#askthedemonologist

That poor man had been in the hospital, in and out of comas, struck by lightening, homeless, hurting, putting up with Satan this whole damn time... and the last thing that Zalgo had done was attack him.

He was gonna leave it alone until Adrian got back home and Jeff finished building the flat.  He was gonna let Adrian recover before Zalgo stepped in there and stumbled all over himself trying to apologize.  He was gonna figure out what the fuck he was gonna say first, but what even could he say?  "Hey, sweetie, sorry about when I tried to corrupt you.  That was so crazy!  I dunno what I was thinking!  Haha!  Do you wanna go get some new shoes?"

That wasn't gonna fucking work worth shit.

Even so, he found himself standing borderline tearfully before the unfinished flat, staring up at the half-shingled roof.  He clutched a note tightly in his hands and gathered all of his courage in one breath before he finally slipped through the door.  He'd leave the note on his desk, and it'd be overwith.  Adrian'd read it when he got back, mull over it a little bit, and then hopefullly forgive him.  It was fine, they'd talked about serious stuff through letters befo--

The god froze to the spot as soon as he recognized movement in the building.  Jeff was gone.  Everyone else was gone too - they should have been, anyway, because it was fucking late.  Wary and confused, he crept toward the open doorway, phasing into the wall and taking a peek through.

Name: AdrianRingtone:  Preloaded onto phone.  Likely standard.Picture: 

Being one of the few capable of opening and closing gates to Hell as he pleased, Beelzebub should probably consider himself somewhat lucky. However, even for a demon such as him, there were a few flings to it.

For instance, not every place on Earth was suited to open a portal without being left with some serious cracks in its matrix - and not every spot could stand a fresh door being formed from the other side either. Beelzebub never knew where he would end up on his way upstairs, which wasn't that much of a problem considering he could easily switch places once he had set foot on earth.

Still, stepping into a random family's kitchen out of nowhere while dinner was being served, or other strange encounters of the kind, proved to be slightly bothersome and time consuming.

Even now, the lord of flies had no true clue about where exactly he had ended up, though asking the pair of eyes (and the person connected to those) staring at him might be a way to solve the problem.

"Like fuck he is.  He has been gone for way too long.  Way too fucking long, you hear me?  Somethin's happened.  He's dying or dead somewhere and he left no clues to where he is, like the fucking difficult piece of shit he is--"

Babe, stop.  Listen to yourself for a second, stop and breathe...

"No, okay?  He's fucking gone, I can't fix shit this ti--"

Jeffrey Anthony Blackwell.

Jeff cringed at the multitoned scold ringing through his head, and he gave a heavy sigh when it slowed his steps mere blocks from the slowly reforming shell of his home.  His hands were shoved in his pockets, his head hung low and face hidden as worry contorted the standard mangle.  Yeah, yeah, so he was worried.  So what?  Adrian was way too weak to be somewhere on his own, and he just up and left without telling anybody anything?  Little dumbass...

Jeff...

The soft concern of the god's voice lifted the killer's chin to the sky.

He's okay.  He's got his own stuff to work out, and he'll be back after.  If he's gone for too much longer, I'll help you look myself.  For now, just go back to the flat.  You've had a long night.  Forget about that kill earlier, forget about Adrian, just... chill out a little.  Come home when you're ready to get some sleep.  I love you and I'll see you later.

He swore it was the only thing that could make him smile like that.

"...  'Kay.  Love you too, Zalgo."

He had to admit that the rest of the snowy steps back to the almost-flat were a whole lot lighter.  And...  jazzier?

Wait, was that music?

Jeff narrowed his eyes, his steps becoming lighter and warier as it slowly became certain that the out-of-place jazz was drifting through the cold London air from an open door of the unfinished flat.  He was certain if anybody was still there working that day that they weren't listening to that shit.  Nobody he knew listened to that shit.

"Alright, I'm gonna give you two seconds to--"

Jeff stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Adrian behind the damn desk.

Jeff had not lied about the state of the house.  

Repairs had been made, and everything was coming along pretty smoothly.  It was easy to get in - though the state of Adrian's valuables hadn't been her immediate concern, it had been the basement.  For the most part, it cancelled a lot of sound, and it was certainly out of sight.  There was really no reason why she wasn't going to take advantage of this, even if was really just a temporary thing.  

Breaking into someone's house so you could kill people and eat them was probably not a nice thing, but Adrian would totally understand.  If he ever found out.  She wasn't going to tell him and she doubted anyone else would.

But, that wasn't a current concern.  She was more interested in how this guy had gotten so delicious.  He wasn't answering - just giving short gasps and the like.  The sound was punctuated by the brief creak of steps and she looked up, swallowing.

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