Chapter 9: Libido

The office to IMP was sparsely but tastefully decorated, Blitzo looked it over with unabashed pride. Blitzo had not blown all his share on garbage and tacky junk, to the surprise of everyone. Instead, he'd hired some of the best decorators in Hell to assemble for him a tasteful but easily replaced set of furniture and the like, since it was all inevitably going to catch fire or some other such nonsense. Blitzo may well be a fool, but he had basic pattern recognition, at least. Blitzo did, however, splurge on their weaponry. He made his way over to the armory, a huge steel vault he had specially made and installed by the finest smiths in Greed, if anyone knew how to make a safe safe, it was those stingy assholes. He reached out for the key-pad.

"One-one-one… uh…" Blitzo tapped his chin as he strained to recall. "Oh! One."

The lock beeped and flashed green, the foot-thick steel door hissed and swung open, the glittering contents shining in his eyes. "Yeah baby…"

Ever since that fateful mission, weaponry had never been a problem, and not because they became the most well-funded imp-run anything over the course of a single afternoon, either. No, M&M's seven-and-a-half foot tall 'baby' Gabriel saw to that. The sole surviving Junior they had adopted could turn any matter into any other form of matter, including guns, bombs, and all manner of weaponry.

Keeping an armory stocked was piss-easy and cheap-as-free when one of his employees could literally pull grenades out of thin air. The armory was for something not even Gabriel could replicate. The shelves were stocked with tens of thousands of rounds of ammunition of all types, the racks festooned with every melee weapon from axes to zhuas. The catch? Every last implement of death was crafted from Seraphim Steel.

So deadly.

So expensive.

He'd literally spent his entire share on the armory.

Worth it.

"Are you jacking off to your weapons again?" Loona growled from outside the huge safe.

"No!" Blitzo shouted, discretely doing up his fly. "Have M&M called back? I want to get underway with this new job ASAP! We can't afford to get behind schedule."

It was true. Ever since they'd returned victorious, La Squadra had done their level best to send business their way, and with their new armament and reputation, IMP could pick and choose their jobs and pay. Truth be told, no-one in that office ever needed to work again. But, as Blitzo's father always said 'if you love your job, you'll never work a day in your life!' A line he'd always bust out just before practicing throwing knives as Blitzo spun on a target board.

"Yeah, they disposed of the body and were on their way when they called," said Loona, disinterestedly. "That was, like, twenty minutes ago."

"Good!" Blitzo grinned, toothily. "I wanna kill this senator so bad my dick is grinding its teeth!"

"Ugh! You're so gross!"

Blitzo's hellphone screamed bloody murder as a call came in.

"God damnnit…" Blitzo sighed and checked the screen; it was Stolas. He answered. "What?!"

"Bllllit-zeeee…" the owl crooned. "Blitzy-Blitzy-Blitzy~"

"I'm very busy right now, Stolas," Blitzo said, marching out of the vault. "What do you want?"

"I'm looooonely Blitzy~" Stolas said, a slur now very evident in his lilting voice. "Youuuu shhhhould come on over and cooooome in meee. Ho-ho-ho!"

"Are you drunk?"

"No!" The sound of a bottle clicking against a beak sounded, followed by a series of hearty gulps. "I'm drinking. Preshin-tents. It's a fantashtic vintedge, youshhh oold try shum."

Blitzo considered this for a second, he'd seen the owl cock-drunk before, but not drank-drunk. "Okay, I'm listening. Why're you hammered?"

"Neffermind! Blitzy, listen, Moonie was ofer erlee er," Stolas babbled, the sound of sloshing liquid underscoring his no-doubt vibrant gesticulating. "Mmmy hawt little shecretary. Stella says heees prodi jusly endooed. I wannid you and I to play wiffim but he's gone now!"

Blitzo couldn't help but smile at the idea of having a tumble with the effeminate fishboy; maybe he'd cry! "Did you now? Hey, why don't you call him back over, ya done piqued my interest!"

"He doesn't havva phoooone, Blitzy," Stolas chuckled, his voice taking on that familiar lurid edge. "I woke up wannin a treeshum where you and I (BLEEP) with his (BLEEP) and (BLEEP) me (BLEEP) Eiffel Tower with (BLEEP) hard and fast (BLEEP) choking on both your (BLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP)(BLEEP)(BLEEEEEEEEEEP) Hot and wet (BLEEP) pass your (BLEEP) back and forth in my–"

"Well, hey," Blitzo interrupted, now certain that Stolas wasn't actually serious about this perverted tirade, as usual. "There's always next time, right?"

There was a pause, a sound not unlike a sob, when Stolas spoke again, his voice was low and quiet. "Come over, Blitzy. I want to see you. Please?"

"Sorry, can't!" Blitzo said, shaking his head. "Gotta job today, and no, you can't pay me off this time. I'm a lot of things, Stolas, a first and foremost I'm a profes–"

"I'll wear the bridle this time~" Stolas crooned.

Blitzo's eyes snapped open wide, the phone shaking in his hand as a sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead. "E-excuse me?"

"I said, I'll wear the bridle this time," said Stolas, before adding, lasciviously: "And the saddle."

Blitzo's stood in stunned silence, his red face flushing an even deeper shade of crimson. "I'll be right over."

Blitzo punched his finger clean through the phone before throwing it away and running out the door as fast as he could.

"Where are you going?!" Loona called after him. "The idiots are, like, five minutes away!"

"TheycanhandlethisoneIbelieveinthembeinbedbytenloveyoubyyye!"

Loona sighed and rolled her eyes, she didn't care. "Bed by ten? Fuck that."

Moonchild's head whipped around as he was dragged through the 6th Level. With a ten thousand soul buy-in for access, everyone here looked impossibly fancy. Given what his job was, he was used to fabulous wealth, but the Goetia family preferred regal stylings and tasteful displays of wealth and power.

Not these demons.

Vulgarians, his lord would call them, and their displays of wealth were exactly that, vulgar. Fur coats, hand-made suits, gold and jewels and fine silks in garish colors. These demons fought and killed and fornicated for their wealth, they had earned it in blood and other bodily fluids, and they were going to flaunt it!

Despite himself, his instinctive shyness and apprehensions about being around such creatures, Moonchild found himself being drawn in by the brazen displays of wealth and power, the confidence, the revelry. These demons had started out just like him, as nothing, as weaklings, and had taken what they wanted from the infernal plane. How many had gotten their start in this very casino, making their first fortune at these very tables?

"Heeey!" A feminine voice crowed over the clamor. "Angel! Heeeeey Aaaaangel!"

"Get the fuck out…" Angel muttered, a huge grin spreading across his perfect features. "Cherri?!"

A buxom, fierce-looking cyclops waved frantically to them from across the floor, fireworks and flares blazing in the air above her. "Over here, you dumb slut!"

"Ya crazy fuck!" Angel cackled, running over to her, dragging Moonchild along by the hand.

The two embraced and laughed, Angel pinching her cheek while she fondled his 'tits'.

"Lookit you, all dolled up!" She said, looking him up and down. "You working?"

"Naw! We're just out havin' fun," said Angel, looking her up and down. "Damn girl, yer rockin' that look!"

Cherri struck a pose, showing off her long, muscular legs, shod in knee-high Ravage-11 boots and tattered stockings climbing up into an equally worn-but-tasteful red leather skirt. Her top was the same battle-worn low-cut tank-top, but over it she wore a studded black leather jacket, on her hands were fingerless black leather gloves.

"Hellbent for leather, eh?" Angel said, wryly.

"My old look was fine, but I figured that now I'm a ganglord I gotta look the bad-bitch part, yeah?"

Angel's grin widened, somehow, and he rushed forward, grabbing her shoulders. "Yer a ganglord now?! When? How?"

She waved them over to her table where a small entourage of pimped-out Egg-Bois sat, ineptly trying to look intimidating. Angel sneered in disbelief when Cherri reached into her pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a poker chip. She ran her thumb down its surface and tossed it to the floor. The chip pulsated and expanded like rising dough, the amorphous mass eventually taking shape, firming up as color faded into its pale white surface. Laying on the ground before them was Sir Pentious, his usual pinstripe suit replaced with a decidedly slutty punk get-up that was essentially few strips of leather held together with fishnet and tattered nylon.

"Urgh…" the naga gurgled, his mascaraed eyes snapping open. "Where are we?! What's going on?!"

"Up you get, Penny."

Pentious went stiff and lurched upright like a puppet on strings, his face relaxed along with his body before shifting into a paroxysm of impotent rage. "Ssssstop that! I thought we were going to plan our nesssssxt campaign tonight! It's important we head off the Gadzooks Gang at the Caym–"

"Shh." Cherri put a finger to her lips. "We're taking the night off."

Pentious' lips snapped shut as though zipped, his eyes screaming bloody murder.

"Go get us some drinks, will you?"

Moonchild peered out from behind Angel."But Mr. Husk already–"

Angel clapped a hand over his mouth and laughed. "Freedrinksshaddup–two Dirty Shirleys, double-strength for one, half-shot for the other."

"Everclear on the rocks with a lemon wedge," said Cherri. "And get yourself something nice, 'kay Noodle?"

Sir Pentious grumbled and slithered away into the crowd, Angel watched with a manic grin, he turned to Cherri, jabbing a thumb at the servile serpent. "The fuck?"

"A while back, I had an old associate put the ol' shit twizzler under a spell or something," said Cherri grinning toothily. "When I say, he turns back into a poker chip, and whatever I write on the poker chip, he has to do. I wrote 'obey', so he obeys."

"And now yer, what, partners?" Angel said, incredulous.

Cherri shrugged. "More like 'I control him and his army of eggy dipshits'."

"Boss-Lady is talkin' about us!" One of the Egg Bois said, smiling.

"Woo!" Cheered another.

"I long for death!" Another said, a placid grin on his face. "Please, Mistress, step on me!"

"Combine his tech with my badassery (as well as a plot of territory Trouble's gang sent my way for service) and you got yourself a new ganglord!" Cherri leaned back in her seat and crossed her legs. "But enough about me, what's new with you?"

"Rehab sucks, the usual," nodding his head at the little fish demon sitting next to him. "Me and anudda Hazbin are just havin' a night on the town, just us girls."

"And Mr. Husk," said Moonchild. "He's our sponsor."

"Who's this?" Cherri said to Angel, leaning on the table, resting her chin on her hands as she looked Moonchild up and down. "He's adorable. I want one."

"I'm Moonchild," he said, slightly uncomfortable now that he had the intimidating demoness's direct attention. "I'm a patient at the Happy Hotel."

"Oh, are you now?" Cherri said, amused. "And what's a sweet thing like you down here for?"

"I was the underboss for Passione."

Cherri's eye snapped open, she glanced at Angel who nodded, a grin on his face. Cherri threw her head back and laughed. "You really can't judge a book by its cover! Tell me, kid, how'd you land that gig?"

"I…" Moonchild's eyes flashed green for a moment. "I…"

"Hey arright!" Angel broke in. "Drinks are here!"

Sir Pentious set the tray down on the table, placing the drinks in front of each of them, a round of shots for the Egg Bois, before grabbing a single long flute of pale green liquid for himself.

"What didja get, Penny?" Said Cherri, squeezing the lemon wedge into her grain alcohol.

"Death in the Afternoon," Pentious hissed, pleased with himself. "Absinthe and champagne."

"Champagne for your true friends!" Cherri said, raising her glass.

"True pain for your sham friends!" Pentious cackled, clinking his to hers.

They both laughed and took a sip, the three Egg Bois knocking back their shots and cheering.

Angel's eyes darted back and forth between them, a look of horror spreading across his face. "Are the two a yous… togedda?"

Cherri and Pentious's eyes went wide as they glanced at each other and then back to Angel.

"HMS Penny-Bomb, ahoooooy!" Egg Boi #1 crowed. "Smooooth sailin'! No icebergs!"

Egg Boi #2 whooped and clapped his hands. "Boss Man says he hates it, but he likes being told what to do!"

"She steps on him allll the time," grumbled Egg Boi #3. "Usually in their bedroom, when they think no-one's lookin'. Why can't she step on meeee?"

Sir Pentious growled and drew a ray pistol. A hissing stream of crimson energy lanced out and disintegrated the offending eggs in an instant. Sir Pentious holstered his weapon and crossed his arms. "Our working relationship issss none of your business, whore!"

Cherri gestured indecisively. "It's… complicated."

"Alright, alright, forget I asked!" Angel said, taking a gulp of his Dirty Shirley. "S'like walkin' in on your parents fuckin'."

"Where's Mr. Husk?" Moonchild looked around, but almost everyone else in the establishment was at least a foot taller than him. "Angel?"

"Aight," said Angel standing up to look. "Nah, can't see 'im. Hold on."

Angel crouched down and leapt high into the air, at least thirty feet. He set back down with a surprising grace, the expression on his face annoyed. "The alky pissant's at a poker table. Dumbass is gonna piss away all our winnin's!"

"I'll go get him!" Moonchild said. "Back in a sec!"

Moonchild got up and took off into the crowd. About ten seconds later he ran back to the table. "Which poker table?"

"Seven."

"Thanks!"

They watched him leave, an unmistakable leer on Angel's face. "Hate t'see 'im leave…"

"Loooove watchin' him go," Cherri chuckled. "That get-up, that was you?"

"You know it sister!"

"That wasss a guy?!"

Husk sipped his scotch and glared at the demon sitting opposite him, shuffling a deck of cards.

Poker Face noticed and grinned. "Surprised to see me?"

"Not really," Husk said, knocking back his scotch in one gulp. "Wouldn't be the first time a turd resurfaced after a flush."

Poker Face threw his head back and laughed. "You always were a smartass, Husk. I like that about you."

"I'm touched," said Husk, waving down a waiter. "What's your most expensive scotch?"

"That would be the Bunnahabhain 25 Year, sir. One hundred souls an ounce."

"Double shot'a of the Bunny-hazbin," Husk said, looking over to Poker Face. "You got the tab, right?"

Poker Face smirked and nodded. "Indulge yourself, my friend."

The waiter left and Husk wove his fingers together atop the table. "So, what, you out for revenge?"

"You fed me to a goat and I had to get pulled out of sewage," Poker Face growled. "What do you think?"

"Here? Now?" Husk said, pointing at the ceiling, at the security cameras scanning from their black spheres. "Try anything that disrupts the flow of money, and yer out on yer ear."

"No no no, my friend," Poker Face leaned forward, for a moment allowing the black, bottomless hate within him shine through his affable facade. "I've got something special planned for you. When the time comes, I gonna enjoy myself, make an event of it. We're not through, you and I, not by a sight."

Husk rolled his eyes, this wasn't the first 'nemesis spiel' he'd heard. "So, why call me over? Why cover my tab?"

"I'm being coy," said Poker Face, setting his deck down. "Also, believe it or not, I actually like playing against you. Not often I meet a fellow cardshark."

"I'm flattered."

"Yeah, don't be. So, how about a friendly game?"

Husk sneered, he knew this guy's rules, how his powers worked; the default prize was souls, so establishing the stakes clearly was vital. "What's the prize?"

Poker Face rolled his eyes. "I don't want your pickled soul, if that's what you're worried about. Not yet, anyway."

"Then what do you want?"

"Not your soul, maybe money, maybe something else." Poker Face, rolling one of the soul chips on his fingers. "What do you say?"

Part of Husk screamed at him not to go for it, that he was up to something, that this was a stupid unnecessary risk. But another, loathsomely familiar part of himself relished the risk, the challenge, craved it, even. All night he'd been pretending to play to make money, and he'd be lying if he said it hadn't whet his appetite for the real deal, for the rush of a clean win. And what better rush that the heady threat of mortal danger? The need roared at him from the bottom of his soul, silencing any attempt at dissuasion.

"Well…" Husk said, licking his lips, a nasty grin spreading across his face. "Let's–"

"Mr. Husk!" A familiar voice called out over the din of the casino. "Mr. Husk!"

They both turned to see Moonchild running over. Husk was snapped out of his focus upon seeing the fish-demon, his incumbent gambler's high doused as though with ice-water. What the fuck was he doing?! Playing against Poker Face was a shit idea at the best of times, but doing so while he was currently trying to scam the casino out of a fortune? He was already in enough danger, thank you very much!

"Moonie?"

"Angel and I were waiting for you," he said, looking over at Poker Face. "Is this guy a friend of yours?"

Poker Face looked Moonchild up and down, a leering smile spreading across his face, biting his lip as he drank him in. "Oh, yeah. I'm real friendly. Say, cutie, wanna play a game?"

"Moonie–!" Husk exclaimed.

"Sure!" Moonchild said, smiling.

He pulled out a poker chip, showing both sides. "Heads… tails. Guess right, that's fifty bucks. Guess wrong, well, I win. Sound good?"

"Sounds great!"

He flipped the chip and caught it, slamming his hand down on the table. "Call it."

"Moonchild, don't–"

"Tails!"

Poker Face smirked and removed his hand: tails. "Lucky guess. Best two out of three?"

"Sure!"

He flipped again, and again Moonchild said: "Tails!"

"Huh. Tails…" Poker Face eyed up the pretty little demon. "How about a different game?"

"Okay!" Moonchild chirped.

Three cards were set down, an ace of hearts, and ace of clubs, and an ace of spades. "Keep your eye on the ace of spades."

Poker Face flipped all three and shifted the cards about, over, under, over, side to side, middle out, right to left. "Where's the ace, doll?"

"Here." Moonchild flicked over the middle card, revealing the ace of spades.

"I can see how you got up here, Husk," Poker Face snarled. "Got yourself a good luck charm. Again!"

"Okay!"

"Ace of hearts!" Poker Face's hands were a blur, the cards danced across the green felt, ducking under one another before shifting and hopping, exchanging places. "Where is it!?"

Moonchild flicked the card on the right over. "Right here."

Husk clapped his hand over his mouth as he bit back a laugh, the look on Poker Face's mug was something he wished he could bottle.

Poker Face growled and jabbed a finger at Moonchild. "One more time! All or nothing!"

"Okay!" Moonchild said, a sweet smile on his face, seemingly unaware of his opponent's rancor.

Once again the cards were a blur of movement, Poker Face's considerable dexterity on full display as he kept all three moving simultaneously. With a flourish he slammed his hand down on the table, grinning maliciously. "Ace of hearts!"

"Waitaminute!" Husk cried. "You can't shift the cards and then tell him to call!"

"Oh, yes I can," Poker Face sneered, pointing at Moonchild. "Now, make your call. Where is it?"

Moonchild studied the cards, head cocked to the side. "Hmmm…"

Poker Face smirked and held out his hand, eyes glinting. "Call or forfeit, kid. What'll it be?"

Moonchild sighed and reached for the extended hand, Poker Face's smirk blossoming into a black grin. "Awww shucks, too bad, huh?"

Moonchild's hand brushed by his and reached up his sleeve, pulling out an ace of hearts. "Oh? How'd this get in there?"

Poker Face gawped as he set the card down and flipped the other three, revealing the ace of clubs had been doubled. "How…?"

Husk drew in behind Moonchild, draping an arm over his shoulders, drawing the scantily-clad demon close. "Sorry, 'Face, I done forgot to introduce Moonchild. My, uh, my apprentice! Yeah, that's it."

"Your what?" Poker Face spat.

Husk nodded pointing to Moonchild and then himself. "Taught 'im everythin' I know. A mechanic the likes a ya couldn't hope to pull one over on us, right kid?"

"That's right!" Moonchild said, forcefully, snapping his fingers. "We're just too good!"

He reached out behind himself, not taking his eyes off Poker Face, and snatched a tumbler glass off the tray of the approaching waiter, knocking back the expensive contents in a single gulp. Husk barely kept it together as Moonchild was clearly struggling with the alcohol burn of what he suspected was his double-scotch, the little demon put up a stoic face regardless.

Poker Face glowered at them for a moment before what might have been a friendly smile spread across his mug, the warmth of the grin offset somewhat by the icy hatred radiating out of his beady lizard eyes. He threw his hands up and stood. "Two Husks! Hell isn't ready. Oh, well, I know when I'm beat! Look, you two crazy kids have yourself a wonderful night, I'll show myself out."

Poker Face got to his feet and offered his hand. "Put 'er there."

Husk eyed his hand for a moment before taking it. Poker Face grasped his hand with an amicable pressure, his eyes glinting like bits of broken glass. Suddenly, he reached out with his other hand, grabbing Husk by the shoulder and pulling him in, his mouth right next to his ear, his voice a hissing whisper. "This isn't over, Husk. You and me, we have unfinished business. But for now, live it up, enjoy yourself, because sooner or later it's all gonna come crashing down. For you, for the Princess, for everyone in this God-forsaken pit. HOLY DIVER lives."

With that he stepped back and clapped his hands, snapping his fingers at them, winking. "Hey, you have fun now, that's what games are all about! Don't you worry, Husk, I still got your tab! Eat, drink, and be merry, because you never know what tomorrow holds! Carpe that diem! And you, prettyboy, I'd love to play you again. 'Till then!"

With that Poker Face swaggered away, scooping up the souls and chips he'd won prior, eventually disappearing into the crowd.

"I never got an answer," Moonchild said. "Was he a friend of yours or not?"

When he didn't answer, Moonchild turned around. "Mr. Husk?"

Husk stared straight ahead, his eyes wide, ears flattened against his skull, the look on his face was that of a man who'd seen his own grave.

Moonchild reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "Mr. Husk, what's wrong?"

Husk blinked and shook his head, brusquely brushing his hand off and grabbing the tray with their drinks. "N-nothin'! I'm fine! C'mon, let's go find Angel."

"O-okay…" Moonchild said, quietly, following after.

Husk sighed and turned around, putting a hand on Moonchild's shoulder. "Ya did good just now, kid. Good on ya, not everyone can get under Poker Face's skin like that. Ya got that trick ya do, but it was the way ya sold it that threw him off. Good work, I mean it."

Moonchild beamed, a rosy flush burning in his cheeks, his golden freckles glittering in the casino lights. "Thank you, Mr. Husk. I means a lot coming from someone like you."

Despite himself, Husk smiled back, a strange giddy feeling bubbled up inside him, just seeing this kid happy brought out in him feelings he'd long since thought dead. He laughed and cast an arm and a wing around Moonchild's shoulders, pulling him close. "C'mon, we've left Angel alone for way too long. Who knows what kinda bullshit he's getting up to!"

Moonchild took two steps forward before toppling over, landing face-first on the floor.

"Kid!" Husk exclaimed. "What's wrong?"

"Misser Husk wais th'room schpinnin'?"

Husk thought back to the double scotch the kid had knocked back in his bravado and chuckled, shaking his head as he helped him to his feet. "Yer hammered, Cutie! Well, let's grab a room, we can keep on cleaning this bitch out tomorrow."

"I wasss wrong, Misser Husk," Moonchild slurred as Husk carried him through the casino. "Gamblin's a lotta fun!"

Angel smiled as he lay down on the plush, accommodating hotel bed. He'd wanted to keep the night going, but their ace in the hole went and drank himself into a daze. Angel didn't mind, the Azathoth had room service that was second to none in the West Side, and Husk seemed pleased as punch to allow him to indulge himself. He'd ordered a small bar's worth of booze and full catering, pouring himself a tall glass of bubbly.

"Ahhh…" Angel sighed, sipping the sparkling wine. "I could get used to this."

A snort and a gasp drew his attention over to the love-chair and the small fish-demon presently slouched in it. Husk had dragged the partially conscious trout to their table and told them he was calling it a day and that they'd resume their rampage tomorrow. Angel wasn't about to complain, he'd gotten all he'd wanted out of this little excursion. Well, almost everything.

He'd been in his element, in the spotlight, drawing eyes while his associates went on a tear across the casino floor. He basked in the attention and was now reaping the rewards of good food, soft beds, and hard alcohol. Now all he needed to cap off the night was…

"Wurrrz…" Moonchild muttered, stirring in the seat, his eyes fluttering open. "Snrk! Wha? Where… where am I?"

"Hotel," said Angel, sipping his champagne. "Well, a hotel, not the Hotel. S'part a' the casino."

"Where's Mr. Husk?" Moonchild said, rubbing his temples. "Did I drink too much?"

"Ya sniffed a shot a whiskey and that was that, out like a light," said Angel, amused.

"Oh no!" Moonchild exclaimed, dismayed. "Mr. Husk wanted to play all night. I ruined everything!"

Angel made his way over and sat down next to the moping fish-demon, draping an arm over his shoulders. "Nah, kid, don't sweat it. Mittens said he had t'go dig up some contacts and ask 'em about, I 'unno, some alky bullshit, I wasn't listenin'."

"I don't feel so good…" Moonchild mumbled.

"Here," Angel said, handing him the still-full flute. "That'll ease ya up, then we gotta getcha to eat somethin'."

Moonchild sipped the bubbly, bracing for the taste of alcohol, surprised when there was none. "Oooh… I like this."

Angel watched him as he finished the sparkling wine and smiled. "Hey, kid."

"Yes?"

Angel cupped his face in his hands and leaned in, kissing him passionately. Angel smiled to himself as he felt the smaller demon go stiff with surprise, the kid probably wasn't expecting this! Angel deepened the kiss, his Hell-wide famous tongue snaking its way into his mouth, playfully tracing his sharp little piranha teeth. He waited for his skill to entice Moonchild's inner horndog out and they'd be off to the races.

And waited.

And waited.

Moonchild was still stiff with shock. Okay, so he's shy. No big surprise there. Angel would just have to bust out the big guns. One hand pulled down his top while another pair slid under Moonchild's top. Angel noted appreciatively that despite him being soft as cheese whizz, Moonchild had a nice tight swimmer's bod. The kid was no Kira, but his abs felt plenty tasty. Another hand snaked down the front of his snug Daisy Dukes, grabbing at the sizable handful there. Oh yes, this was going to be a nice cap to the night.

Angel opened his eyes to drink in the kid's no doubt dumbfounded expression, gently nibbling his lower lip. Angel's eyes snapped open in shock. Moonchild didn't look dumbfounded, he didn't look lustful, he didn't even look surprised.

Moonchild was terrified.

"Kid?" Angel withdrew, eyes darting all over the frozen fish-demon. "Moonie, are you okay?"

Moonchild blinked and averted his gaze, seeming to collapse in on himself. "I-I'm sorry, I, uh, I'm okay. Y-you can k-keep going if you want."

Angel stared for a moment, for once in his life at a loss of what to do, what to say. The look in Moonchild's eyes, that distant desperation of someone who was preparing to go away, to pull into themselves until the pain stopped. He'd seen those eyes before.

"Kid… has someone, uh… has someone been hurtin' ya?"

Moonchild said nothing, only nodding. Angel sighed and scooted away, suddenly profoundly ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry, kid. I didn't–I wasn't–I–"

"It's okay, Angel."

"No! No it ain't!" Angel exclaimed, shooting to his feet. "I was just pushing myself on ya, like I knew ya wanted it! I shoulda…"

He looked down at Moonchild, who was trying to make himself look as small as possible, eyes cast down to his feet. Angel felt something bitter and sick clench in his guts, all that fun and camaraderie, all that time spent getting the kid out of his shell, all that progress they could have gone back to Charlie with, triumphant; all that was circling the drain before his eyes, all because he wanted some dick. He felt sick, disgusted with himself.

Angel deflated and sat back down next to him, Moonchild turned away, cradling himself. "Hey. I'm sorry. I, uh… I know how it feels. T'feel like yer someone's property, like yer their toy. To feel so… helpless."

Angel's hands balled into fists, squeezing and squeezing until they trembled, a light hand settled on one of the clenched fists. Angel looked over at Moonchild, his expression distant, and then horrified.

"You do, don't you?" Moonchild said, his tone hushed.

"Ya just used yer power on me, didn't ya?"

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry!"

Angel shook his head, a sour smile on his face. "Naw, it's okay. I mean, if it's you it's okay. 'Cause, y'know what it's like…"

"You haven't told anyone?"

"Well, not like with words or nothin'. Cherri knows, or I think she does, I…" Angel shook his head, laughing bitterly. "It's not somethin' I really talk about. Fuck, I try not to think about it."

"Me too…" Moonchild said, his voice barely a whisper. "I wish I was like you."

Angel started at this, a bemused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Waddaya mean?"

"You've been through what I've been through, worse even, but you're still so… strong. Confident. You can still smile and tell people to fuck off and–and–" Tears, dark and gummy with mascara, rolled down his cheeks. "I wish I could be anyone other than me…"

"Hey, now put that shit t'bed, Moonie! This ain't a game, there ain't no points or scorecard. What I went through don't make what happened to ya any less bullshit!" Angel said, jabbing a finger in his face. "None a'this is yer fault, y'hear? Ya didn't do nothin' to deserve what that shitheel did to ya! It ain't yer fault!"

Moonchild buried his face in his hands and began to sob. Angel wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close, Moonchild buried his face in Angel's chest fluff, his sobs choked and ragged. Angel stroked his neck, soothing him as he tightened the embrace. After a while, his sobs tapered off and he was quiet, his face still buried in Angel's soft, warm chest. Angel was dimly aware that the kid's mascara was probably staining his fur and dress, but didn't care.

"Yer okay, kid, yer okay…" Angel whispered. "Heh… Y'know, I ain't as confident as I let on. I just put up a front so, uh, so I won't get hurt, y'know?"

Moonchild said nothing, Angel continued. "Yeah. See, I don't got many friends… just Cherri, now, really. I keep people away because I think they all want that. Not Cherri, and not… him."

"Him?" Moonchild said, looking up from his chest.

"Kira, the other guy at the hotel," Angel said, his tone become low, wistful. "Cold hearted, stone-faced, no sense a'humor… but, we clicked. He didn't want anythin' I was sellin', but he still wanted to be around me. At first I couldn't really make sense of it, I don't think he understood it either, but there it was. But he's gone now, he got out, and I, uh, I gotta too, I guess. Gotta get out and find my buddy."

"I know you will," Moonchild said, sniffling.

"Thanks kid." Angel nocked a finger under his chin and tilted his gaze up to meet his. "Y'know, it don't gotta be like that. Bein' with someone. It can be a great time if'n yer with someone ya like and if they like ya back."

"You like me?" Moonchild smiled, it was soft and sweet and made Angel's chest feel like it was about to burst.

"What can I say?" Angel chuckled, pinching his mascara-streak cheeks. "Ya done grew on me, ya little barnacle!"

He leaned down and planted a tender kiss on Moonchild's lips, smiling when the smaller demon reciprocated. His hands gently explored Moonchild's frame as he slowly deepened the kiss, prepared to stop at the first sign of hesitation. He broke the kiss and drank in Moonchild's expression, an adorably shy variant of lust he'd never seen before; a nice cap to the evening to be sure.

"Yer in control here, Moonie," Angel whispered. "This stops when ya say stop."

Moonchild nodded and leaned in, their lips almost touching again when a knock sounded at the door.

Angel swore under his breath and smiled apologetically at Moonchild. "That'd be the room service. Hold that thought, will ya? I'll be right back~"

Moonchild blushed and nodded, Angel stood up and sauntered over to the door, not a thing in the world could spoil this night. He opened the door, expecting to see a sharply dressed hotel-worker with a meal cart. Instead, the doorway was filled with the massive, muscular frame of a very familiar minotaur, and behind him were five other hulking demons of various types.

"Oh, uh, hey Bastille," Angel squeaked, his eyes wide. "How're ya holdin' up?"

A huge hand snapped out and fastened around Angel's windpipe, hauling him bodily into the air.

"Oh, nice," Angel croaked, pawing uselessly at his massively muscled arm. "Yer arm's back. Great."

The six demons showed themselves in, the door slamming shut behind them, a 'do not disturb' sign dangling from the knob.