1The doorman doesn't want to let him in but Dante simply stands there and repeats who he wants to see over and over. The flustered man, probably realizing this big man standing oh, so politely in the lobby is going to be a challenge to have security take away without a scene, finally calls up and returns telling him Ms. Smith will see him.
He gets a lot of double takes and stares as he walks across the smooth marble of the floor, the well dressed upper crust staring with surprise and distaste at this intruder to their world. Dante winks at a lady in furs and diamonds standing by the elevator and she moves off in a huff, leaving him alone when the elevator opens and alone when he steps in. Just the way he likes it.
There's a man in the elevator to press the button and everything and he keeps glancing at Dante nervously. Every time Dante catches his eye he stares at him until the human looks away, trying very hard not to fidget. The elevator is as fancy as the rest of the building, the walls are mirrors of polished brass he can see a hazy reflection in and his feet sink into the red carpet. He can practically hear the elevator man's sigh of relief as they reach the right floor and Dante exits.
Her butler lets him in and points silently through an open doorway. Because the man manages to make the gesture an order, Dante doesn't move immediately, turning his head to take the grand entrance hall in. Mosaics of flowers and winding vines decorate every ceiling, crafted from tile and precious stones. Ignoring the butler clearing his throat, Dante wanders into the opposite room, some kind of sitting room with a lush blue carpet and uncomfortable looking furniture of dark wood. There are red flowers everywhere, bouquets of roses, lilies, poppies, dozens of other varieties. All red and fresh.
She's been married many times over, to very rich men every time, and it's left her obscenely rich. The fact she's made it a point to just outlive her husbands and let them die a natural death is one of the reasons he's made no real attempt to kill her. She could easily have killed them off and never get caught. She is a succubus after all.
The musky scent of her hits him before she enters, overpowering the flowers. Then the soft brush of bare feet on the carpet comes towards him as he turns to face her, presenting herself in the doorway precisely as she wants him to see her. She always does love making an entrance.
On the surface, she's merely an astonishingly beautiful woman. Long black hair falls nearly to her waist, framing a voluptuous body sheathed in a silk dress that flaunts more than it hides. Her eyes study him with carnal hunger she can never manage to hide completely, the same way neither he, or Trish, or Fara can ever completely hide what they are. At the moment they're a vivid purple, but he knows it's an illusion, her eyes are demon red. It's one of many small illusions she uses to fool a world that doesn't believe in her anyway.
"Dante."
Her voice is a purr, low and husky and inviting, but the way she moves across the floor reminds him of a predator. She slides up and latches onto him before he realizes what she's doing, fastening her mouth to his and pressing her body against him, wriggling expertly without appearing to move at all. Her allure is powerful enough that his breath comes short and his body heats up, even knowing what she is. He brings his hands up and seizes her by the arms, pushing her roughly away from him, which only makes her purr more. She licks her lips and gazes up at him, held at arm's length. "Not even going to play a little bit?"
"Your games are never as much fun for me as they are for you. You cheat." He lets her go and backs up a few steps, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring at her. The cold, suspicious look in his eyes makes her back up a pace and eye him warily, teasing forgotten. Usually, Dante just brushes her off with a flippant remark or an insult but he's on edge and angry now. And her own slate certainly isn't clean enough she's sure it isn't something she did that pissed him off.
She turns and pads over to one of the couches and stretches out on it comfortably, arranging her dress so it falls artfully over her thighs and leaves most of her legs exposed. It's a nice view but Dante knows better than to enjoy it too much. He remains standing, looking at her. "Any of your old friends from hell stop by for a visit?"
She blinks at him. "No one of importance…" Her eyes narrow. "If you're asking me did I go back on our deal, then no. I haven't helped anyone from below get a foothold here since you warned me off." Her tone turns bitter. "After striking a deal with the son of the great traitor Sparda, none of them would trust me anyway."
"Awww."
She glares at him. "If there's a problem out there, it's nothing to do with me, son of Sparda. Try that little bitch Mundus created."
"Shut up."
She smirks at him. "My, my, you really are tense. What's going on that would shake the unshakable Dante, righteous sword of the human race?"
He pulls out a scrap of paper Fara gave him the other night and tosses it at her. She unfolds it with a bored look and scans a few of the words Fara had let him scrawl down, looking it over.
Hiding her emotions is something she's very good at, something her kind are good at, but he sees it. The way she goes stiff, and the way her fingers tighten on that tiny scrap of paper, making it crumple again. "Where did you get this?" There's a tremble in her voice, barely perceptible.
"It's from a manuscript a bunch of idiots were dancing around in a graveyard last night. With a couple burned corpses thrown into the mix. Fara let me write out a few words from it…"
He doesn't get to finish. She's on her feet, almost stumbling, pointing at him with a trembling finger. "Get out."
The words don't throw him off but the way she looks, almost sick, makes him pause. He's never seen her any less than poised. She gestures toward the door wildly with a shaking hand. "Get out!"
"But I just got here."
"Get out! You might bring this on me! It might be brought on me because I know you!" She flies at him, dark energy crackling around her fingers. She almost breaks her nose against the barrel of his gun as he whips it out faster than she can get to him. He cocks it calmly to show her he's serious and they stand for a long moment, glaring at each other. Her eyes are still wide…and fearful.
Dante forces his voice to stay calm. "All right, babe. I don't want to break my promise not to kill you, but I'm kind of on the edge here. All sorts of shit is suddenly happening that I haven't dealt with before, so if you have some information you'd kindly like to pass on I'll be on my way."
She glares at him but seems to realize through her panic that she won't be able to get rid of him immediately. Her hands drop very slowly to her sides. "It's written in demonic tongue, but no demon wrote it. It will spread to you and anyone involved with you and anything you fucking touched for all I know. It's like a plague no one can touch and it's not even supposed to be in this world."
"What is it?"
"Madness. Chaos."
"Sounds like a demon to me."
"Demons have a form." She turns away and sits down on her couch. "And that's all I can tell you. If you want to kill me for it go ahead. It might actually be merciful."
He holds the gun on her for a long moment, silent, waiting, but she doesn't say anything else and her face is turned away from it. She's not bluffing.
He leaves.