Okay, so here it is... The product of countless hours... My baby... Be gentle, I so love her character... It will prove to be more interesting from Bella's side, but you'll understand later. Next chapter, actually. Until hell, but that's not the point.

Enjoy! XoXo

Part One: Angel's Point Of Viewing.

"Okay, so I'm not looking for a casual sex partner, I don't particularly like socialising, I like my home to be neat and tidy, I refuse to pay more than half of the bills or rent and if you bring a girlfriend in, you have to have her out of my sight. And sleep is of importance to me, so if you decide to have random sex with people keep it down, they better not be hookers, you better wash the sheets, and for God's sake- don't touch my things. Understood?" I asked flatly to the man - more like boy, before me.

He blinked stupidly.

"Wha'...?"

"I won't have you roaring drunk or doing drugs in my flat." I told him, narrowing my eyes.

He shrugged then chuckled at the ceiling. I waited, until he came back down to earth again, then repeated my prior statement.

"Well, I'm kinda hooked on pain meds.... nothing too hardcore."

Liar. This ass is lying through his teeth.

"Mr. Vincent, I am a lawyer, I have people to impress." I said boredly. "I need to keep the roof over my head and law abiding citizens along side my company. There's only one king sized bed, so you'll have to share, because I won't rest easily with you sleeping on the couch and I won't rest at all if I'm on there. In fact, I refuse it." I raised an eyebrow. "Are you still with me?"

"No." he said slowly, staring at his hands. "When did those dots get there?"

I sighed. "Good day, Mr. Vincent." Getting up, I turned and almost slammed into a man in blue.

"Excuse me. My fault." I said airily, going to walk around him. He caught just under my elbow, and pulled me to look at him.

I narrowed my eyes at his ice blue ones. "You've got until three to take your hand off, before I break it off." I threatened.

And I was completely capable of doing as such.

"Calm down." He said in such a cold voice it might've rivalled my own. "I'm here for the room mate?"

I tore my arm from his grip and pushed my glasses higher up my nose. That was my angry gesture. Straightening my suit and skirt out, I picked up my brief case.

"Did you hear most of what I said to the charming young man behind me?" I asked coolly.

Said man was laughing loudly at one of the couches. Apparently they were a funny thing, when one was high.

"I did. I agree to your terms." He said in a bitter voice.

I nodded. "Good. It's about time someone stepped up." I replied, opening my pocket book.

I found where I has written down the details of the apartment – where it was, the number – and handed it to him.

He looked at it, then tucked it away in his coat.

"When will you be moving in?"

"As soon as possible."

"Today? After three, though. I can lend you a hand, if you need it."

"No. That won't be necessary. I can settle in to my own devices, thank you."

We regarded the other coolly. I held out my hand.

"Angel Williams."

He took my hand in a surprisingly warm one, and shook it once.

"Vergil Sparda."

I nodded, then checked my watch. "Here is your key. I trust you can find your way home? Or do I need to draw up a map of some sort?"

He shook his head twice, short, sharp movements. "No. I can find my way."

I sighed, and hoisted my purse up my shoulder a little.

"Well, Mr. Sparda, it was nice doing business with you." I nodded.

"What time shall I be expecting you?" he asked boredly.

I rose an eyebrow. "May I enquire why?"

"So I don't try an kill you at four in the morning." He replied.

Hmn. His mask is totally flawless. He might be telling the truth.

"About seven this evening. Anything else?"

"Not at all. Good day."

"Good day, Mr. Sparda."

I turned in my heels, clicking against the floor of the casual-cool coffee club, and walked out with my head held high.

Yes. He seems to be the perfect room mate. I'll give him a chance, and if he screws up I'll kick him out. Perfect.

Vergil Sparda didn't cross my mind at my meeting – discussing a case in which I had to be prepared for in a month- To defend.

By myself.

My boss, Linda Evans, the closest thing I had to a best friend, would study the case as I was, preparing to back me up.

I was defending the man in question, of one count of murder in the second degree, four counts of murder one, and five counts of rape.

This, in my life, was a huge leap into my profession. I couldn't waste anytime with petty ideas about Mr. Sparda, and I wouldn't. I knew what I had to do, and I did it.

Well.

One hundred percent, otherwise in my eyes, it would be a complete failure.