Page 55 of The Succubi's Choice

“They could use more confusion,” he says, lazily, and this may be the most relaxed she’s ever seen him, and it should be terrifying. “The demigod got them too comfortable, sold them false ideas of the world.”

“Well, yeah, and he also killed so many of us, so I can’t really believe they’d side with him,” she says, and only a little bit of bitterness creeps into her voice.

He raises an eyebrow at her, his movements a little too loose, and she suddenly realizes that this Archdemon, this ancient power that isn’t defined and cannot be contained...is drunk. Or tipsy. Inebriated. Inhibitions lowered.

“People are willing to look over a lot of things if you give them an alternative to a system they feel brings them down,” he says, his words a little bit drawn out, a little bit whimsical. “They’ll look over almost any error.” He, too, plays with the fabric of the couch between them, in an idle movement that she’s seen Thomas do as well. Like he adapts the mannerisms of his hosts, adapts their body language and their little quirks. “That’s what I’m trying to do. As well.”

“Well, please don’t start killing people right and left,” she says, and he grins again. “That was terrifying.”

He leans back, looking up at the dim ceiling, his red eyes unfocused. Like he’s a very, very mellow drunk. “I see no point in killing people like me, I have no prophecy or anything compelling me to rule the world.”

She doesn’t miss the ‘like me’ and doesn’t exactly know where his definition of like begins and ends, but hopes it includes her. “So, your alternative?”

“Are you trying to get information out of me again?” He asks, and thankfully his voice is merely amused.

“I told you I would,” she says, poking him in the side before being utterly terrified by her own actions.

Thankfully, he just leans his head over at that, giving her something resembling a soft smile, something resembling fondness. “I hope your report goes over very well,” he says, formal. “I hope you get in absolutely zero trouble for my actions —" She snorts at that, but he moves on— “and that things work well.”

“That’s vague,” she says, her head still slightly swimming, and she suddenly feels like she could sink into the couch and stay there, sleep the rest of the night away, however little there may be. Like her eyes could close and she’d never realize she isn’t in her own bed.

As if reading her mind, he leans over, pressing a gentle kiss against her forehead, and her eyes slip shut. “Don’t be scared,” he whispers, brief, before he rests a hand against her arm and…

There’s the sudden feeling of motion, the sudden whirl of air around her, and —

They’re outside her tiny little apartment, with the yellow sodium lights against the predawn light.

She stumbles to get her feet underneath her, and he steadies her. The air slaps her in the face with its chill, and she’s suddenly aware of how thin and flimsy the green velvet dress is.

“I shouldn’t be scared you know where I live, right?” She quips, her heart hammering. “Or was it the, you know, sudden breaking the laws of physics?”

Again, the crooked smile. “The entire block back there was crawling with your handler friends, you were too tipsy to deal with them.”

“Is teleporting while drunk a thing? That sounds worse than driving.”

He doesn’t respond, only smiles, and vanishes, a puff of displaced air where he once was.

Leaving her alone with the crickets and the chill and the predawn light.

“Right,” she whispers, alone, before digging out her keys from around her gun and climbing the steps.

After the grandness and the curated comfort, the dirty concrete of her stoop seems even worse, and her hands shake as she unlocks her door.

Unsurprisingly, Gabriel and Jacqueline are piled on the couch, fast asleep, with Gabriel’s mouth hanging open and Jacqueline’s head pillowed on his chest.

Gabriel blinks up at her as the door closes with a click, and she gives him a thumbs up. He nods, putting his head back down, clearly not wanting to be awake at all.

So she tiptoes past, to her own room that’s unbearably cold and dark, and flops onto the bed, still in the dress and heels and all the makeup.

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