The grimoire laid on the coffee table. Three imps sat at it, all of them staring. Their eyes were focused solely on it. Blitzo's eyes were half-closed, his presence barely there, his hand on top of his mouth. He moved it down and let out a sigh. "…we fucked up."
Moxxie pursed his lips. "We did, sir."
"We… we really fucked up."

Millie chimed in. "Well, we got the grimoire, so we can still do our job-"
Blitzo snapped. "Shut the fuck up, Millie."

Moxxie's eyes widened and he stood up, slamming his hands on the table. "Hey! Don't talk to my wife like that-"

"Yeah, yeah, at least you have one. You're both fuckin' jokes, you know that? You had him. You fuckin' had him in the palm of your hand and you let him go!" Blitzo stood up quickly, fuming, leaning forward and yelling out. "And I'm supposed to feel better about it because you incompetent fucks thought to bring the grimoire!? Huh!? Is that what you're saying!?" The two other imps froze up. "We're not even supposed to fuckin' have these and you're just listing that as a benefit of the job. 'Oh, look sir, look what we got, a stolen fuckin' item that'll have us on every wanted list in Hell', that's fuckin' great!"
Moxxie opened his mouth. "Sir, I-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" The bald imp grits his teeth, slamming his fist into the table before rushing off, opening the door to his office and slamming it behind himself. The remaining imps jolted when he did, Moxxie staring in shock.

A few seconds of silence. Moxxie sits back in his seat, looking down, swallowing. "…he's right, we… we dropped the ball."
Millie gasps out, immediately going to grab Moxxie into a hug. "No, no no, don't say that, Moxx! We did our best, he was just…"
Moxxie starts sobbing.

"Oh gosh, honey, no, don't cry, it's fine…" She squeezes her husband, petting his hair. "It's okay… he's just upset, okay? He doesn't… he doesn't mean it…"

The employer marches back out into the open, back to the table, slamming two pink pieces of paper onto it. "Get out."

Millie squinted at the papers. They read "NOTICE OF TERMINATION". Her eyes widened.

Blitzo stood there for a few moments, silent rage. "…didn't you fuckers hear me? GET." He grabbed the end of the table and yanked it up, flipping the table over on the two imps. "THE FUCK OUT!"

Both Moxxie and Millie scurried out of the way, sprinting out the front door. Loona, on her phone, looked over to her stepdad and rose an eyebrow.

The bald imp spat on the ground. "What are you lookin' at?" The hellhound shrugged. "Just… fuckin' tell me if someone shows up. I'll be in my… I'll be in my office." With that, he stormed down the hallway, walked back into his office, and closed the door.

A cracked can. Brownish-yellow liquid glugging down his throat. The smell of booze and barley. Cans discarded on the floor. An imp slouched in his seat, shirtless, his mind hazy and his eyes glazed over.

This wasn't the first time. It certainly wouldn't be the last. It was a rare moment when Blitzo didn't have a drink in his system. The cheap television in his room, a CRT barely the size of a lunchbox, blasted a staticky mess of entertainment, gossip, corporate jingles, and the news of his failure. Always about Stolas, Stolas, Stolas… he took another swig. It was just barely enclosed by his mouth, dripping down his chin.

Why was he upset? This man was using him. Using him as a sex thing… he didn't actually care… did he? Another swig, another haze blows into the mind. Drowning out that niggling doubt in the back of his head that they were something more… that they could've been anything more. How could anyone love someone like him? Another can discarded, one more opened up. The case was growing lighter.

He was hunched over the toilet. Burning bile spewed from his throat and out of his mouth. How did he get here? There was nothing but liquid. His head was spinning, alcoholic poison flowing through his veins. Another up-chuck. Another spew of liquid. The imp collapsed, sitting at the side of the toilet, sobbing. He cries himself asleep.

A few hours later. The door opens. A hellhound. She carries him out of the bathroom, places him on a couch, blankets him in something. Her lips move but there's no memory of her words. The world fades.