]”

“Stand down.”

“Oh no.”

“So what?”

“Not now.”

“I’m done.”

“Forget it!”

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Waltzing in here and demanding anything of him was comical. Ballsy.

Crimson looked up from his salad, yellow eyes fixated on the smaller imp without so much as a flicker of emotion.

The diner was quiet, save for the fellow's outburst and the music that was playing overhead. Alessio was somewhere— he'd gone to wash his hands or something.

Crimson could handle himself. He was old for a reason.

Never taking his eyes off him, he took a swig of his water and casually wiped his mouth, and then leaned back in his booth.

"You need to calm down. It'd do you a world of good."

Yes, he remembered him-- this was that hybrid who called himself Pinch. Fitting name for a sleazy businessman. Crimson had dealt with him and hadn't paid, continuously pushing it off. He had the money, but he couldn't be bothered.

He was a mob boss, and if he wanted something for free, he was going to get it.

"Are you stupid?" he questioned, stable, unlike the fiery ball of anger that stood before him. "Unlike you, I don't come solo. The Family don't take kindly to threats. You touch a hair on my head and you're fucked."

"Primera pregunta...am I stupid, no. Am I RECKLESS? Sure, dickwad, who isn't."

If Crimson himself wasn't reckless he wouldn't be the where he is today. He also wouldn't have done business with Pinch Perrada, but here we are!