Yo sup guys? I've gotten such a good reception to my other two stories. This one was inspired by my inability to paint my own nails about a week or two ago. Haha, I havent done it in so long my hands were atrocious. Anyway, enjoy :33.


"Can you help me, William?" Dantalion's voice slices through the common room, a whisper above the rest. William looks up from his book, vaguely interested in what Dantalion has to say.

"Depends on what it is," the realist replies, bored. Dantalion sighs quietly, holding up a small bottle filled with black liquid.

"I need you to paint my nails." he asks, rubbing his head sheepishly. William gives him a confused glance.

"What?" he questions. Dantalion rolls his eyes and grabs William's arm, hauling him up. William follows the demon somewhat distractedly, slightly flabbergasted at the strange request. He's never done anything of the sort and is unsure of what to expect.

"Baphomet usually does it but he's busy at the moment. I really need someone to help and you're the only choice available." William snorts as Dantalion leads him into the demon's temporary room. It's plain, undecorated, but William doesn't expect it to be furnished. Whoever Dantalion's roommate happens to be, William feels vague pity for them(unless they're another meathead; then he wishes ill intent).

Dantalion gestures for William to sit, taking the book clutched in his hand. He sets it on the bed shoved against the wall, snapping his fingers. A short table and chair materializes out of thin air, which Dantalion sits grandly into. He puts the vial of polish onto the table, waving for William to take it.

"I guess I have no choice now," William mutters, grasping the bottle in his hand. "I won't promise it'll be on the same level as Baphomet but I will try."
William uncaps the top, surprised to find the thin brush. He's not sure of himself as he sets a shaking hand onto Dantalion's nail. With a careful eye, he drags the brush across the protein. The first nail is tough as it is, never mind the other nine.

William scowls, "I suppose Sytry couldn't help you?" Surely the more feminine looking demon actually knows what he's doing. Dantalion mirrors William's scowl.

He scoffs, "I'd never ask anything from him." William sighs, pushing a hand to his brow.

"Of course." William is growing tired of their intense rivalry just the slightest. "Well, I apologize if my job is unsatisfactory." He sticks a tongue out in concentration, dipping the brush in the liquid. He continues quietly, trying to keep his hand from shaking. "This is difficult. How does Baphomet keep a steady hand?"

Dantalion represses the urge to shrug, "Practice. He was quite terrible when he first started." Dantalion smiles fondly at the memory. William flushes, huffing. Without prior experience, he does the best he can, which is a half-decent job. Dantalion's nail polish isn't splattered over his cuticles but there are tiny blemishes in the polish. Dantalion passes a critical eye over the details, nodding to himself.

"This will do for now. Thank you William." Dantalion's smile is gentle, contradicting his demonic nature. William knows this, has seen Dantalion at his worst, but he can't help the heat flowing to his cheeks over the compliment.

"Y-you're welcome, Dantalion." William spins the bottle closed, rising. He grabs his book and attempts a swift exit.

"Oh, William?" Dantalion calls after the Elector has exited the room, "A word?" William turns his heel, trying to distract himself with his book.

"Yes Dantalion?" He doesn't look up, which is how Dantalion is able to press a kiss to his cheek. William blinks, eyes widening.

"I expect a better job next time." Dantalion is smirking, oh so infuriatingly. William's eyebrow twitches in irritation.

"I'll do the best nail job you've ever had!"