{{Using Dark!Cerb for this not apologizing}}
Now this was not a situation he had expected them to be in. They had been hiding from another demon because the prince had to say something to piss it off, and if you were one who lived in the Ice Hell, you would know that it was not a good idea to draw attention to yourself. His cheeks slowly flushed because of how close they were in this tight closet; whoever created it deserved to freeze to death in his opinion. “Dammit Spark, ya had to go and run yer mouth didn’t ya? Now look where we are, hiding in a closet tryin' to avoid a high-up hound,” he growled.
"What are you blaming me for?" he hissed. "You're the one that said I should put my mouth to 'good use', and that's what I did! Were you expecting anything else?" It didn't occur to him that the answer was 'yes', considering his already demonstrated inexperience with double entendres and the concept of dirty talk in general (who has time for that?), but getting a real answer wasn't important. He fidgeted in place, trying to worm his way out of the vise grip the hellhound had on his cloak. Cerberus's claws dug in deep to the thick fabric and frost was covering the cloak just underneath his palm and around his fingers; he'd been in a very serious hurry to get Alastor out of sight, and himself as well. Safe to assume Al was pretty much frozen in place, more than he already was. "You're awful! I would have put that devil down like the dog it was if only you hadn't intervened. It couldn't possibly be any stronger than me. Than you, maybe, but not me."