"You're not who I was expecting."
When the door clicked shut behind Felix, he stiffened instinctively. The red-lit atmosphere pressed against his chest. The moth demon's smile only widened at that.
He drawled, his voice followed, smooth and unhurried, built for charm. "You gonna stand there, or did you actually come in here for something?" Felix swallowed once, forcing his legs forward. "Delivery," he said, steady enough.
He stopped well short of the center of the room. A quiet hum vibrated from the demon. It was thoughtful in a way that didn't feel reassuring.
The moth's eyes flicked downward, bypassing the box to linger on Felix's porcelain hands before returning to his face.
"Could I interest you in some cake?" he asked lightly, his fork nudging a plate with a chilling lack of attention. "My, you look slim." Felix's skin hummed with a low-frequency alert, but his face remained a mask. "Appreciate it, but I'll pass."
At first, the demon raised an eyebrow, before a soft chuckle came out. "Polite," the demon murmured. "How nice." He twirled the fork before setting it aside. "Bea, why don't you see if one of our customers needs some service."
The demoness, an Imp whose horns and appearance bore a striking resemblance to Barnaby's, hesitated before pushing herself upright. Noticing she had no clothes on, Felix turned his head away the moment she moved, his jaw tightening slightly as he focused on a point somewhere past her.
The door clicked shut behind her. The chuckle returned — quieter, more invasive. When Felix finally looked back, the demon had leaned into his velvet seat.
"Alright, let's try this again." He pointed to the box in Felix's hand. "How much do you have?" Felix didn't answer right away. That alone seemed to interest him. "I wasn't told the amount," Felix said finally.
He stepped forward just enough to close the distance, then crouched to set the box on the carpet rather than handing it over directly. It was a subtle choice, a refusal to let the demon's fingers brush his own. "I was told to deliver it intact," he added, nudging the box forward with the back of his hand before straightening. "Figured that mattered more."
The moth's eyes didn't leave Felix's. A long silence stretched between them. Then — a slow, predatory smile crept across the demon's lavender skin.
"Smart," he praised softly. "You don't touch it. You don't count it unless told to. You don't ask questions. That's a mindset I usually have to beat into people."
He leaned forward, finally reaching for the lid. He didn't look inside; he simply leaned down and inhaled deeply, sniffing the air as the lid cracked open. "Although. ." His smile thinned, and he snapped the box shut. "I also teach them when not to."
Felix paused a fraction longer than he liked, his internal reels spinning in a frantic search for the right response. "Funny thing about instructions is people usually only start questioning them after something feels off. I'd rather not be the reason for that conclusion either way."
"That's a boring answer," the demon said, shaking his head. He winked through his heart-shaped glasses. "But you have a way with words. I like that! Or perhaps. . I like you."
The comment was a lure, and Felix knew it. He kept his expression as flat as his doll-like skin, but the unease in his gut was a physical weight. Without another word, the demon pulled a phone from his coat, typed a brief message, and then patted the velvet cushion beside him.
Offered a seat, Felix felt his heartbeat pick up. He moved, but each step felt like he was dragging himself through deep water. By the time he sat, his breathing was shallow. He kept his gaze fixed forward, refusing to look at the man beside him, yet he could feel the invasive weight of those heart-shaped lenses.
Minutes crawled by before the door opened again. A worker stepped in, dressed in scraps of fabric that barely qualified as clothing, balancing a silver platter. On it was a deep red bottle of champagne and two glasses.
The liquid inside was a dark, bruised purple. She set it down and vanished like a shadow. The demon uncorked the bottle with a soft pop. He poured slowly. "Care for a drink?" Felix shook his head. "Thank you for the offer, but I'm not into alcohol."
"Suit yourself." The demon didn't press. He downed the glass in one smooth motion and draped an arm over the back of the couch, his long fingers dangling dangerously close to Felix's shoulder.
"Bit of a waste, honestly. I see the potential you have. And yet, you're running boxes for an imp." He paused, then casually asked, "What do you think of it so far?"
Felix's eyes flicked toward him. "Hell?" he clarified. "Mhm." "It's loud," Felix said after a beat of genuine thought. "And messy." The demon's smile darkened. "Fresh." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"I could use someone like you. And I'm not talking what I do here. I have connections. Whatever you're after, I can help you achieve it. Far better than running deliveries."
For once, Felix didn't hesitate to answer. "No." The refusal was simple. The demon blinked, then let out a genuine laugh. "Well, that's new." The laughter faded into a lingering, dangerous smile.
"Offer stands. People tend to reconsider once they understand their options better." He reached for the bottle again, no longer bothering to look at Felix. "You're free to go." Felix nodded once and stood.
He turned toward the door, maintaining a pace that was neither a rush nor a linger. He was an arm's length from the exit when a soft sound made him stop.
"Ah." He turned back. The moth demon had the box open again, and this time, he wasn't pretending. He held something between two fingers, lifting it toward the red light. It was the ring. The gem caught the glow, which made it even more alluring.
A quiet hum left the demon as he studied it. "Tell Barnaby something for me." His smile returned, wide and unnatural. "I'll be extending the time I have for the product."