[ potassiumboron & tragictrees ] Trouble's Brewing

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"I'm not aiming to be terrifying, and sweaters are comfortable, alright? And I haven't looked myself up because it didn't exactly matter to me. Seems pretty fucking egotistical to be doing that." Mal replied, a lame attempt to defend his honor "Besides, who knows what the people who have summoned me before put up there?"

He knew Taylor was right about his look, though, because he wasn't that threatening. 5'4 wasn't exactly an optimal height for scaring people, and the clothes he wore were either outfits thrown together haphazardly, or something comfortable that still looked decent. Leather jackets were uncomfortable, and he wasn't a fan of boots. He'd rather be cozy than uncomfortable and vaguely scary.

"Uh, first of all, you're not fucking law-abiding and we both know that." He said, addressing the next statements "And I'm pretty sure you're not normal by human standards. But that aside, yea, I've met the devil. He's....something. I don't know. Most of the time I just talk business with him, if I talk with him at all. I'm usually...helping someone out, up here. Summonings and all that. People are overrated. I don't go out of my way to be a fucking social butterfly."
 
For a brief moment, Taylor genuinely believed that the other had used some cunning mind trick to manipulate how Taylor thought and behaved. He wasn't too sure just what demons could do, but he sure mental manipulation was a power some inhabited-- and he, for a few seconds, began to worry that that had been done to him.

Why? Because it felt fucking odd that he was enjoying the other's company.

Malphas possessed everything that juxtaposed Taylor. He was trying to forge a better path for himself; Taylor had no intentions of getting out of his criminal life. Most glaringly, Malphas was a demon, and Taylor was just your bog-standard, mortal human.

Yet, as he slipped into a downtown cafe and took a seat away from the window, he couldn't help but admit to himself he was enjoying the other's company, and a few more seconds contemplating that, he realised it was of his own free will. If Malphas was going to use his powers, he would have done so already-- and why would he use them to befriend Taylor? That seemed absurd-- because it was. The reality was that, when they got past the bullshit and their differences and all of that drama they'd had, they were getting on.

Jeez, that was bewildering... and it made it all the more harder knowing he was organising a man to come and have him killed.

"Is the devil big and red and stuff? I dunno, I'm just going off the horror movies I've seen," he shrugged, pushing his glasses off and, for the first time, offered across a genuine, handsome grin to his breakfast companion. "I thought demons had horns and were red and had pointed tails."
 
"That's- no way. That's a myth. Kind of." Malphas said, actually chuckling a bit at the notion and allowing himself to smile, before beginning to explain "I mean, the horns are real. Tails too. None of us are 'big and red', though. Lucifer looks more like a CEO than anything you would find in your horror movies. Suits, combed back hair, all that. Though he'd be a shitty CEO." He paused, before decided to add "I, uh, there's a few differences between one demon and the next, though? I mean, different horns and all that, and usually we all have some sorta....animal or something we take after. Like, I have crow wings. Or had, if that makes sense."

When he was actually doing more than getting angry and ranting, it became clear how much he actually stumbled over his words as he spoke. It was something that happened when he got excited, though he'd never admit he was excited at the moment. But he loved being asked questions and giving out information, because that's what he was generally summoned for back in the day.

He'd get information about enemies. He could read their minds, sort of influence their thoughts a bit as well. Of course, he could do other things- he was known for using magic, and he could animate a gollem every now and then -but often it was all war and strategy. He figured that was where his attitude toward murder being a solution came from.

He was so caught up in talking that he practically forgot that he was supposed to hate this guy and be putting him in jail. What could he say? He was easily distracted.
 
"It's still all batshit crazy to me, ain't gonna lie. Oh well, I'll probably be killed within a year and then I'll be in Hell and see all this for myself, yeah? Whilst being tortured for the rest of eternity for my sins, or whatever the Bible says. I didn't pay attention at church, not my thing," continued the human, having respected the other enough to let him talk breathlessly and answer every question he'd passed his way.

In the past, he'd often deliberately interrupted the demon to piss him off. Every time he was questioned about his whereabouts, or just in general to determine if he was guilty of a crime, Taylor had butted in and interrupted with an inane and irrelevant remark.

Now, though, he sat back and listened, drunk it all in, because he was genuinely interested in it all. It still scared him, but, having comforted himself with the hope Malphas wasn't going to kill him,he felt relatively safe in his company-- yet he was repaying him by setting up his potential death. Oh well.

"Or maybe I'll start going to church. My Dad was really into that, and maybe I can repent and get to Heaven, who knows. Miracles can happen. I'm sure Hell's just fine and dandy, but the idea of being tortured the rest of my life ain't fun. I'm all for violence, love the stuff, but... getting stabbed with a pitchfork like a piece of meat ain't ideal."
 
"I don't think that's ideal to anyone." Malphas pointed out "But I also don't think you're going to repent. No offense, but taking a glance at your tack record, it seems pretty fucking unlikely that you'll be putting a stop to anything and heading down to your local place of worship. Though I'm probably not the best person to judge who is gonna repent and who isn't. I'm a little botched on that as well."

He never really got Church. It had always seemed like a cult to him. Repeating statements, making 'sacrifices', eating 'flesh' and drinking 'blood'...it was all just so odd, and that was coming from a literal demon. He could get having a set of morals and following those, but having to worship someone just so you can have a good time not being tortured after you die? That took it a bit too far.

Who was he to judge, though? He was one of the few demons that would fuck over people who gave him material sacrifices, but it wasn't like that made him any better. He still got summoned, and he still was, sort of, worshiped. Well, in a way. Having the title 'Prince of Hell' certainly had its share of followers.

He still hated the idea of Church, though, even if his opinion was a bit biased.
 
"I ain't going, don't worry. You'll get to see me down in Hell in a few years, fucking moaning because I'm too hot and getting repeatedly stabbed in the kidneys for it. I don't think it's fair that I'm destined to head down there, by the way. Sure, I murdered a few people and, yeah, maybe I am a criminal-- but I'm just having fun. Is it a crime to have fun?" He grumbled, resting his head on his hand while calmly eyeing the customers in the cafe, if only to shoot glares at anyone daring to look his direction. He realised he was admitting -finally- that he was the criminal guilty of abhorrent things that Malphas had always known him to be, but, even if Malphas did still want to have him arrested after all of this, he only had his word to go on. It was hardly much evidence when they weren't sat in a station with his voice on record, so why bother holding back on confessing now when they both knew he wasn't squeaky clean?

Although, he didn't for one second feel guilty about his inevitable venture to Hell when he died. Even if he'd chosen a different path and worked for charities, being the pillar of his community, his sexuality dictated he'd end up in Hell. He was bisexual, with an self-admitted preference for men, and from what his homophobic father had always ranted, that wasn't looked on too fondly. So, if it was to be believed that he'd end up there for his sexuality, there was literally nothing he could have done to escape his fate. If he'd been an angel in human form, he'd still have got sent to the fiery pits of Hell just for fancying a guy.

"Look, I'm only gonna say this once. You ain't that bad for a guy that's spent months trying to imprison me, and you sure as hell ain't too bad for a demon, I guess. Saying that, the only other demon I've met is that mate of yours and, no offence, I don't like her. She sort of insulted my daughter and-- I dunno. Say what you will about me, but you don't fucking talk about my kid, y'know?"
 
"Gomory is an acquired taste." Mal agreed, leaning back a bit "She's against what I'm doing, obviously, and that's the only reason she's stuck around this long. She thinks she'll be able to convince me to ditch. Unfortunately, I hate listening to people, so the most she's done is convince me to continue settling in, only now giving her the middle finger while I'm at it. So yea, she isn't exactly here to make friends." He paused, before adding "Sorry about that, by the way. She doesn't fucking think before she speaks, and even if she did, she's a bit of an asshole. Your daughter seems like a good kid."

Gomory was more than an asshole. She was basically fueled by spite, and even if she liked you, she'd be insulting you anyway. It had taken a while for Mal to actually get used to her, and he only did through the help of Aamon, who was insistent that his two companions actually get along.

So, yea. He wasn't exactly surprised Taylor didn't like Gomory. Almost no one did.
 
"I'm not a huge fan of her, no. You're entitled to have who you like as a friend, though. Who am I to judge--"

Fuck. Fuckity fucking... fuck.

That pretty much summed up how Taylor was feeling the moment he scanned his phone. He'd felt it buzz in his pocket several times but had ignored it simply because... well, he didn't want to be bogged down. He assumed his friend were tied up somewhere-- but they were grown adults who knew how to get out of sticky situations. He was enjoying his breakfast the moment the plate of bacon and eggs arrived, and he didn't want to read a text that brought him down.

But the constant buzzing eventually proved too much, and his casual grin faded at the messages left by Pastor Jones who, seemingly, had decided to abandon all prior plans and take the short trip into Hildebran.

'Just to inform you I will shortly be arriving in Hildebran where do you want to meet to discuss things? PJ'

'I've now arrived. I'll be set up in the local church. I await your company. PJ'

'Are you still interested in this? This is God's work we'll be doing. Don't disappoint. Come soon, you have 30mins before I grow weary. PJ'

Now, if Taylor was genuinely relaxed and eager about Malphas' death, he would have found time to inwardly laugh at the proper language the Pastor used in his texts. It was almost commendable how grammatically correct his text-speak was.

Except, Taylor wasn't relaxed and he wasn't eager. There were two reasons behind his sudden change of heart:

  1. He was genuinely quite fearful of the consequences if the Pastor managed to kill the demon sat across from him. The only demon they were targeting was Malphas... which meant it was incredibly possible -and likely- that Gomory could react in a violent fashion. After Taylor's attack on her, he didn't think she needed many reasons to kill him.
  2. And secondly... He really was starting to like the other opposite him. Taylor didn't have many conversations like this. Most of his friends wanted to talk about girls and drugs and sex. None of them wanted conversations about anything else. Malphas, on the other hand, seemed quite happy to talk about anything.
And now Taylor was helping plan his murder. He was still on the fence, he hadn't backed out completely, and he knew he would only realise what to do when it came down to the wire-- which meant he still had to set up a scenario in which the Pastor and Malphas were in the same vicinity.

"I... hey, do you want to hit somewhere else after this? Unless you're too cool to, you know, hang out with a dumb human like me."
 
Malphas didn't answer at first, looking confused. Which, he was. There was no doubting that originally, Taylor disliked him. In fact, it was the same vice versa. However, Malphas was also a fickle creature when it came to things like this, and was easily swayed on whether he liked or disliked people, so it was no surprised that his opinion was already changing. Taylor, however, was a different story.

But then again, maybe he wasn't. What did Mal have to worry about, either way? Bullets wouldn't kill him, and neither would anything Taylor could possibly get his hands on. Also, they had JUST had a lovely conversation- in his own opinion -and why ruin that with a murder? So maybe it wasn't a trick.

He'd just need to be cautious, he decided. He nodded a bit "...Well, I s'pose I still need to grab some incriminating evidence against you, right?" he said, though it was obviously not a serious statement "But I would like to know what the hell you're planning to do."
 
"It's called hanging out. It's what humans do. I don't know what you demons do as friends, but humans talk, hang out, grab a coffee. I mean, even me, a mafia boss, hangs out with a few pals. I mean, holy shit, dude. Do you want to a) go back to fiercely hating me and stressing every second about catching me, or b) going to grab a coffee, take a walk around and, you know, try and be civil. Being mates with a demon could prove useful to me," he grinned, offering a playful nudge under the table with his foot in the hopes that simple action would show the other that, hey, Taylor was a decent guy who was simply looking to hang out. He could sense the cautiousness, and he needed to put a stop to that.

Right now, he was still on the fence over what he wanted to do, and until he decided (which would probably be at the scene itself), he needed to win the other's trust. However hard that was to do.

"Holy shit, are you that distrustful of people? I can't kill you, can I? I ain't even gonna try to hurt you. I bet if I tried, I'd break several bones, huh? So chill," he sighed, resting his head on his hand again and nudging him under the table again swiftly. "Yeah? Are you gonna come for a coffee after this or are you gonna be a baby about it?"
 
He pursed his lips, thinking it over. Taylor WAS right, he supposed. Not that the human would break any bones if he tried, but it just simply wasn't possible for any harm to come Mal's way. So, it wasn't exactly like he was risking anything, right? No harm done to anyone. Or, he hoped.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair "Fine, fine. Sure. Just don't try anything, or I'll call Gomory. She'll be more than willing to kick your ass after what happened before." He warned, but it wasn't exactly a serious threat. He honestly didn't think anything would happen.

Sure, he was still suspicious. Hell, even if he knew Taylor more, he'd be suspicious. But maybe it wouldn't turn out to be a bad thing.
 
"Oh, because I'm so very, very scared of her. If she did tear me apart, you'll just have to put up with me whining about it in Hell when you eventually decide to go back. If there's one thing you know about me, it's that I'm persistent. Do you want me whining and pestering you for thousands of years because you friend killed me? No? Then it's your prerogative to keep her the fuck away from me, I'm serious," he grunted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, making very little effort to be graceful and use sufficient table manners. He wasn't going to suddenly change his behaviour just because he was in Malphas' company - hell, what use would that be?

"It's just gonna be us grabbing a coffee and talking. I need to sort out this whole detecting shit. How about you give up the case on me, yeah? In return, I'll... I dunno, I won't pester you and taunt you," he suggested with a growing smile. Admittedly, having the other killed would at least mean no detective was stubbornly pursuing him, and it would subsequently offer a good amount of breathing space.
 
"I already put up with you whining as it is. I think I can handle it." Mal said, rolling his eyes "And, not that I'm particularly eager to get you jailed at this point, but I'm not going to drop it because I really would rather not get fired. Because, you know, I have that whole job thing going on. Which I need. To pay for my apartment. In which I live. It's called capitalism, I think."

He was pretty sure telling his superiors that he wasn't going to do what they told him to do was a sure fire way to get....well.....fired. And he couldn't have that happened. It was silly, seeing as he was a demon, and generally those didn't have to worry about petty things such as 'taxes', but here he was. He couldn't be homeless, or he'd end up going back, and....

He really didn't want to go back. Hell was hell for a reason, even for those who 'worked' in it.
 
"You ain't gonna drop it? Maybe I should go call up one of those freaks who study demonology and have you, like, pinned to the wall with a cursed blade or whatever. You're still gonna pursue my arrest? But we're buddies now!" He groaned, acting as though this was all a huge joke and that nothing he himself had said ought to be taken seriously - he offered a lighthearted chuckle after the threat to show definitively that he meant nothing by it.

It was obviously a forced, feigned laugh, of course. If anything, the fact the other was persisting with his job only served to piss the human off, and it gave him some ammunition to go through with the plan he'd concocted overnight. A plan that, the closer they were walking to the church, was closer to reaching fruition.

"I mean, I genuinely think you have the hots for me. Why can't you go find someone to arrest who'll actually stand a chance of getting charged and sent down? The longer you chase me, the more annoyed your bosses are gonna get when they see you ain't got any arrests on your record 'cos you're chasing down me-- and I ain't ever gonna get imprisoned, pal. No-fucking-way."
 
"As I said, I'm not exactly set on it anymore." Malphas said "I don't 'have the hots' for you, and I don't want to put you in jail, because even if I still hated you, its getting boring. Best I can do is prove your 'innocence'- which, while nonexistent, would get me off the job. And, it would put a pause on people trying to arrest you. So I won't drop the job, but maybe I can do that." He shrugged "Take it as you like. Payment for shooting those guys, maybe. Or, maybe, me just being bored with you. Either works."

He paused, before continuing "And it wouldn't be a 'cursed' blade. Holy. It's a holy blade."

He was truly done with the job either way. Any motivation to put Taylor in jail, which was fueled by spite, had tapered off, and he was just left with nothing. No desire. And it was hard to do something with that. So he'd probably just let the human off the hook, in a way.
 
"You seriously don't fancy me? That's a bummer. Am I into guys? No, but I always appreciate someone's affections and a good compliment or two-- nah, fuck that. You gotta see I'm handsome. I refuse to believe you don't like me a little. If I were gay, you'd be the type of guy I'd like," he complimented in return. For whatever reason -and one he hadn't yet worked out himself- he was somewhat eager to get a confession out of the demon that he thought Taylor was attractive. Maybe it was the whole thing of having a powerful demon have those sorts of feelings, but he knew deep down that the other being a demon was irrelevant, really.

He just felt a little crappy knowing Malphas didn't have any feelings for him other than a very early, budding acquaintanceship.

That thought did scare him a little, or, perhaps more precisely, it unnerved him. He found guys attractive all the time, but he'd never been desperate to have them share his attentions-- until now. Now, he really wanted to be complimented, to be liked and be called attractive, because he felt those things towards Malphas-- even if he was prepared to die rather than admit it.
 
"If it helps your ego, you're not the LEAST attractive person I've ever seen." He replied flippantly "But don't let it get to your head too much, you have too much ego as it is."

Taylor WAS attractive. Malphas would admit that to himself. He wouldn't admit it completely out loud, but he could at least admit it in his head. It wasn't exactly odd for him to find someone attractive, though. He did it all the time. Demon, human, didn't matter, didn't really factor into it. So, it wasn't really surprising that Taylor fell into that group.

But he could do without knowing. Mal was sure he'd make some sort of comment, considering the amount of times he'd assured that he was 100% not gay. After reaching some sort of friendly relationship, he'd like to avoid that.
 
Aaand there it was. An agreement.

Granted, it was hardly a solid, concrete and clear admission, but it was probably the best he was going to manage to squeeze out of him at the time being. Considering they'd only just started down this new path of acquaintanceship, he wasn't expecting any grandiose declarations of attraction... so sure, he was willing to count this as a personal achievement.

"I knew it, you know? It's the tattoos, ain't it? You're into the tough guy look, I get it. For the record, you're pretty cute-- for a guy, you know? I'm not gay, but I can say a guy's cute, can't I?" He shrugged, casually laughing as though he could hide how dubious his remarks were. He was getting incredibly defensive and somewhat flustered, and quite clearly so.

He put his defensiveness down to the fact they were just a stone's throw from the church now, and he had to find a way to convince the other to step inside, maybe under the guise of 'checking it out' and 'messing shit up'... but deep down, he realised his reaction stemmed from the fact he was interested in men and hiding it was generally beating him down.

"...Nice church, huh? What happens if you go inside one? Do you, like, burst into flames~?"
 
"The whole thing isn't heavily blessed, so the worst I'll get is just uncomfortable." Mal replied, eyeing the building "Things like holy water and crosses hurt like a bitch. Bibles are awful as well, so are the verses in them. But I can walk into the church no problem."

He didn't like going into churches anyway, though. Nothing good happened in churches. Everything that they were associated with was just plain awful. So, generally, he avoided them, along with priests and deacons. Nuns, too.

He would never understand people that went to church. He supposed that was mainly because of how biased he was on the subject, but even if he were human, he was sure he'd have the same opinion.
 
"But you're probably way too much of a chicken to go in one, yeah? I get it, you don't have to make an excuse. You're a mighty, scary demon, but a church is still too frightening for you. You poor lamb," he sarcastically mocked. After months of getting to know the detective, mostly through research of his own he'd obtained through illegal avenues, he'd learnt mostly from their face-to-face interactions, and he knew that, through the art of mockery and taunting, he could get him to do as he wished.

Anyone called a chicken would probably like to prove otherwise, would they?

To push him toward a decision, he casually strolled up to the church, at least proud of the way he'd managed to approach the church without it looking suspicious. It did just seem like a dare, rather than him luring the demon to his very possible death.
 
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