Looking out the window of the 30th floor was always a view he enjoyed. Looking down at the city, tiny people walking around like the little ants they were.
He scratched a finger over the surface of the glass absentmindedly. That is how he felt these days, like they were mere ants; something for him to toy with.
His sight came into focus before the night sky; he saw his reflection in the bay window. He hadn't changed much, his eyes and his face both had gotten thinner and he had grown about a feet and a half. It seemed his body had adjusted after turning into a demon and he must have looked about 23 now and for the past 250 years.
(See "Adult Ciel" on my profile for image)
Strange how so little difference transpired in his appearance when so much time had passed; when he felt so different inside.
Behind him, an old man sitting at his desk was tapping a thoughtful finger on the financial statements of the company. The vast office was surrounded by large windows covering 2 walls, ceiling high libraries were filled with dusty books. Books about investment, economy, accounting, and stocks.
How boring.
The desk where the man sat was the only furniture in the large empty space. "Dammit" the old man broke the silence taking off his glasses and rubbing at the sore spot they leaned on. "Can't you help me with all this? Can't you use your demon abilities to figure it all out and make me rich?"
"I don't have the slightest interest in that." He replied putting his hands in his pockets.
Their contract had come to an end so soon after it was concluded, so soon in fact that the demon had decided to wait for an opportune time to take his prize, they had shaken on a weak promise he couldn't even recall; something about a cheating wife.
But the man was as boring as he was naive. The demon cocked his head sideways at the thought, looking at the reflection of the man who put his glasses back on, turning his attention back to the papers laid in front of him.
"So boring", he thought.
He let his mind wonder for the briefest moment at what he could be doing instead of being here. Hunting for a new prey? Toying with people with another demon? Red eyes came to mind... Before he could gather his thoughts, in a split second, before he even realized what he was doing, he was at the man's side.
He stood next to him, half sitting on the desk, eyes starring ahead; his hand through the accountant's chest.
Standing very still he listened to the pencil the man who stared at him in shock had let go, roll off the table, and finally fall to the ground. Time seemed to have slowed. He was used to the feeling, all his senses being heightened, everything seemed slow when in fact, he was the fast one. He lowered his gaze with his usual cold expression.
No blood came from the wound. No emotions could be read on his impassive face, his thoughts were elsewhere...
"C-Ci-Ci..." the man managed to mumble.
He swiftly turned his catch 90 degrees to break the bound between body and soul. He leaned in and whispered "A human contract isn't worth the paper it is written on, Mister Goldwyn." and ate the man's soul.