Page 101 of The Succubi's Choice

The texture of the dress whispers around her, soft and thick to her touch, like no fabric she’s ever encountered before. She smooths her hands over the skirt, and it’s probably the nicest thing she’s ever worn.

There’s a pause in the conversation outside, so she takes a deep fortifying breath and pushes aside the fabric wall, stepping outside.

Even in just her work shoes, the step feels different than it did when she stepped inside. The carpet is still plush, the air is still chilled, and the room is still far and away mostly empty.

Not-Thomas is standing there, hugging the small beetle-like man, like one would a long-lost family member. He’s in a suit, inexplicably, and it’s such a tender little moment that Miri wants to disappear back into the dressing room.

But his eyes open, falling on her, and with a brief final squeeze he steps away from the dressmaker. “That color is...bright on you,” he says, his voice thick with something resembling an emotion.

“I don’t usually do the neons—"

“That’s not a neon —" the dressmaker interrupts.

“But he said it’d look nice,” Miri smiles at the dressmaker, who just nods, self-assured. “Do you just keep a suit here?”

“I can teleport in an instant,” the Archdemon says, not quite grumpy but not not-grumpy. “Procuring clothing in strange locations is never a problem.”

“He won’t let me dress him,” the dressmaker approaches her, tugging on the sides of the dress, fitting it into place like a carpenter adjusts his projects. “You actually look alive in this color,” he says, his voice neutral, like this is just a normal thing to say. “The blue would have washed you out. Further.”

“She’s on a feeding schedule that’s less than ideal,” the Archdemon pipes up, but he’s smiling around his eyes. “Thank you for your help.”

Again, a small moment between the two of them passes, before the small man nods his head, his eyes unblinking. “You should visit more, Cjell.” It’s the most declarative she’s heard from him.

Instead of answering that directly, the Archdemon holds out his arm to her, and the moment she touches him, they’re back in her tiny little apartment.

Gabriel is nowhere to be seen, and she can’t hear him in his room, which means he headed out, and a small bit of her hopes that it’s with Jacqueline even though she knows it’s probably to office hours.

“Cjell?” She asks, sounding it out. “Is that...”

He sighs, almost put upon. “It was the name of my host when he first met me,” he says, like pulling the answer out of him is stressful. “Like how people call me Thomas now.”

“Do you like that name?” She asks, unable to keep the curiosity out of her voice. “Because I keep calling you Not-Thomas and that's weird for someone I’ve fucked.”

His nose wrinkles out of amusement, before he leans over and places a small kiss on her forehead. “The dress looks lovely on you.”

“How do you know him?” She asks, before he can distract her into not asking the questions. “Cause that was pretty damn strange, and —"

“He was my host for about six years,” the Archdemon says. “When he was younger. But he fell in love, and his wife doesn’t know, and he didn’t want to tell her, so I moved on.”

Miri briefly tries to imagine that man with a wife and a family, and, failing that, moves the heck on. “Alright,” she says, because she doesn’t quite understand, but she gets having to stop being friends with someone because they don’t know about parts of her. “I mean, that’s kinda sad, cause you looked like you guys were friends, but okay.”

There’s a stillness to him, one that used to seem sinister and unreal, but now she knows it’s way more of an awkwardness and not knowing what to say, and that’s going through his face right now.

He shrugs, such a motion that’s indicative of Thomas, one he undoubtedly picked up from him. “His family doesn’t know about his parents, either. He’s entirely secret.”

“Wow,” she says, out of any other thing to say. “That takes some dedication.”

“He’s very successful.” He adjusts his suit, and the top button is unbuttoned like before, and it lends an air of non-chalantness to him that works very well. “He’s always been very artistic, even when he was young, and now...”

“And now he had this just in his storage.”

“He’s very good.” The moment seems to pass, like he’s glossing over it, like he’s almost embarrassed over the show of emotion he had.

Miri nudges him on his side, gentle, and the look he gives her is incredibly soft. “Well, thank you? I don’t have much occasion to wear stuff like this.”

“You should, you look stunning.” He says, with total gravitas, and her face heats up, outside of her control. She’s been called beautiful her entire life, and this somehow is different.

She lets herself have that moment, gets her face under control, before looking up at him with a sunny smile. “So why’d you want me to be here?”

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