Doublejango - A Helluva Mess

Fuck all of this bullshit. Blitz heard Angel out, listened to every damn word, and he hated all of it, because he understood. Angel didn't seem to think he would, or could, but that was the damnable misery of shit like their lives: one couldn't help thinking they were suffering more than others somehow, or that there wasn't any way things could get better, or that someone couldn't understand.

The imp's tail wasn't often very animated around people he didn't know well, but he and Angel had been becoming friends recently, and he cared now. So, seeing Angel's distress, hearing it, and feeling his own, his tail started to twitch in sinuous little frustrated movements.

Blitz looked at their hands for a long moment, then shook his head and turned away, letting go. He started pacing.

There was shit he didn't tell people. He didn't tell Stolas. He didn't tell Moxxie. Only one person he could even remotely consider a friend knew, but nobody was going to ask Fizz about it, and Fizz wouldn't squeal on him anyway.

"You don't need to protect me," Blitz said. "If Valenfuckingtino wants to try shit with me, he's welcome to. I've dealt with a lot fucking worse. I know, I know. He's dangerous. It's Hell, everyone's dangerous, everyone's an asshole. And I do." He looked up, golden eyes practically blazing, and stopped pacing. "I do know the life of a sex worker. Not all of them are--completely fucked up by it. And some of them--us," he amended, tears shining momentarily bright in his eyes, "started real fuckin' young, because we didn't get a choice." The anger and shame made his voice break, and he quickly turned away from Angel.

"So Val's a psycho. Who here isn't?" Blitz pressed a hand to his face. "I just... don't want to lose you as a friend, alright? Whether that means I need to march in there and beat the shit out of Val," not that he really believed he could, but Blitz would try, and he would use every resource and trick at his disposal to make it work, "or we just pretend everything's fuckin' fine so we can cope, I don't... just...

"Don't leave. Alright? Please. Don't... leave. Me?"

Continued for @doublejango

Angel felt terrible for laughing, but it was impossible not to. Here was Blitz, thinking that he was going to fuck up Angel? It was the funniest joke he had heard in his afterlife. Sure, he still didn't know Blitz fully to a degree, but they all had their secrets. Especially in Hell. He shook his head, hiding the rest of his giggles at this point behind two of his hands, before snorting and pushing his hands through his hair. "Yeh' hysterical. Good one. If yeh' don't already think ah'm fucked up, yeh' clearly don't know the life of a sex worker."

He stressed, in a way of trying to affirm to Blitz that the imp would never be able to do more damage to him than he had already done to himself. He was certainly caught off guard, however, by the next things out of the smaller's mouth. The way that Blitz developed a sense of anger, enough so that Angel immediately laced his bottom two hands together, wringing them a bit nervously. He could handle anger, but he always prepared for the blow that was to often come from it.

"Ah' ain't wantin' tah' puss out." He stressed, shaking his head. "It's just, yeh' don't know mah' boss. And ah'm tryin' tah' protect yeh' here." Because he cared immensely about his friends, and protecting them, and putting their safety before his own. Before he could even explain just how cruel Valentino could be, Blitz was putting his hand out to him, Angel blinking at it in a bit of shock.

He stared at the extended hand, fighting off the urge to cry at it, taking Blitzo's hand in two of his own and gently squeezing the offer. "Ah' can't." He whispered, hating how broken his voice sounded, hating how much leverage the Overlord had over him. "Ah' can't run away, Blitz. Mah' soul is fuckin' under contract. Ah' literally can't escape because ah'm not...." Free. He couldn't say it. But he wasn't allowed to make his own choices, and he knew it.

"Ah' want this tah' work. This...whatever we have. Ah' like it. Ah' like you." He stressed, punctuating enough that his accent didn't even catch on the word. "But ah'm always gonna have tah' go tah' him first, Blitz. He pulls the strings. And ah' don't...ah' don't want that hurtin' yeh."

"Uh, no, I don't think so," Blitz assured her. He hesitated, because while the woman was hot she was also pretty fucking intimidating, then stepped forward and offered the wine. "Here. Um. Thank you. For having me." Even if your staff are a bunch of bitches, he thought, but had enough sense to say. Stolas's staff didn't like him either, and Blitz really couldn't fault them for it--or Stella's. He was the homewrecker. There were probably a lot of ways he and Stolas could have gone about things that wouldn't have fucked Stella's life up so hard...

Thinking about all of that was going to give him a headache, though, and he figured he better save his headache-points for whatever their actual conversation would be. Which was, in and of itself, a good damn question. Because now that he was here, looking up at this glorious demon, Blitz didn't know what to say.

What was that shit the Morningstar girl sang? That was always on the radio these days?

It starts with sorry That's your foot in the door One simple Sorry Spoken straight from the core... Something like that? It wasn't really his musical style, but it was catchy and he had to fight the urge to hum it now.

Stepping away, he looked for something to sit on and climbed up onto a couch. Freakin' Goetia and all their furniture, designed for tall motherfuckers.

"So, uh... I guess... there's no way this won't be awkward. But I feel like you... you haven't... really... I mean..." Looking down, Blitz rubbed at the back of his head. "I get the impression you and Stolas have been fighting too much for him to really hear you? So I--I want to. If there's stuff you want to say. I want to hear you." His golden eyes looked up, meeting hers, apologetic and nervous and unsure, but also sincere. Blitz didn't like hurting people, and even if part of him wanted to loathe this woman for how she treated Stolas... he also knew he maybe didn't get the whole picture. And maybe, you know, just fucking maybe, Stella deserved to be seen. To be more than just the unwanted wife at yet one more point of her story.

Blitz tried to keep his breathing even and his body language relaxed and still. Stella could tear him apart in a heartbeat if she wanted to. He just had to pray she wouldn't decide to use those pretty talons of hers.

And I gotta quit being afraid of her, he realized, cause that's just... judging her, right? Which isn't fair.

A servant would answer the door, looking a bit surprised to see Blitz there. "Ah, you must be Blitz." A look up and down Blitz's form. "The homewrecker." The servant added as an afterthought. A shrug, and a gesture for Blitz to follow them.

The servant led Blitz to the drawing room and informed that Stella would see him shortly and scampered off. A few minutes would pass before Stella would announce her presence.

"So you actually showed up." Stella raised a brow, sniffing haughtily. She stared down at the imp, noting the bottle of wine tucked under arm. Probably that cheap swill but she suppose she would accept. It was her duty as a gracious host after all. "Were you seen?"

What does Blitzo wear to the beach? Is he taking Moxxie and Millie and Stolas?

I stared at this for like a solid minute before remembering there's a beach day event. Bro, Blitz would drag everyone to the beach. Loona, Millie, Moxxie, Fizz, Stolas, Via, Asmodeus... anyone he even remotely likes, if there's going to be a beach day? They're coming.

And he will be awful.

Just like, the most ridiculously enthusiastic about EVERYTHING.

Volleyball? Digging holes? Swimming? Biting sharks back? Sun-bathing? Chasing seagulls? Awesome picnic? Blitz will be all over that shit and just like, unflappably cheerful for as long as remotely possible--and always reminding people to put sunscreen on and hydrate, and that jellyfish are for throwing at friends, not for putting in bread.

EDIT: I forgot to answer what he would wear. Big tropical-pattern swim-trunks and an open shirt that he loses around noon because he took it off for five minutes and forgot about it, but this means he toooootally neeeeds someone (Stolas) to help him out with sunscreen. And that is the point when he realizes he really should've worn budgie-smugglers and has Regrets.

"Shit!" Blitz swore and clutched his hand to his chest. Mammon might look soft, but that son of a bitch was strong, a lot stronger than Blitz had been counting on--not that that was going to stop him. With a growl, he pulled a knife, its angelic edge glittering even in the darkness of the room, and held it ready to fight as he moved towards his gun.

"I'm plenty fuckin' durable," he said, his eyes always on Mammon's eyes, a deep sense of calm awareness settling in. This was a foe he shouldn't be taking on, but it was way too damn late for takebacks now. "And don't think that just because you look like the best snuggler in the entire fucking world, I'm going to be fooled or drawn in by your charm. Asshole." His tail was starting to thrash, and something glittered on the end--it looked like a knife of some sort, some kind of gleaming jewelry or weaponry, angelic steel with a bright edge and a filigreed center, delicate and strong, fixed over the spade.

"Tell me, swear to me, that you're never going to bring harm to Fizzarolli or Asmodeus. Promise me on something that means something to you," he was always moving as he spoke, keeping up a slow pace as he moved towards the side, always staying balanced, "and we won't have to find out tonight just how fragile Hell's magical infrastructure might be, when one of its main supports goes down."

Mammon froze as soon as that gun was raised to his throat. His own breathing stills as he stares at the imp holding the gun. It was a regular gun after all, wasn't it? Best not to think about it too much. He hasn't said a word, giving the other time to think what they were doing, or about to do. "Who even said I had anythin' planned fer Ozzie ? " He really didn't, nor did he know what this guy was even going on about. 

"You mean Fizzy ? Look, guy, I ain't fuckin' doin' anythin' but workin' on shit here. As much as I would love a visit from Fizzy & maybe definitely want him back, I ain't gonna force him."

No, no. Not force, but maybe trick him later down the line. Of course, this guy didn't need to know any of his plans. 

He didn't even know the other's name. 

"Listen, why don't ya calm down & ——— hah ! " Taking the opportunity as he sees that loosened grip, Mammon knocks the gun out of their hand & kicks it across the floor. "Fucking do that shit again to a sin & we'll see how durable you really are." 

Someone get him a can of Raid