(Untitled)
Demons, like any other group with more than two members, have to contend with gossip. With rumors presented as news and opinions as fact. With stories that have been embellished and embroidered and left the way a meatsuit tends to get left -- in rather less pristine condition than it was found
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Comments 118
Said angel is wearing a T-shirt that reads Sanity is back-ordered. Sarcasm is in unlimited supply.
She's got one elbow propped up on the bar, looking surprisingly comfortable. (Well, it would be surprising to some.)
"Fancy meeting you here. Creature."
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"Hello, darling.
"Come here often?"
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"Often enough for my purposes. And you for yours."
How utterly unanticipated for both of them.
Wait.
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"How the hell have you been, Michael?"
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Guess it was only a matter of time, what with running into an angel, Raven, and Coyote in the past. Looks like he just scored a bingo in the Oh Great Not You Too game.
A crisp snap of a breaking chocolate bar sounds from a bit further down, as he bites into his dinner with great relish.
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The thing is, you have that kind of power, even just sittin' around, you're gonna get a girl's attention.
Even if she's not exactly sure what kind of power you've got.
Oh, but she knows you've got it, darling.
"Didn't your mama ever tell you to chew with your mouth closed?"
It's amused, rathen than angry or annoyed, and accompanied by something that's halfway to a smile.
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If he weren't on a barstool, this is about where he'd kick his feet up onto the table just to be extra-irritating. "Come on, this -- " he shakes the chocolate bar at her -- "always tastes better when you eat it sans manners."
Just ask any five-year-old. They know what's up.
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"The appeal of the forbidden?"
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