@marsofolde
Jinx was wearing the skin of a missionary, a deeply pious, faithful man until he’d met the demon, back then under the guise of a member of his flock. For all the powers of the Netherworld that ran through his veins, none of them beat the rush he felt when succeeding in turning someone away from the light.
Misery liked company and all that.
If given the option, he preferred knowing the person he was about to inhabit, were he entirely honest. Many others of his kind never looked beyond the surface and as such some had developed rather distinctive tastes when it came to their vessels. So much so, that Jinx began imagining he would recognize them even without his ability to sense them.
“You’ve an excellent eye, as always, dearest,” a satisfied smirk twisted the corners of his mouth, his gaze washing appreciatively over his fellow demon, rather than the prize she’d saved up for him. After all, Jinx was paying good money for the privilege. Not to mention the infinitely more valuable boon of his presence.
Business concluded, he turned away from the auction floor and walked over to her desk, sitting down and hitching a leg over the edge. “Do you remember Kharvald?” he questioned abruptly, leaning back on his elbows. “Such good times we used to have,” Jinx chuckled with a half-shake of his head. “Do you ever wonder how long it will be until this town becomes too small for us?”