Like a cat, Belphegor stretched, yawning. There was a weight on his chest and an ache everywhere that told him that he hadn't just been sleeping because he was tired. He reached down, fingers idly touching the slender metal band that hung from the necklace at his neck as he wondered just how much blood he must have lost to have passed out like that.

"One pint, two pi-," he paused mid-lit as he lifted the ring to his obscured eyes. It felt different than before.

"That's right!" he whispered to himself, slipping a bony finger through the band with an air of contentment as it rolled neatly on, the chain only a mild irritant to his skin, "The prince was victorious as ever."

"And I'm winning tomorrow," Squalo gruffly intoned from the doorway.

Belphegor's eyes flickered to the taller form of his fellow Varia and a smirk curled over his lips. It would be so fun if the other did fail tomorrow. After all, a flawless victory for the Varia would be too perfect, too simply wrought. A loss would make Xanxus' game seem all the more real.

Besides, he'd like to see the look on Squalo's face if he lost, all red and angry. Oh, before he died, that was. Belphegor closed his fist, shifting it so that the ring could catch a different strain of light. The gun metal gray of the ring didn't catch like most ornaments, but, then again, it was a mafioso's ring. It wouldn't do to have a shiny patch of jewelry giving him away.

He lifted his head away from the bed just enough to press his lips to the surface of the ring.

"You're not scared?" he asked, idly, the ring still dangling freely just scant millimeters from his lips.

"Heh," Squalo snorted, yanking one of the overstuffed chairs that filled Belphegor's temporary suite over and settling in it with a determined flop. He wasn't anywhere close to scared. He'd seen his opponent and the only thing he'd felt was excited, hungry for his fight and ready to finally see the end of this farce, "Don't make me laugh. The sooner I kill that katana-flinging brat, the sooner we'll be back in Italy."

Belphegor was silent, his breath moving the ring in the air back and forth over his lips, "The sooner you'll be the leader of the Varia."

Squalo's eyes widened a bit at that. The thought had been so far from his mind, pushed out of the way in favor of Xanxus this and Xanxus that. He'd given up so much for the other man, pushed aside all his dreams in favor of Xanxus' rage-filled one.

"Maybe I should kill you first," Belphegor mused, breaking Squalo's silence, "I wouldn't mind leading the Varia. Boss' seat looks awfully comfy. A prince's seat."

"Why you-," Squalo growled, starting up from his chair as Belphegor pulled one of his ever-present knives from wherever he seemed to keep them.

"But not now," he hummed, content at seeing the surprise in Squalo's eyes, the sudden uneasiness in the other Varia's expression. He fed off of that, "Let's see if you win first, huh?"

"When I win," Squalo corrected, sharply, still eying the other with a hint of what was that? Fear? Anger? He pushed it out of his mind, "I'll make sure you don't have the chance."

With that, he pushed out of his chair, stalking off down the hall. Belphegor began to snicker again.