Azazel nodded in agreement as Dantalion explained his faults. All fair and valid but the list was deceptively short, in his opinion.
“Oh, hello there,” Azazel shifted as Simush sniffed him. He was both uncomfortable and, surprising even himself, turned on. He didn’t know this about himself and noted it for a more appropriate time in the future. “Is it a little warm in here, Tal?” The Watcher asked, as he stood in the fiery, infernal abyss where souls were consumed by ever-burning flames.
“I’m excited?” He sounded unsure of himself but he straightened up for the sake of his friend’s reputation. “I mean, yeah I here to help. If I can get a room full of Nephilim to take a nap, I’m sure I can do this!”
Simush looked decidedly unimpressed, but graced him with what might pass as a small smile on their features. “Come inside,” they said, turning back toward the main house with a grace that belied their size. “We’re too understaffed to be picky, and you can thank His Grace for that.” By now, the squadron of toddlers and young children had scattered to the four winds, bored of adult talk and much more interested in playing in the courtyard. Only a pair of especially meek ones clung to Simush’s skirts as they made their way back up the path.
The courtyard was large, and an abrupt departure from the dry, grey streets outside. Ivy of unusual variety and color graced every wall, and here and there, waist-high flower beds held plants (and even a few very pretty fungi) of all kinds. One might think it a miracle in Hell that such things survived the presence of nearly two dozen rambunctious children, but infernal plants did not make their way in life by being easy to kill.
“Simush–” Dantalion tried to cut in, but he was interrupted.
“No, I’ve sent a representative to every single petitioner’s hearing for the past five years; I don’t want to hear it.” And Dantalion didn’t argue back.
The heavy, wooden, double doors of the center opened into an airy atrium, through which Simush led the pair (and their tagalongs) into an office just off the side. On the way through, they snapped the fingers of their free hand a few quick times in succession, and a pair of attendants came to relieve them of their burden.
“Now,” they said, settling into a large chair that had clearly been made to accommodate them. They gestured to the pair of seats on the opposite side of the desk, inviting their guests to sit. The children, unable now to cling, gave one last, wistful look at Simush before wandering back out the door.
“I mean it, this time– Azazel, did His Grace say your name was? Tell me about yourself. And I’ll know if you lie; I spend my life with liars.” All children were liars, in their opinion. It took learning and growth before one could tell the truth. “You smell like taco sauce, by the way.” At this, they did smile.
“Thanks! It’s Taco Bell Mild sauce. But trust me baby, I’m anything but mild.” He winked charmingly at Simush before pulling up a chair. This person seemed way too ‘no-nonsense’ for someone as interesting-looking as them. But Azazel wasn’t one to back down under pressure. He twirled the chair around and sat on it backwards.
“I’m like Honest Abe. I cannot tell a lie. Ask Tal here.” He nodded to his friend without looking at him. “ I prefer oversharing to the point of awkwardness. For instance, I’m an Aquarius in the stars but a Leo at the bars. I once snorted radium off Marie Curie’s ass. Yes, I have written an autobiographical erotic novel about my relationship with Jesus of Nazareth. It’s called “The Second Cumming” and it has a 3.37 rating on Goodreads. And, before you even ask, I totally do feel the sparks between us but please, let’s keep this professional, Simush. If you wanna know what I have on underneath this Jimmy Buffett concert tee, ask me through a drunk text at 3 am like a normal person.”
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