Author's Note: Here's the second part! This was a LONG chapter!

Content warning: Almost every character in this chapter is DANGEROUSLY HORNY, you have been warned.

Chapter 20: Constellation Part 2

Charlie watched as Octavia and Moonchild selected a suitable choice. It warmed her heart to see that, despite it all, the dour young demoness was opting to lighten up. Poor thing had a lot on her plate, it wasn't healthy to stew all night.

"Check out Hooty and the Blowfish up there," Angel snickered, sipping a martini. "Ain't puppy love grand?"

"I wonder what they're going to pick," said Vaggie, smirking. "I wouldn't think the library on that thing has anything in her wheelhouse."

"You'd be surprised~" Charlie said, sing-song. "Never underestimate the combination of a crowd-pleasers compilation and a robust selection of showtunes!"

Octavia seemed to make a selection and the opening notes of a familiar song began to play.

"Oooh!" Charlie cheered, clapping. "Dead Girl Walking from Heathers! Good choice!"

Octavia sang the opening lyrics of the song, her voice surprisingly smooth and steady, a long-call from her normal low-toned cadence. "The demon-king of the Hellscape has decreed it/On Tuesday three PM I'll be deleted/They'll hunt me down before you all/Stuff and mount me on the wall/Twenty hours to live, how shall I spend them?"

Vaggie chuckled and shook her head. "A bit on the nose. What's Heathers about again?"

"Those…" Charlie's smile began to fade. "Aren't the lyrics."

Angel nodded approvingly. "Improv! Nice!"

"Here's an option that I like…" Octavia sand, a smile on her face as her voice kicked up an octave and belted. "Spend these twenty hours getting FREEEAAAKAAAY~! YEAH!"

"Whoa!" Angel said, grinning. "Li'l Birdy can sing!"

Octavia worked through the hard, ribald song, beckoning Moonchild in for his lines. To his credit, he came off as convincingly confounded.

"Shut your mouth and lose them tighty-whiiitiiieees!"

"Shows what she knows!" Niffty said, a proud lilt in her voice. "Moonchild sleeps in the nude!"

"Damn!" Vaggie exclaimed, grinning. "She's just dripping off that poor hunk!"

Dazzle fanned himself, eyes fluttering. "Bah~"

"Oh dear," Charlie muttered, a joking smile on her face. "We're going to have to lock the doors to their rooms."

"BITE YOUR TONGUE, PRUDE!" Niffty snarled.

"Normally, I'd be right wit' ya, Bug, but maybe Charlie's gotta point?" Angel said, looking distinctly uncomfortable; the whole table stopped and turned to Angel, their expressions utterly bemused. "What?"

"What?" Vaggie said, shifting from confused to annoyed. "Oh, we're just trying to match what came out of your mouth with everything we know about you."

"I think I'm having a stroke!" Niffty cried.

"Baah!" Razzle bleated, clutching his head.

Only Charlie looked concerned. "What makes you say that, Angel?"

"Oh, just, uh, well…" Angel cleared his throat and gave them a run-down of his brief, tawdry pass at Moonchild back at the Azathoth. "And, yeah, it's all well and good up on a stage, but if Princess Frowns up there tries this approach, I think we's lookin' at a bit of a blow-up."

"I had no idea!" Niffty said, looking horrified. "Poor little guy! Oh, I just wanna pick 'im up and cuddle 'im and squeeze and stroke and caress his… taut, muscular chest~"

"Fuck…" Vaggie said, clapping her hand to her forehead. "I feel like such a fucking scumbag, drooling all over him when he was dolled up… That's it! Charlie, call the bois, we're nailing their doors shut!"

Charlie smiled gently and shook her head. "That won't be necessary, Vaggie. I honestly think Octavia's just getting a bit caught up in the moment, and patient or not, Moonchild's an adult… kind of. Point is, forcing them apart, and now of all times, would hurt more than it could possibly help. Tell you what we're gonna do! Angel, you have the most experience with this sort of thing. Pull Octavia aside and give her a run-down on what to do."

"Roger, cap'n!"

"Vaggie, see what you can do about getting Alastor's creepy ghost things to play some slow-dancing music."

"You got it, babe!" She drained her tall glass in one draught, slamming it down on the table, her face screwed up and flushed. "Fuck! Niffty! What did you mix this mescal with, a wink and a smile?"

Niffty cocked her head quizzically. "Mix?"

Vaggie's eye shot open. "Shit. Better get that thing done while I can still tell my asshole from my elbows."

Charlie waved as Vaggie took off for the band, turning to the bug-demoness. "Niffty, I want you and the bois to help you set up some mood-lighting."

"Yes'm!" Niffy shot to her feet and took off.

Charlie got to her feet and called after her. "And stop watching Moonchild sleep!"

"Didn't catch that last part!"

"I said–"

"WHAAAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU~!"

Charlie sighed and shook her head, turning to the others. "Get to it, team!"

Razzle and Dazzle shot into a salute and took off after Niffty.

The assembled Hotel-goers applauded as Octavia and Moonchild wrapped up their duet on a high-note. As he tried to bow and wave to his adoring half-dozen or so audience, Octavia practically dragged him off stage.

"That was amazing, Via!" Moonchild said, laughing. "I didn't know you could sing like that!"

"Oh, pssh!" Octavia rolled her eyes, waving him off. "It's nothing, like, all royals can sing. It's no big deal."

"All royals can sing?"

"Yeah, it comes from, like, when they were angels or something?" Octavia flapped her hands, mimicking wings. "Y'know, circling God, singing hymns, chanting glorias, shit like that."

"Oh, well, I still think you sound amazing!" Moonchild said, pausing and turning away from her, his face scrunched up as he suppressed a laugh. "Shit…"

"What? What is it?"

Moonchild chuckled and turned back to her. "I was just trying to think of a non-corny way of saying 'no wonder you sing like an angel, you are one'! It's, uh, not going well."

Octavia's mouth hung open for a moment before she loosed a high, tinkling giggle, her cheeks flaring red as she clapped her hand to her face. "Oh my God, you fucking dork!"

"Hey!" Moonchild said, laughing along with her. "That's not nice!"

Octavia eyed him up with a glowing, predatory stare, running a talon down his muscular chest. "You sexy fucking dork…"

Octavia moved in for more when Angel Dust popped up behind them. "Heeey! Ya crazy kids, that was some performance! Wow! Encore!"

With a lithe, fluid grace, Angel wove himself between them, his arms around their shoulders. "So, what're yer plans fer th'night? Chuck was thinkin' maybe a slow-dance or some kinda dumb shit like that. Waddaya think?"

"B̞̮͓e̟̥̠̻͖g̰͍o̟̺n̟e͔̘̗ ̼̗̲̹͇i̩̘̲̺n̰ṣ̙̩͎̭e͓͇̝̩ͅc̺̖t̜̫̦̰ͅ.̗̗̥" Octavia growled, her eyes glowing.

"Sounds good to me!" Moonchild said, smiling brightly. "I'll go tell Mr. Husk!"

Angel looked over to the passed-out sphinx at the poker table, an empty bottle of scotch still clutched in his hand. "Yeah, kid, y'go do that."

Angel waved as Moonchild scampered off to the other table, waiting until he was well out of earshot before doubling back on Octavia. "Fuck me, that was a close one. Arright toots, lissen up an' lissen good: claws off the fish."

Octavia opened her mouth to retort, only for Angel to reach up and shut her beak with his hands. "Shaddup. Look, far be it from me to clam jam a sister prowlin' for Moby Dick, but the direct approach ain't gonna work on Moonie. I know, I know, he looks like a tall glass a'water in a desert and yer one thirsty bitch–"

"Hey!"

"–But shovin' yer tongue down his throat and stickin' a hand down his pants ain't gonna work… trust me. He'll freeze up, he'll panic, it'll be bad. Kid's been hurt and he's pulled himself together pretty well, but he's… delicate, y'know?"

Octavia glanced over at Moonchild, who was attempting to rouse Husk from a stupor, unsuccessfully, at that. His spooky doppelgänger was staring at her, something like frustration on his cruelly handsome face. A sudden rush of shame overcame her: what was she doing? Leering, objectifying, lusting like her father. Planning to take, to force, to demand like her mother. Was this sort of thing just in her blood, always lurking beneath the surface? She could tell herself she meant no harm, that she loved Moonchild, that she'd never hurt him on purpose, but that just made it worse. She'd unthinkingly followed in her bloodline's footsteps, as though she couldn't not hurt him by dint of existing. Hurt him. Hurt others. All because she was who she was, what she was.

"Hey," Angel said, smiling gently. "It's okay. Chuck's got ya covered. And I could give you some pointers on how to, y'know, soften the blow."

Octavia glanced back over at Moonchild, who was fiddling with one of Husk's limp wings, rubbing the soft feathers against his cheek, presumably thinking no one was watching.

"I'd like that."

Moonchild sat across the table from Diavolo, an unconscious, snoring Husk on his lap, puppeteering the limp sphinx while humming Dead Girl Walking.

"Enjoying yourself?" Diavolo said, his tone flat.

"Oh, lots!" Moonchild said, grinning as he scratched under Husk's jaw, eliciting a reflexive purr from the soused demon, his hands kneading the air. "C'mere, before he comes to. He may be a coarse grouch, but he's really soft."

"Get any handsier and your girlfriend will get jealous," said Diavolo glancing over his shoulder at the owl demon as she spoke with the degenerate. "She did just declare dibs about as flamboyantly as possible, after all."

Moonchild set Husk down on another chair, cocking his head. "What do you mean?"

Diavolo locked Moonchild with a bemused stare. "What do I mean? Dense as you are, you couldn't have possibly missed that."

Moonchild shrugged. "Missed what? D, you're not making sense."

"You've got obliviousness down to an art. The second something uncomfortable comes up, you…" Diavolo sighed and rubbed his temples. "Your girlfriend wants to have sex with you, idiot."

"What?" Moonchild exclaimed, paling somewhat. "That's–no! Why would you think that?"

"I've seen enough of your memories to know the Goetia Leer™ when I see it. It's practically their signature expression." Diavolo scoffed, crossing his arms. "Not to mention she literally performed a song and dance in front of everyone about how's she's not going to die a virgin."

"Oh, for–it was just a song!" Moonchild rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I think you're reading too much into things."

"If there's another way to interpret 'before they punch my clock / I'm snapping off that fish-boy cock' I'd love to hear it."

"…Maybe she misread the prompt?"

"Do you practice being an obtuse twit?"

"Hey!"

"Ugh, the stink of it! It's in the air!" Diavolo retched. "Between you and her, that spider, the monocular muppet, that scowling sapphos, even Charlotte! Small wonder this room hasn't devolved into an orgy!"

Moonchild shook his head, leaning back in his chair. "You've lost me. I have no idea what you're on about."

"Whatever, bungle your way into yet another molestation," Diavolo said, bored. "I'm going back into your curdled brain. Don't call me until it's time to kill something."

With that, Diavolo vanished, the hat and gloves fluttering to the floor. Moonchild sighed and pinched the bridge of his snout.

"That seemed heated."

Moonchild looked over to see Husk as he rose up from the table, peeling a card off his cheek. "Oh, you're back with us. Yeah, he… he's still a little unstable. Has some weird hang-ups."

"Like what?"

Moonchild chuckled and shook his head. "He got it in his head that everyone in this room is a randy horndog a hair's breadth from utter debauchery."

Moonchild uncrossed his legs, starting as he kicked something under the table. He lifted up the tablecloth to see Niffty peering back at him, a huge smile on her face.

"Oh!" She chirped. "This isn't where I parked my car."

"What're ya doin' under the table, Bug?"

"I just thought I'd mention, Charlie's setting up a great big slow dance for all the couples here!" Niffty said, grabbing Moonchild's knees and resting her head between them. "Thought I'd ask if either of you handsome boys would do me… the honor of a whirl on the floor."

"Okay…?" Moonchild looked at Husk, who clapped a hand to his face. "But why were you under the table?"

"Oh, y'know," Niffty said, drumming her fingers on his thighs, eye staring forward with particular interest. "Sniffin' stuff."

"Yeah, can't see where Big D was comin' from at all," Husk scoffed. "Regular nunnery 'round here."

"Hey!" Charlie called out as she walked over, a clearly very drunk Vaggie in tow. "Just the guy I wanted to see! Moonie! We're–"

"Slow dance, we know," Husk grunted. "What, you wanted to shut down the karaoke before I could bite into Eggs and Sausage? Understandable."

"Hey, hey, heeey," Vaggie slurred, staggering forward. "Moonie, hey. I jus wannid to say I'm sorry."

"Ho lee shit," Husk said, grinning. "Snatch is wasted!"

Moonchild cocked his head. "Sorry? What for, Miss Vaggie?"

"I jus I jus wannid to say I'm sorry. I was way outta line before, when you were all prettied up and femmy and stuff, I was jus eyein' you up like a creep and that's not cool. It's not cool, even though you were, like, so fuckin' hot, it's not cool and I wanted to say I was sorry for ogling your legs and tight ass in those stockings and shorts, it was really uncool."

"Okay, Vaggie," Charlie chuckled nervously. "That's great. Let's get you a biiig glass of water, 'kay?"

"Mmm damn right," Vaggie crooned as she looked at Charlie, licking her lips. "I'm so fuckin' thirsty~"

"Miss Vaggie," came a soft, lilting voice, masculine but high-toned and familiar. "Like this?"

They turned to see Moonchild standing before them, two feet shorter, his formerly well-fitting clothes hanging off his slender, effeminate frame, exposing his shoulder and upper chest. His face was colored like it had been that night, his chromatophores mimicking the make-up perfectly, his hair tentacles hanging over his right shoulder in an elaborate braid.

"You liked it when I looked like this?" He said, an innocent moue on his adorable face.

Vaggie's eye was dinner plate-wide, her grey cheeks burning red. "Oh please no, this is cruel…"

Moonchild lunged forward and pressed his lips against Vaggie's, pushing her mouth apart, his tongue snaking between her teeth. Vaggie looked stunned for a moment before returning the kiss, her eye fluttering, her hands clamping firmly on his taut rump.

"Whoa!" Husk exclaimed, shocked and amused in equal measure. "Tits up!"

"Moonchild! Vaggie!" Charlie exclaimed, affronted. "This is so unprofessional!"

Moonchild broke the kiss, a decidedly malicious smile on his face.

Vaggie stared into the middle distance, lips glistening, her face aglow. "A-buuuuuh…"

"Moonchild!" Charlie said, turning to him. "What's gotten into y–oh, my God."

His eyes were green.

Diavolo loosed a deep, bellowing cackle as his body expanded, the wet, grisly noises of his muscles and bones as they grew in were underscored by a shrill, unearthly shrieking, his hair splitting into a wild thicket of tentacles. Vaggie clapped her hands over her mouth and stepped back, her face fulled into a rictus of horror.

"Ah, sorry," Diavolo said, stretching out his shoulders, locking eyes with Charlie. "I couldn't resist."

A low, husky voice sounded from under the table. "Ooh-hoo-hoo-hoo~"

Diavolo looked down to see Niffty peeking out from under the table, his eyes narrowing to glowing green slits. "You."

"Ha ha," Niffty said as he loomed over her. "Uh-oh."

Diavolo reached down, his hand fastening around her tiny neck, effortlessly lifting the smaller demon off the ground.

"Diavolo!" Charlie exclaimed, starting forward. "Put her–"

"No, no," Niffty croaked, shooting her a thumbs-up, smiling as her face flushed red. "I'm good. This is good."

"Yes," Diavolo snarled, bearing his teeth. "Know your place, insect."

He lifted her face to his until they were mere inches apart. He leaned in, opening his mouth, his white, sharklike teeth glinting as they scraped across the side of her face, his hot breath tickling her skin. He drew back and planted a tiny, delicate peck on her cheek. Niffty went ramrod stiff, her face beet red, before loosing a heady chuckle and going limp.

Diavolo unceremoniously dropped the twitching, comatose insect and turned to Charlie, who was glaring at him, a still-blushing Vaggie hiding behind her.

"Charlotte, perhaps you should have the goats put some pylons and a sign around these two," he said, smiling cruelly. "Someone could slip and hurt themselves."

Charlie fearlessly strode up to him, jamming a finger in his face. "You! Did Moonchild give you permission to take over his body?"

Diavolo avoided her glare and folded his arms across his barrel chest. "…It's my body, too…"

"Did he?!"

Diavolo sighed and rolled his eyes. "Oh, calm down, Charlotte. Fine, I'll go back under, I need the sleep, anyway. We've got something of a big day tomorrow, don't we?"

With that Diavolo's eyes rolled up white in their sockets, his mighty frame shrank slightly with a gristly crunching sound, when his eyes rolled back down, they were fuchsia once more.

Moonchild blinked, looking around. "Oh? What happened? Charlie? Vaggie?"

"Are you alright, Moonchild?"

"Just a little sore." He rolled out his shoulders, wincing slightly, smacking his lips. "What happened? Why do I taste tequila?"

"It's mescal," Vaggie muttered, staring into the middle distance.

"Oh? What–" A gurgle drew his attention to the prone, shuddering demoness on the floor. "Miss Niffty? Are you okay?"

"B-better than okay…" she said, her voice a shuddering whisper. "I can't feel my legs~"

"Alright everybody!" Charlie cheered over the mic. "Tonight has been wonderful, lots of fun! I know we all have a lot on our plates right now, but it's heartwarming to see that we can all put that aside and have some good, wholesome fun!"

"Ha!" Husk barked.

"Well, anyway, we've all been having so much fun, the night went and flew by!" Charlie pointed to the band and winked. "So let's slooow things down and make it last! Pair up, everybody, it's time for a slow dance!"

The band tuned their instruments, the shadow-ghosts looking decidedly disinterested as they did. Moonchild walked over to Octavia, who was still chatting with Angel Dust about something.

"Uh, h-hey, Via, Angel, how're you guys doing, uh, tonight?" He said, suddenly inexplicably stymied.

Angel glanced at Octavia, an amused smile on his face. "Oh, fair ta middlin', right Hoots?"

"Yeah, pretty good, pretty good," said Octavia, smirking. "So, how about that slow dance coming up. Sounds fun."

"Yeah, uh, about that," Moonchild said, fidgeting. "I was w-wondering, uh, if you'd maybe-I mean, if you want–"

"Shh…" Octavia reached up and pressed a talon to his lips. "It's okay… Angel would love to dance with you."

"Uh."

Angel laughed and lunged forward, draping one pair of arms over Moonchild's shoulders, wrapping another around his waist. "I accept! Ooh! It'll be sooo romantic, Moonie!"

Octavia and Angel laughed at Moonchild's confounded expression, Angel leaning in and giving him a peck on the cheek. "Knock 'er dead, tiger shark."

(insert Con Ti Partiro)

With that Angel left the pair of teens standing in the middle of the dance floor, shifting on their feet. The band began to play, the opening notes of the song filling the air as the lights dimmed. Husk and Niffty paired up as Charlie helped Vaggie with yet another tall glass of water. Razzle and Dazzle stood on each other's shoulders, each of them taking a pair of hands from Angel.

"So, uh, do you…?"

Octavia nodded and took his hands in hers. "I do."

"Heh, I, uh…" Moonchild smiled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know how to dance."

Octavia smiled sweetly, guiding his hand down to her hip, taking his other in her hand. "No one does. Some are just better at faking than others."

She pulled herself close and they began to sway with the music, their eyes not leaving one another. The music swelled, filling the air with warm, melancholic notes. Octavia's eyes glowed and her mother's grimoire materialized behind her, glowing tyrian as it split open. The magic encased them, Moonchild was clad in a glittering three-pieces suit that moved and shifted like the night's sky, swirls of galaxies dancing across his chest, his tentacled hair done up in a neat ponytail that stretched down his back. Octavia vanished in a flash of tyrian, reappearing in a flowing, shifting ball gown, a boa of dark fire about her shoulders, a tall, glowing tiara atop her immaculately styled feathers. A ball of glowing energy rose into the air as the music intensified, it burst, the ceiling and room vanishing, replaced by an endless, starry sky, ringed gas giants rose and fell out of view as stars sparkled in the spiral arm of an unknown galaxy, unseen by mortal eyes.

Octavia looked up at Moonchild, a sweet, sorry smile on her flawless face. "I'm sorry… for everything. I love you, Moonchild."

Moonchild shook his head and smiled. "I love you, Octavia."

He leaned over and whispered in her ear. "It's okay. I want to. If it's you, it's okay."

Octavia smiled, tears in her eyes, and kissed him. He returned it with gusto, pulling her close. The band reached the long-held climax as Octavia opened a portal behind them and Moonchild led her through it. The portal snapped shut and the star-view vanished in a flash.

The other attendees stood in shocked silence, with Angel speaking up first. "Now that's how ya make a fuckin' exit!"

"Three guesses where they ran off to," Husk said, smirking. "Ah, well, this was a good night. Kickass party, everyone."

"Yeah, whatever, great party," Niffty said, yawning quickly. "Well, if that's all for tonight, I'm beat! Off I go to my room to sleep and nothing else!"

Husk scooped the little bug-demon off the floor, tucking her under his arm. "Get back here."

"Phooey!"

It was late, so late as to be early in the morning. Captain Gallia stood at attention before a wall of screens, on them were all the prisoners slated for the lathe. Countless monitors bore the images of countless chambers, each one home to one or more despairing, hapless demons. One in particular held her interest.

One of the technicians loosed a whistle. "Wow. They still at it? Little critters sure have stamina."

Almost the instant the Duke had left their cell, the imps wasted no time in peeling out of their tacky clothes and rutting like the animals they were. Gallia would admit to herself and no one else a begrudging sort of respect for the lowly creatures. There were many reactions to being an unwilling guest of His Excellency, begging, bargaining, kowtowing, sobbing, even a few mental breakdowns complete with deranged gibbering. If these imps were in any way concerned about their inevitable fate, it certainly didn't show. Or perhaps they were simply making the most of the time they had left?

"Your work here is done?" Captain Gallia said, not taking her eyes off the screen.

"Yes, Captain," the technician said, smirking. "The Duke's little imp tea-party has been completely scrubbed from the–"

Gallia's aura flared to life like tiny super-nova, a flashbulb-quick flex of her awesome might. Where the tech once stood was a carbon-black lump in the shape of a demon, its charred features frozen in the transition between a self-satisfied smile and a scream of mortal pain. The carbon lump smoldered and popped for a moment before crumbling into a pile on the floor. On the opposite side of the room, a small, otherwise invisible door swung open. A smartly dressed imp with a brush and dustpan stepped out, bowing deeply before scurrying over and collecting the ashen remains and polishing the spot on the floor with an ornate hanky. His job done, the imp bowed and scampered back through the door, closing it behind him.

"…What was he talking to them about?" Gallia wondered aloud, for there had been no audio in the recording. "Why send me away?"

She looked down at her hand, noticing the slight tremble in her fingers. She grit her teeth and clenched her fist, willing the tremors to subside. They did not. She hated to admit to herself that the imp had guessed right, and the effects of the little orange lozenge were beginning to wane, and in its wake she found herself diminished somehow. She had been an Overlord for centuries, had sampled all the foul, wonderful wares Hell had to offer, her iron will allowing her to rebuff any substance's attempt to snare her. But this new drug, this 'Rapture', was different. Its fading warmth left her feeling not cold or sick or wanting, not in withdrawal as she understood the term, but less somehow. Like it had taken some small, important part of her with it, leaving her diminished, compromised, frayed.

That damned imp! How could such a foul creature have gotten to her, gotten under her skin, gotten her to lose her cool in front of Sallos?!

His Excellency.

She meant 'His Excellency'. To even think of her Duke in less formal terms was… improper. It was improper to remember that sweet, gentle smile he had given her. To relish his understated but unshakable confidence in her, his faith. To entertain a fleeting, wild hope that he would one day allow himself to be… less formal with her. After all, why not? She was his best soldier, not only for her raw power, but for her integrity, her loyalty, her lo–

She shook her head and glared up at the imp as he shared the female with the other male. That disgusting creature had lain with a Prince, repeatedly. A dim blush burned in her cheeks, some part of her acknowledging that tawdry flings with lower orders was hardly unheard of amongst the Goetia. That very thing was what set this whole ordeal in motion, after all! She sternly reminded herself such carnal dalliances were beneath her Duke. Her Duke who loved romance novels and rom-coms and soap operas, whose fearsome appearance and incredible power belied a tender, loving soul. No, no, such base, carnal affairs were certainly not his style. Sallos would insist on a level of romance, of commitment if he were to, hypothetically, court an underling. A picnic in Wrath. A boat-ride in Envy. Dancing lessons in Lust. Or maybe they'd stay in for dinner and a movie? The movie would be Titanic, of course, his favorite, and dinner would be something light and delicate, something that would pair well with a chilled Sauvignon Blanc. Frutti di mare, perhaps?

Gallia almost jumped out of her spines when the door opened behind her. She turned to see Duke Sallos duck and squeeze his way through the door. Surveillance was a menial job, as was maintaining the technology, as such this room had not been designed to accommodate His Excellency's impressive frame. She shot to attention as he stood up straight, his bald head brushing the ceiling.

"Your Excellency!" Gallia said, hoping he couldn't see her rosy cheeks in the dim light of the screens. "How can I be of service?"

"At ease, Captain," said Sallos, his eyes scanning the screens before snapping open. "I just wanted to track you down, I have something to–oh my! Those three certainly are… making themselves at home."

"Indeed, Your Excellency," Gallia snarled. "The little beasts have been at it for hours."

Sallos chuckled, smirking. "Impressive stamina. Blitzo would need it to keep up with Stolas, but those other two seem to be holding their own."

"Indeed, Your Excellency."

"It's almost… hypnotic."

"I have been watching for quite some time. They've not used the same position twice.

Sallos tore his eyes away from the torrid rutting and turned back to her. "Can we… move the camera? Give them some privacy?"

"We can try, Your Excellency." Gallia leaned forward and typed a few commands into the console, causing the camera to swivel away and lock onto an unoccupied corner of the cell. No sooner than it had, the imps were dragging the cot into view, resuming an instant later. "But it seems they do not want privacy."

"Ah, I see."

"I have a solution, if Your Excellency wishes?"

"Of course."

Gallia peeled a small, yellow post-it from the stack and stuck it on the screen. "There."

Sallos laughed and clapped her on the shoulder. "That's why you're my right-hand demon, Gallia, you get the job done!"

Gallia smiled and polished her talons on her lapel. "A job done well is its own reward."

"Reward!" Sallos exclaimed, snapping his fingers like a whip crack. "That reminds me. I have a little something for you, Gallia, for all your hard work."

Gallia cocked her head as he fished about in his breast pocket. He smiled and pulled his hand out, in his fingers was a single polished gold tooth.

"Here," he said, handing the gleaming fang to her. "For your necklace."

"Is that…" she said, her eyes glittering as she examined it, a huge, decidedly unprofessional smile spreading across her beautiful face. "Valentino? Oh, Your Excellency! Thank you! I've been wanting to add him to my collection for years!"

She reached under her collar and pulled out a densely packed loop made up of fangs of every shape and description. Gallia set the gold tooth in the center of the necklace, the spell holding it together flashing as it accepted its newest addition. She admired the grisly loop of teeth, grinning as she rubbed the gold fang between her thumb and forefinger. Gallia looked up at her Duke, who was smiling softly, clearly enjoying her reaction to the gift. Seized by an irresistible urge, Gallia lunged forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"…Captain?"

Gallia released him and pulled away as though he were red hot, her expression mortified. What had she done?! "I-I'm sorry,Your Excellency! I was just-it-I-the gift was just so-I–"

Sallos smiled and set a massive hand on her shoulder, silencing her. "Shhh… It's quite alright, Gallia. Just… unexpected."

Sallos sighed and turned away from her and towards the screen, only the trio's entwined tails visible from behind the post-it. "Gallia… I've been thinking."

"Your Excellency?"

Sallos shook his head, crossing his arms behind his back. "Once I've carried out the Decree, I was thinking that, maybe, well, I've been considering tendering my resignation as a peacekeeper."

Gallia's eyes snapped open wide, her mouth hanging open. "You're what?!"

"You heard me, Gallia," Sallos said, clearly amused at her lapse in demeanor. "I haven't been happy with my work in a long, long time. Any satisfaction I get from it is but a brief reprieve from the constant grind, the burden, the unending stress. At first I thought it was the perfect fit, as I've always prided myself on my ability to end conflicts and promote unity. But there is no accomplishment, no plateau, no… victory. At best I'm patching a leaking bucket, a cracking dam, at worst I'm polishing a kitchen table while the house burns down around me. If Lucifer wanted peace, he'd have it. At the risk of sounding conceited, I'd wager he chose me for this position as a punishment. It certainly feels that way now."

Gallia stood, aghast, trying manfully to formulate a non-asinine response. "What would you do instead?"

Trying and failing.

Sallos, on his part, didn't seem the least bit put off by her question, if anything he seemed delighted. "Oh! I'm so glad you asked! Well, you see, after what happened with Stella and Stolas, I got to thinking: how many of our problems here in Hell arise from broken homes? How many unending cycles of revenge are kicked off by infidelity, bitterness, spite? And the children! My precious Octavia is a sweet, wonderful girl despite her home life, but what would she have been like had Stella and Stolas not been at odds? How many of those vile little shits I tolerate at family get-togethers could have been tolerable, or even good, had they come from healthy homes? Well! Promoting unity is my special skill, inspiring love and affection is my passion, so why not combine the two? I could become the Inner Circle's first marriage councilor! Well, not first, more like the first marriage councilor who won't be butchered immediately, but you get the idea."

Gallia was silent, coldly examining her feet. Dimly aware of niggling concerns such as her future career as a ducal soldier and which brutal aristocrat Lucifer would hire to replace Sallos. However, at the fore of her thoughts was bitter, burning shame: that her Duke had been so unhappy for so long without her noticing was an unforgivable oversight on her part! Gallia was pulled out of her silent fuming when Sallos cleared his throat.

"Uhm, so, uh…" Sallos said, the lack of certainty in his body-language and bearing was so out of character Gallia momentarily contemplated that the being before her was some manner of imposter. "Captain…"

"Yes, Your Excellency?"

"It has been a sincere pleasure to work with you, Gallia. You're strong, cunning, competent. You've worked hard to get where you are and you've earned your status and, uh…" He shifted on his feet, drumming his fingers together. "Well, I'll need an administrator, someone I can trust–feel free to say 'no', I know you're happy as a–Oh, what am I saying? You've a career here, a life! Forget I said–"

"Of course, Your Excellency," said Gallia, without a moment's hesitation. "I would be honored to help you in this new venture."

Sallos grinned and clapped her on the shoulder. "Glorious! After we satisfy the Decree, that'll be that!"

Gallia looked up at her Duke, the enthusiasm, the happiness: for the first time in perhaps ever, he seemed hopeful. It was her duty from that day onward to help him keep that smile, that hope. "Your Excellency, I–"

"Please," he said, winking at her. "Call me 'Sallos'."

Before she could respond, his phone screamed to life. Sallos gestured for a moment and pulled the shrieking device from his pocket, his eyes snapping open wide. "It's a call… from Octavia."