#c:gin

[bloodofheavenandhell]

Red {for gin}

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Red = violent

Gin was not a fighter. His crimes never evolved past burglary. He left the fighting and assault to other people. Given his lack of fighting skills, it was no surprise that he was now having the crap beat out of him by a biker gang. What was the use of being a demon when a motley group of humans could walk all over him? He spat out blood as he landed on the floor. As a biker stepped on his arm, a loud snapping made it clear his meatsuit’s arm was broken. 

Could this day get any worse? Damn. Why did he think that? Of course it would!

[bloodofheavenandhell]

anightinshiningamor liked for a starter

Gin could never say no to a bet. It was in his blood, as far as he could tell considering he never knew his father. A bet was what got him into this life. And he never learned the lesson that he should give up the hobby. He crossed his arms as he watched the crowd at the bar. Then he leaned over to his left and spoke in a hushed tone. 

         “I’ll lay ya three ta one odds that the spifficated fella           over there falls no less than three times while heading           out the door.” 

[bloodofheavenandhell]

The demon whistled as if trying to lure a dog. His movements were just short of being frantic. If his superiors found out he let a Hell-Hound get loose, he would be killed.

       “Here Hell-Hound! Come here, boy!”