[ potassiumboron & tragictrees ] Trouble's Brewing

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There was a pause. Malphas, at first, didn't speak. But he also didn't pull over. After a second, he started laughing. He wasn't doing it on purpose. He pulled the car off to the side, and turned to Taylor. He was done. He was completely and utterly done. Fine, he wanted to shoot him? Why the fuck not? He could let himself slip this one time. Just once. After this....well. He'd go back to normal, or whatever he was doing was. Just maybe with one less crime lord in the world.

"Alright, fine. You're done? Okay. So am I. Go ahead and shoot me, then, don't pull it out too long. Just fucking do it, yea?" He said, grinning. It was just this once, he reminded himself mentally "Put a bullet in my skull. Hell, if you want to stab me, even, I'll stay still. Take your pick, but don't keep me waiting."

Usually, Mal was pissed off. But there was a difference between that and now. The poking a prodding? That pissed him off and he got snappy, annoyed. This, however....this was funny. This was the best fucking thing that had happened all week. The other had no idea that the bullets wouldn't do shit, and Mal was thrilled about that. He trusted the reaction would be spectacular, and then maybe he could fucking teach the asshole a lesson.

That'd be nice.
 
"You're acting fucking calm about this? You're actually a lunatic, aren't you? Like, something ain't fucking right with how you're wired up there," he drawled, tilting the gun upwards to give the other a hefty knock on the forehead, all while forcing his confusion down and plastering over it with a grin. He wanted to execute this flawlessly, give himself a nice few memories to dwell over in his dreams. He wanted to be cold, calculating, cool. One bullet would be shot and that would be that - clinically ending the life of the man who had caused him weeks of misery because of how annoyingly persistent he was, preferably after Malphas begged; pleaded for his life.

That was what he wanted, but it clearly wasn't what he was receiving.

Trust this fucker to be this damn annoying at what Taylor believed to be nearing the final moments of his life. Just, for once, couldn't he behave the way Taylor wanted him to? Couldn't he react like a normal person, break into tears and plead helplessly? Couldn't he at least look scared?!

Instead, Malphas seemed to be acting as though this was a huge game; as though the threat of death meant very little to him. It didn't, of course, because he knew that he wasn't going to die. No matter what stunt Taylor could think up and conceive of, it would never be enough to end the life of Malphas. More's the pity.

And that was proven the very instant he fired the gun. He didn't flinch and he didn't even blink. His hand was steady, his lips curling upward into a smirk in preparation to feel the blood splatter over his face and to then pour out from the wound over the leather interior. It would have been a near perfect display from Taylor in how sociopathically calm he was, and how sadistically delighted he became--

Though it was clear too premature. As Seth held his hands obliviously over his eyes, too afraid to really open them to see a bloody scene, Taylor's were wide and fully capable of witnessing... nothing. The bullet had left the gun, it had been fired successfully, yet... yet Malphas wasn't a bloody corpse bleeding out everywhere. He wasn't... dead.

"Fucking-- this ain't--" He muttered, firing the gun a further three times to make sure, to definitely make sure, that there wasn't a problem with the gun. When the frankly unbelievable truth set in that Malphas was just immune to being shot and killed, he scrambled back with as much dignity as he could manage and reached for the door handle. When that failed, he gave the car door a kick, while uselessly keeping the gun aimed at Malphas. He may now it was useless, but it was natural and instinctive for him to aim the weapon.

"Y-You're fucking-- fuck you, let us out, 'ya hear me?! I ain't sitting in here with-- with you, you're a fucking freak."
 
"Not freak. Demon." Mal drawled, clearly delighted "And I'm gonna have to heal up some fuckin' holes now, because of you. Thanks for that. Didn't really work for you, did it?" He leaned back, crossing his arm "How about this, huh? I let you both out, but take a moment to look up the name 'Malphas' when you get home, alright? Just as a little favor to me."

He paused a moment, before reaching over to his door and hovering over the unlock button. Then he drew his hand back a little, looking directly at Taylor "One more thing." He dropped the amused tone, taking on a more serious one "Shoot me again, and I will not hesitate to snap you over my knee. Got it?"

He didn't wait for an answer, unlocking the door and slumping in his seat, any 'demonic' vibes from him vanishing once more, and other than the bullet holes, he just looked like a extremely tired detective. "Now get out of my car, you're real fucking lucky I gave you a ride. Especially after the shit you pulled, you know? I should have just kicked you back indoors and taken your brother myself. Seeya. Adios. Get the fuck out."
 
And, once he returned to the safety and the comfort of his large suburban home (which, thanks to the millions being a mafia boss gave him, was essentially a mansion), the first thing Taylor did was research. To say he was freaked out was an understatement. Initially, the idea of the other being a demon was something he scoffed at, even if he was confused and downright scared of what he'd witnessed. He knew that something was evidently different about Malphas, but anything demonic? Ha! That was just some scary story the other was spinning to scare him, right? Right?

Well, one simple Google search proved him wrong. Drastically wrong.

After scanning the page through at least a dozen times to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him (as well as pinching himself to make sure this wasn't some horrid nightmare), Taylor found solace in a bottle of whiskey. How would anyone deal with the news that the detective they'd been taunting for months wasn't just an asshole, but a demon? The literal proclaimed Prince of Hell? As he sat drinking (or rather, glugging) down his whiskey, he did assess his options.

Could he tell the police? Not at all. Not only were they never going to help him after all he'd done in Hildebran, they would think he'd lost his mind and either ridicule him for it, spread the rumour around and damage his reputation, or go to extreme lengths to institutionalise him in some horrid asylum 'for his own good'. Any way they could get him off the streets, they would take, and if he began babbling about demons and a failure to die, he was going to be thrown inside a mental asylum before he could blink.

Could he confront Malphas? Well, not unless he had a death wish. He couldn't kill him, and he didn't want to see him again. It was inevitable their paths would cross given Malphas' determination to have Taylor arrested and charged with a crime, and as much as he wanted to be confident and act like these revelations hardly mattered, he was smart enough to realise how scared he was going to be next time he came face to face with the monster.

Instead of drinking himself into oblivion, because that wasn't going to help matters, the way Taylor chose to deal with the fire blazing away in his brain was to distract himself with his daughter's presence. After palming off a handful of hundred-dollar bills to his daughter's mother to stop her complaints, he headed out with the young girl to the park. While he was a genuinely doting father, this was strategic on his part. He needed fresh air, he couldn't stay in his house a second longer, but like hell did he want to come face to face with Malphas again, fearing he would just be killed this time.

Yet, having his daughter lowered his chances of getting massacred. Malphas said he'd liked Seth, so he wasn't... completely heartless and cold to the world. The chances of him killing Taylor while he held his infant daughter were low, hence the decision to head out with her in her stroller. That said, he also figured the park was a safe enough place to hide - it was full of playing kids and mothers, and it was hardly the place for a detective of the city's police department to hang out.
 
"You are such a fucking disaster."

Malphas, originally, had just gone home, the whole incident off his mind. While it was most likely a big deal to Taylor, Mal was much less affected by it. He had many, many other things to worry about, because even though he hadn't died from normal bullets, there were things he had to fear. Unlikely rebellion, another demon trying to kill him, people who hunted supernatural creatures, and.....Gomory.

The last one was because she had a key to his apartment, and was pissed off. He forgot why he gave that to her.

When he got back, she was there, arms crossed and looking ready to murder him. Which, okay, wasn't too different from her regular mood, but it had been a tiring day, and he didn't want to deal with it right now. It took a solid hour for her rave to end, in which she stormed around the apartment, hands moving around as she spoke about problems in hell(which he didn't care about), people worrying about him(which he also didn't care about), and the fact that Aamon was coming up for one thing or another(which he kind of cared about, but not extremely so). After she simmered down, she had also demanded that she was going to stick by him for at LEAST a day, just to see 'what the hell he was actually doing with his life'.

So he had had to take a day off, and the next day he dragged her to the park, in hopes of making her bored enough to leave.

"Watch the language, Gom, there's children around here." He replied, apologetically waving to a nearby mother.

"I never got why you like anklebiters so much. They're tiny, more energetic versions of humans." She complained, basically hugging herself and sticking right next to him, eyeing the people around them suspiciously.

"Eh, they're more fun. Also, unlike you, I like some humans."

"Weirdo."

Mal rolled his eyes, and then saw Taylor out of the corner of his eye. With a smug look, he waved, but apparently that didn't please Gomory, because the curly-haired demon proceeded to tug at his hair- hard.

"Jesus, Gom, what was that for?" He complained, rubbing the side of his head with a scowl.

"You're wearing a old, baggy smiley-face t-shirt and sweatpants. You can't do threatening right now, and its honestly embarrassing." She replied, waving her hand dismissively at him and making a b-line for Taylor. When she got there, she placed her hands on her hips, looking him over.

"Oh, if he actually scares you, that's....kind of sad. Mal hasn't killed anyone in years. Awful, isn't it?" She said to him casually, flashing a smile "You must be the asshole he's trying to jail, right? I'm Gomory."

Mal stood back, scowl only growing. She had to get involved in everything, didn't she? God, he wished he could strangle her right now. After another moment, he stalked over to stand next to her, muttering "Language, Gom. Kids." as he did so.

At least the kid was cute.
 
In Taylor's eyes, this had been a foolproof plan.

The park was a place he didn't think Malphas had any reason to venture to. He, as far as Taylor was aware, didn't have children, and he didn't seem like the sort of guy who wanted to sit in the park where, just a few feet away, children screamed at the top of their lungs whilst playing on swings or on the slide.

That said, Taylor didn't have a clue what Malphas was like. He thought he did. For the months he was being investigated by him, he thought he'd noted the detective's personality down to a T. Obviously, he knew very little about him, which was why he couldn't feel too surprised when catching sight of him with some woman at his side. Malphas right about now was an enigma, and while the sight of him did cause the human to freeze and stiffen considerably, he also had the urge to just... laugh. It was fucking typical that, of all the places in the city, Malphas turned up in the exact place Taylor felt safest.

To his credit, he managed to stay where he was sat and maintained a casual posture, even if he wanted to both run off back home, and pull out his gun, shoot at the two and have a few mothers witness the fact neither could be killed. At least then he wouldn't be alone in freaking out.

Though, he was a father. A responsible one at that. Regardless of the crimes and the murders he committed, family was important-- especially the one-year old girl he'd helped create. Pulling out a gun with his daughter in his arms wasn't remotely responsible, so as much as he wanted to do that, he held back from doing so.

"...Why don't you fuck off? I assume you're one of his demon friends, yeah? Course you are. This just gets more absurd. Am I scared of him? Am I fuck. He's still a loser. Just a loser I can't kill, unfortunately. I was looking forward to the day I killed you, but alas, that ain't gonna happen," he retorted, assuming (and assuming correctly) that Gomory was a demon. The fact she spoke so freely of Malphas 'killing' people spoke volumes. Again, he was rather proud of himself. He didn't just manage to reply without a nervous stammer, but he managed to do so with the usual vitriol and disgust he reserved for people he detested-- like Malphas. If the situation wasn't so tense, he'd have patted himself on the back proudly.

Admittedly, the fact Malphas was donning some casual outfit helped to take him less seriously. He hardly looked like a threatening force when wearing that sort of attire.

"Do you mind pissing off, seriously? I'm not in the mood to deal with monsters, alright? I... I've barely got my head around this shit, and I ain't in the mood to try to converse with you freaks. I'm kinda busy," he continued while bobbing his knee up and down to keep his daughter entertained and not grizzly. He was barely coping with the demons. His daughter crying and screaming would tip him over the edge.
 
"Oh, see, I would, but I'd love to talk about how you shot him." Gomory said, cheerfully "Also, Mal loves kids. Don't you, Mal? And you have a kid, so I think we're going to stick around, you know?"

Of course she was doing this. She seemed to think he couldn't take care of his own issues, which was, frankly, annoying. Especially since Taylor wasn't even an issue at the moment. "Drop it, Gom. Let's just leave the guy alone." He prompted tiredly, hoping she would just agree. He could enjoy terrifying Taylor, but there was a point that dropping it was probably the best, and most mature, idea.

Gomory didn't agree, though.

Of course she didn't, she was a prick.

"Don't act like you're not physically stopping yourself from going over and cooing at that anklebiter, Mally. Man, if you're going to stuck around this shithole, you should adopt one of the lil fucks." She murmured, flicking the side of his head "Anyway, softie, just because you've gone all angelic and wanting to 'be a good person'- yuck! -I still do what I want, when I want. That includes annoying this guy." She rolled her eyes "You're sooooo lucky that no one has summoned you. Imagine the disappointment, being stuck with a demon that refuses to do anything demonic. Something obviously broke in your head."

"Okay, first of all, language, there's a kid right there. Tone it down." Mal snapped, turning to her "Second of all, I dragged you here to avoid conflict, not start it."

"What next? Are you gonna apologia to him on my behalf?"

Mal sighed, glancing at Taylor and deciding to do so just to spite her, "Yea, okay, sorry about her, enjoy the park with your kid, we're leaving." He hoped saying the last bit with force would get Gomory to agree. He began to walk away, hoping she would follow behind.

Which, she did. Eventually. It was after giving Taylor an annoyed look, as if he had personally ruined her day. But the fact she followed behind eventually was a blessing, and he was thankful for it.
 
Should he have been relieved when the two turned around and seemed intent on leaving?

Of course.

Logic and his own personal feelings at the moment dictated that he ought to let out a deep sigh in relief, gather himself together, and forget all about the two literal demons that both genuinely scared the fuck out of him, simply because of what they were. He may have acted like it hardly bothered him, and he may have managed to hold himself in the typical rough, intimidating way expected of a mafia boss... but he was petrified. He was human; mortal. They... weren't.

So yes, perhaps he should have sat back, realised how lucky he was that he wasn't burning alive right now, and then, when he had the time, put together a plan to deal with all of this.

Except, he didn't feel relieved at all. He found himself growing angrier by the second at the brief conversation, and the insults, and the fact his daughter was referred to in ways he really thought were derogatory. He hated people insulting him, but he could deal with that. God forbid anyone dare talk or refer to his daughter, though. Demon or not, he would gladly throttle anyone that dared talk like that about her--

Which is why he gave Gomory a hard shove in the back before he even realised what he was doing. As soon as the red anger flashed up in him, he found himself standing up and shoving a demon hard in the back. It was pointless trying to punch her and land some pain, because he realised it would probably break his hand and hurt him far more than it hurt her.

"You freaks stay away from me, alright? I... fucking... go back to wherever you came from, I mean-- Hell or whatever--" He began, only to promptly freeze up at the words leaving his mouth. He had struggled to fully come to terms with the situation, and it was only in this heat of the moment, vocalising them aloud, that he really realised the reality of it all. They were demons. From Hell. HELL. With Satan, the DEVIL, and fire and... and all of that.

Holy fuck.
 
Gomory paused, before whirling around and beginning to walk towards him, obviously pissed off "You think you can just do that, huh? You think you can just do that? I'm going to kill you, you fucking ape! I'm going to cut off your hands, I'd love to see you push me then! I'd love- Mal, let me go now!"

Malphas didn't picture this as the way his day would be going, holding back Gomory as she attempted to murder someone. Honestly, he had just been hoping that they could have a calm, BORING day at the park. Of course, that could never happen, God forbid! And now he was stuck with this disaster of a situation.

He looked over Gomory's shoulder at Taylor, who really should've just let them walk away, but hey, too late for that now, because nothing could be easy, could it?

"We were leaving, you could have just let that happen! Was that too hard for you? I regret ever letting you shoot me, that was a mistake- Gom, stop that, we're in the middle of a park!" Being almost a full head shorter than the other demon, the sight would most likely be comical to those who didn't know who they were "Look, just walk away, take your daughter for ice cream or something so I don't have to restrain her any longer, alright? Please."

This was turning out worse and worse by the minute.
 
"Do not tell me what to do with my own daughter, how about that? Control your friend, perhaps? Or maybe don't go to a park full of kids. Go to a bar instead, get drunk, try and hook up-- but hey, I guess that's not likely for either of you. How much does it hurt that the humans I assume you detest are far more attractive than you demon folk? Must suck, huh?" He replied slowly, mostly just to able to gauge the situation. Rather than the fast rants and babbles he gave a few seconds prior in his very obvious, and understandable, fear, he forced himself to stand back, take a deep breath and speak at a calmer pace, if only to be able to gather and control himself.

"I want nothing to do with you," he gladly confirmed - that at least seemed like a notion they could all mutually accept and agree on. "However, speak about my daughter again and, demon or fucking not, I ain't afraid to push your disgusting friend over, Malphas. I ain't scared of you. You're, what? A demon? I'm not afraid of that. Just means I gotta do my research before I, you know, kill you. I'm sure there's a way-- and hey, there are plenty of freaks in the world who study demonology and all that. I can find one easily enough. Money talks, y'know?"

Breathing hard, the blurt (that was more or less a straightforward and achievable threat) did fall out of his mouth before he really realised what he'd said. It wasn't something he'd even considered or researched prior to blurting it out, but now he had and had a few seconds to consider it, it wasn't too bad of an idea. Granted, the only experience he had of that sort of world was through horror movies, and that was hardly reliable, but he was pretty sure there were people across the globe who focused their lives on this-- and considering demons were real, the ridicule he'd previously held for those people had suddenly become genuine interest.

If he had to go to extreme lengths by conversing and working with someone like that to get rid of Malphas and go back to normality, he would. He wasn't prepared to be threatened and intimidated by the detective, so sure, he was willing to do anything to achieve what he'd wanted for months: Malphas' death.
 
Well, this was great. Perfect. He had to fucking with deal with this mess now. This is why he needed to stop being impulsive, because then, shit like this happens! He wasn't exactly excited to have supernatural hunters or whatever-the-fuck swarming his door.

"Yea, okay, you hate me, blah blah, you're dropping lower than a prince of hell, great." He said, keeping his cool as much as he could which restraining Gomory "That's fantastic, I don't care! Go ahead, but hey, feel free to keep in mind that I'm not actively trying to kill you. Or the fact I helped you. While you're at it, let's add the fact I'm currently stopping someone from trying to kill you, and the fact that you're the one fucking everything up for me, and I have STILL stopped myself from putting you six feet under! But sure, go ahead and kill me, if you like, glad you're that paranoid about a guy like me. Warms my heart." He seethed "Do you think I want anything to do with YOU? Do you? Because I was doing fan-fucking-tastic before you came into the picture! I have a decent job, an apartment, and I was able to almost completely drop the whole 'aggression issues' thing! I was doing GREAT! And now you're here, and god, I have had to physically stop myself from pulling a gun. You are, quite literally, the only person- ONLY PERSON -I detest this much!"

Mal had let go of Gomory at this point, but she stood by, watching him rant with an amused expression. He had stopped caring, though "Do you want me to point you in the direction of some resources? You know, since you'd love to know how to kill me. Maybe I can help. At least after that I won't be obligated to deal with you."

He paused, taking a few deep breaths, and looked ready to continue, but Gomory ended up stopping him, patting him on the back "While this is funny, we're in a park, Mal. What did you say before? To tone it down? Yea." she said, but quite obviously would be fine, maybe even happy, if Malphas continued to yell.

Instead, though, he simply ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. God, this was a mess. Now he had to worry about demonology experts, and Aamon was coming around soon, and why did he have to fuck this up? He had been doing so well. He'd been keeping a low profile! And then this happened.
 
The ranting, raving and, hell, downright screaming could have resulted in making Taylor uneasy. He was being yelled at by a proclaimed Prince of Hell, second only to Satan himself-- if what he read on Wikipedia was truthful, and he was hardly about to ask Malphas to give him a history lesson anytime soon. By any standard, being yelled at like this, being hated so vitriolically by any demon was possibly a frightening thing to witness, especially if it was directed at you.

And yet, rather than cower or stumble back, Taylor's eyebrow arched almost bemusedly-- an expression he'd often worn during the many times he'd teased Malphas in the past.

There was, after all, something incredibly funny in being ranted at by this supposedly dangerous and formerly bloodthirsty demon while he was wearing a colourful, casual outfit and being talked to by his taller friend. Hell, scratch that: it was hilarious.

"I'd calm down if I were you. I'm pretty sure demons can bust a vein, right? Or, at least, get migraines. You're giving me one. Even Emily here doesn't get this loud," he snorted, making sure his ridiculing tone was overt and unsubtle. What better way of showing Malphas that he wasn't intimidated any longer than returning to the snarky, joking behaviour he'd kept up for months? Sure, he wanted nothing more than to never see this guy again, but when he did, he wasn't going to cower away in fear. Nah, that would just be weak-- and Taylor wasn't weak. He detested weakness.

"Is that it, then? Are we done here? Go scuttle off into the depths of despair, then. Ain't like you got anything better to do. You could go to work, but hey, your work revolves around incriminating me, and that ain't gonna happen anytime soon."
 
Malphas was considering cannon balling off a cliff and saving Taylor the trouble. It'd be better than this shit show. Aggravated, he took a deep breath once more, before exhaling. Okay. Calm. He could do this. He could handle this jackass, right? He'd done it before, and he'd do it again.

Without another word, he grabbed Gomory's arm, dragging the taller demon behind him as he began to walk away. It was the mature thing to do, and hell, he wasn't usually mature, but it was beneficial to be just this once. He'd deal with the slew of issues that came with someone knowing about him later.
 
By the time next morning broke, to say Taylor was sleep-deprived was a grave understatement. He was exhausted and, despite having downed three cups of black coffee before leaving his home, he donned dark rings under his eyes as a result of the one or two hours sleep he'd managed to get.

The reason behind it was simple: he'd stayed up all night with a bottle of expensive wine, sipping away at it as he researched how to get in contact with some demonology expert. Now he knew those creatures existed, he knew there were people out there who could help get rid of them. People whose claims often fell on deaf ears unless speaking to people, like Taylor, who had evidence of demons.

Eventually, he came into contact with a man from the neighbouring town, who claimed only to be willing to help once his church duties as a pastor were fulfilled-- until Taylor dropped Malphas' name. As soon as the name left his lips, the pastor promised to arrive in a day or two, no later than that. He knew who Taylor was and was understandably wary of getting involved, but the money he was promised, as well as the infamous demon who stood to be killed, was too enticing to turn a blind eye to.

However exhausted it all left Taylor, he was smug as he sat back in his usual cafe, strangely by himself rather than with his friends. They were supposed to be meeting him, but, as strange as their disappearance was, it was a good thing they weren't there. Taylor was feeling pretty damn pleased with himself and, should his friends have been sat with him, he wouldn't have been able to keep quiet-- and telling them about demons and pastors would have just earned him ridicule.

His smugness did cloud his mind, however. He was so pleased with himself for setting it all up, and so eager to see Malphas lose his life, that he failed to really acknowledge just how... odd it was his friends hadn't showed. They would never deliberately fail to show for breakfast, knowing just how infuriated it would make their boss, and it was almost suicidal to disobey him. Truth was, all of his friends were currently reaping the consequences of the nightclub fight, all currently tied up somewhere by the rival gang members they'd beat up. They weren't dead, not yet, but simply apprehended, unable to get to Taylor and defend him from the approaching attack. Taylor was exhausted and caught up in his own thoughts, so much so he didn't notice the two heavily-cloaked men that entered, sat down in a booth and slipped out a gun, waiting for the right moment to aim for a head shot.
 
Malphas had just wanted some food.

He didn't need to eat, sure, but sometimes it was just nice. Considering recent events, he needed something nice in his life. So he'd gone to get something to distract himself with, and, unfortunately, Taylor was there in another booth. At first, Mal was a little pissed- he wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting, honestly, but he wanted to dine in peace. So, he hadn't drawn attention to himself.

But then he noticed the cloaked figures.

And then, the gun. Which was about to shoot Taylor.

There was a small moment that he considered letting it just happen, letting one issue take out another. But then he thought it over, and he just couldn't let that happen. Gomory was right, he was going soft. But wasn't that the reason he was up there in the first place?

In the time it had taken him to think, the person had already gotten the gun lined up, so he needed to act fast. He grabbed the person's arm, pushing it as they shot so it would miss Taylor's head, which it thankfully did. The wall would need some touch-up, but it at least wasn't covered in blood.

He wrestled the gun out of their hand- the force of which sent it skidding onto the floor -and tugged out his own gun, pointing it at them.

If they had another gun, he was going to just straight-up murder himself.
 
For once, he and Malphas had the exact same desire: a nice, quite, drama-free breakfast.

Shame nothing went the way you wanted them to go in life.

He had just been sipping on his fourth coffee of the morning, aimlessly flipping through a local newspaper and highlighting anything mentioning him he took offence to in order to track down the writer and make them pay. It was just a nice, casual morning where he could, for once, relax and take time for himself before getting on with some business. He had a nightclub to clean up and put back together, and a full breakfast was paramount before getting into all of that stress.

And then a bullet shot just above his head and into the wall behind him, shattering a framed picture of the countryside into several pieces.

He was at least glad there were no other customers in the diner that early. Not because he cared about other people's welfare, but simply because he couldn't put up with their childish, pathetic blood-curdling screams at this time of the morning. Having jumped to his feet with his own gun in hand automatically, he took a moment to assess the situation once realising he wasn't hurt and the bullet had definitely missed him. Other than a tiny cut across his cheek because of the shattering glass above him, he was more or less unharmed, and that assurance gave him time to realise what the fuck had just gone on.

Which was when he realised his life had been saved-- but Malphas. Fucking MALPHAS of all people. Like the demon, he did just consider leaving him get showered with bullets by the figures he recognised now as rival gang members. That way, more people would see the demon as inhuman, and that would suit the narrative perfectly - he could discuss it properly with his friends without them thinking he was crazy-- but he didn't. He couldn't do any of that. He may often be a complete asshole, but he was grateful and he did show appreciation.

And the appreciation he showed this time was to calmly stroll across, deal two bullets in either man's head and, blocking out the screams of the waitress, reached into the pockets of the coats to take the wallets. After almost being killed by them, he figured the least they owed him was some cash.

"...I take it you aren't going to arrest me. It was self-defence," he casually drawled, counting the notes out in the wallets before smiling and pocketing them for myself, allowing his eyes to move away and lock onto Malphas. He wasn't going to tug him into a hug and thank him breathlessly for saving him, not at all-- but he did offer an awkward shrug and a brief smile.

"Funny this, ain't it? You saving me. Your life would be fucking boring without me, so I get why you did it. And hey, you can thank me for killing those guys for you by, you know, not mentioning this was me. That waitress won't talk to the police, she's too smart to do something silly like that-- how about I thank you by buying you breakfast somewhere that isn't splattered with blood? Come on, do you hate me that much you can't accept some croissants? I don't want to buy a murderous demon breakfast either, pal, but I have manners. You saved me, I'll buy you breakfast. Simple."
 
Mal paused, before putting his gun away. The thought of arresting Taylor, for once, hadn't even crossed his mind. But even when it was pointed out that he did, in fact, now have evidence for it, he found that he wasn't particularly willing to. After all, Taylor HAD saved him the trouble of dealing with more people realizing he wasn't exactly human. He wasn't that petty.

"I didn't save you just to shove you into a jail cell, surprisingly." He said, looking rather awkward now that he was actually faced with a somewhat friendly conversation "But trust me, I didn't come up here for excitement. I could actually use the opposite. But I guess we all don't get what we want." He glanced off to the side, contemplating the offer a little, before looking back and shrugging "Alright, fine. I'm not gonna turn down free food, that'd be dumb."

If there was one thing he'd learned in his time up there, it was that if something was free, it was generally a good thing to take it. Food samples? Great. Free pens? Surprisingly useful. So he certainly wasn't going to say no to a whole meal, even if it was with someone he happened to dislike.
 
As genuine as the offer was, there was a small part of Taylor that decided this was the perfect way to lull the demon into a false sense of security. That way, he was hardly going to be expecting a pastor to turn up with the methods of killing him, effectively. Granted, Taylor did blurt out the plan-- but it didn't seem like much of a threat at the time. It seemed like a throw-away statement said to scare someone, not a genuine threat he was going to build upon. Thankfully, he could use that to his advantage.

Although... well, he felt a little guilty about it now. He hated that feeling. Guilt. He hated feeling guilty or regretful, though planning to have someone killed just after they'd saved your life wasn't going to be easy. He could convince himself that he was doing the town a great favour by ridding them of a demon who could, theoretically, grow bored of the 'good' lifestyle' and massacre them all-- but it didn't make the feeling settle. He wasn't backing out (not yet, at least) but he was simply going to cover that feeling up and ignore it as best as he could. He'd wanted Malphas dead for months. Him saving his life like this didn't change the fact he was an annoying piece of shit who wasn't human.

"...I did research you on Google, by the way," he murmured, deciding that the topic would at least distract from the two murders that had just been committed, and it definitely helped to cover his guilt. The more he reminded himself that the shorter man was a monster, the less regretful he would be when staring down at his dead body. "Pretty... it's pretty fucking weird, mate. I mean-- I dunno. You don't scare me. It's just... strange, I guess. Not what most humans are used to dealing with. Hey, guess that makes me sorta unique, huh? I'm just casually strolling alongside a demon, no biggie."
 
That actually caused Malphas to laugh a little, though whether it was in discomfort or amusement was unclear "Shooting someone and having them not die must be a new occurrence for you, I can imagine." He replied, fixing his jacket a little "And yea, I guess it's pretty fucking unique to be doing that while actually knowing the person is a demon. Props to you."

Having someone not be scared of him while still knowing was new. He wasn't sure if it was unwanted or not, though. On one hand, he'd really love to continue hating Taylor- though it was getting a bit harder to do, admittedly, but the human didn't have to know that -and him not being terrified of Mal should piss him off. On the other, he was used to people being scared, and having casual conversation could get pretty difficult when that was going on.

On another other hand, it was a little weird. Or actually, a lot weird.

"I'm actually curious, since I've never looked myself up, what's google got to say about me?" He decided to ask, placing his hands in his pockets. He wasn't going to relax completely, but they didn't seem to be completely at each others throats right now, so he figured relaxing a LITTLE wouldn't kill him.
 
"You've never looked yourself up? If I was the Prince of the Underworld, I'd be researching myself every second of the day. It's just the basic stuff you expect of demons, you know? Again, none of it really intimidated me-- not as much as I thought. I mean, no offence, but it's sort of hard to be scared of you when you'r wearing cutesy sweaters and you're a few inches shorter than me. If you were 6'5" in a leather jacket and spiked boots, I'd be fucking terrified," he admitted. As truthful as the statement was, he also knew he was glossing over the fact he'd been petrified out of his skin for a few hours, too scared to even move from his bed.

Admitting to that was hardly wise, though. As strangely cordial things currently were, he knew they weren't best friends. This was simply a thank you for saving his life. It didn't mean they were going to start having sleepovers and sharing their deepest, darkest secrets. If so, he'd have honestly opened up about how initially scared he had been. Instead, he decided to play it off as though he got over it in a few seconds.

"So, have you, like, met the Devil? What's he like?" He suddenly asked, pushing his blacked-out sunglasses over his eyes once the surprisingly strong morning sun broke out from beneath the clouds. He knew that most people in Hildebran knew who he was, so he was pretty sure that, by the end of the day, rumour would be spread aplenty about him casually strolling and conversing with a well-known detective-- but hey, there was no such thing as bad publicity, right? "That's fucking batshit crazy. Like, last week I was an atheist, didn't believe in any of this crazy stuff. Now there are demons in Hell and, by default, a Heaven and... I'm just a human, you know? I like my normal, law-abiding human life without all this mind-blowing, fantasy shit."
 
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