“It is your own fault for striking deals with anyone and their uncle. Perhaps you should screen your clients better,” Jean said, bored. She glanced at him briefly, then turned her hand over to inspect her nails, a theatrical gesture, yet at the same time, somehow natural. So far, she hadn’t spared the human a single glance from the moment the girl was brought into the room by a couple of Atticus’s lackeys. Jean did not despise the flesh bags the same way Atticus did (after all, she had been one herself a few centuries ago) but they absolutely bored her out of her mind. There was no variety. They all ended up sniveling, sobbing, pleading messes on the floor, and once you had seen one human break you had seen them all. The demoness brushed back her sleek hair, a lazy gesture in harmony with the disinterested look on her face, and finally turned to the girl. “Will you please answer him so we can move this along? Unlike Atticus here, I have actual work to do and don’t have time to play.”
Jean’s commentary caused Atticus to turn his head slightly, watching her out of the corner of his eye. A slow smile surfaced while the colour of his eyes darkened significantly, lending his smile a far more sinister air. “Perhaps that’ll be your new job.” He teased, the tone at odds with the warning his eyes represented. Usually, Atticus liked to use the strengths of the individual demons in his employ, and he attributed a lot of his success to that fact, but he had no qualms about demoting Jean for a time. Whether or not there was an immediate likelihood of that happening, however, wasn’t made clear. Then he turned his attention back to the sobbing human, another smile on his lips, eyes cold but attentive at Jean spoke again. The human sniffled, shaking slightly as she looked to Jean. “I-I...” Then she broke into another bout of crying, curling in on herself, hands in her lap, head bent in deference. Atticus clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Come on now, love. All you had to do was get me a bit of information.” He pushed back his chair and stood, rounding the desk to approach the human. “You could have been done with it by now.” Well, until the next assignment anyway. The human looked up, eyes wide and pleading. “I can’t...” she whispered, and Atticus nodded sympathetically. “Can’t? or won’t?” She sighed, bending her head again. A moment passed before she spoke quietly, just as Atticus reached her; “Both.” The demon reached down, easing his hand down over the back of her head before suddenly curling his finger around her hair, yanking her onto her feet in one swift motion. The human screamed, scrambling to stand. “Don’t... plea-” was all she managed to get out before atticus held up his hand, suddenly holding her torn tongue. Gargling, she coughed up blood, crumbling onto her knees again as Atticus let go of her hair and dropped her tongue onto the floor before her with a dramatic sigh, as though she’d forced him to exert himself needlessly. “Now -” he turned back around to Jean, “what’d you need?”
