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[nestingdevil]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, avaricious. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 012.07.333.07 *** avaricious has joined 018.07.154.55 <avaricious> ithsihoitiwrks ? <BANNED USER> SCREENED MESSAGE. UNSCREEN? Y/N -- <avaricious>thdvllsnst <avaricious> vdndrere

CONTACTS

0.0.0.0 ♦ "MASON" | Heather

TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.

0.0.0.0 ♦ STOCKE

TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.

0.0.0.0 ♦ AOBA

TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.

0.0.0.0 ♦ "JUSTINE"

TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.

0.0.0.0 ♦ KILLUA

TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.

0.0.0.0 ♦ ZOLF J. KIMBLEY

TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.

0.0.0.0 ♦ EDWARD ELRIC

TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.

0.0.0.0 ♦ "XANDER" | SANDRATH

TEXT ABOUT THEM GOES HERE.

Comments

[nestingdevil]

About anything, huh? [The former homunculus silently slips in as the other takes his seat; practically in time with Killua and his elbows meet the surface on his side of the bar, his arms folding loosely at the lip. Tracing up his arm is the same slick-black; like his hands have been permanently tarred with oil.] Ha - ! I like that attitude of yours, kid. And you're not the first - you've got my attention.

[But as his company goes on, Greed cocks one brow casually; his lips running a curved line against his jaw.] That's a pretty tall order. I already have a couple helping me in Bavan - [His voice rattles in his throat, simmering like a collection of R(s) rolled and held at the tip of his tongue. He flings one arm out, bringing up a set of talons in a swing of charring-scales. One claw taps into the surface of the bar lightly, giving punctuation to his point.] - I don't really know much about the fog god, just the rumors. Apparently the last time, a few struck a deal and got something out of it. What they got, I really couldn't say. Didn't really interest me at the time and I've never been one to take orders from someone else.

[Information of the fog god comes and goes; sometimes, there's more. Mostly, it's less. Just rumors that lead elsewhere, talk that goes nowhere. Not that it entirely matters to him; the information is just that: business. What the fog god wants, what the end goal is?]

[He's got a different agenda entirely.]

[A hiss of laughter creeps out of him when the conversation switches and Greed slowly goes on the rewind. His nails skip across the flat-top wood, scratching a few hot lines in the process.] Now that's an interesting question - [His voice trails off, holding on with baited breath. Then hook, line:] - word says a demon. [And so do the symptoms; horns, claws. A pair of wings neatly folded behind his back that rest in a dormant kind of ash. Greed clicks his heel behind him, slowly whirling his head up to give a slight scratch under his throat. The vein word is molten; fingering out in links of wicked red.]

The real question is - why do you want to know?

[nestingdevil]

[An odd kind of stillness takes hold of him as he watches her speak. Still tipping over his hips, Greed's mouth presses with hooked interest. The tail behind him churns slower, finally freezing in a point-posed position. The pierced string of coins hooked into the tip trill to a stop, the jewelry wafting with the last throes of momentum.] Justine, huh? It's a pleasure.

[A pleasure indeed and while most would be more apt to hide their intentions, Greed isn't. The want on his features sketches into every tick of his eyebrow, every pull of his lip. His shoulders sag and the white fur at his neck slides to caress the backside of skull. A midnight lover's touch; ginger, wafting. Ghostly.] I'm sure you aren't, but don't mistake me for something I'm just not lovely. I'm not about to force you to do anything, if that isn't what you want. Even I have some standards. [From behind his sunglasses, the faintest touch of red glimmers. The glow spirals behind thick panes of black, shining off to chase the metal keeping the pair together. There one moment, gone the next. Whether that's a trick of the light or something else - ]

[Her hand comes out and Greed's face falls for a split second at the comment: "But don't mistake loyalty for subservience - " Everything else falls on deaf ears and the Sin's head violently sways backward with a resounding snap. His jaws open wide and a bark of laughter thunders through the bar. The exposure of his throat shows off blistering fingers of warm heat that brighten gold with the onslaught. After a moment or two, Greed calms and his laughter cools. Until he's slick again, smooth. A right criminal and his head falls forward, his boot sways out with an anchored heel.]

You've got it all wrong, sweet-heart. The people here are mine, sure. But that doesn't mean I expect something like that - [A flash of movement behind his shades has him looking at the hand outstretched in front of him. Greed opens up his own in return, gesturing to the air between them.] - I do count myself as fair and if I wanted something like that, I wouldn't be much different from him. No - [His arm falls boneless to his side, his other palm fastened around the small of his torso.] - I'm not keen on that and I've always been a fan of choice. Even here - I've been doing this for a long time, but that hasn't changed.

[dialtones]

[Where the rest is fairly expected of someone presenting himself like this, the laughter is jarring. His eyes still haven't left Greed's from the brief glint of red he'd caught sight of. That was startling too, still. Such a common change in this place, but each sight set off waves of memories and pain. Slowly, his own hand drops from between them, and he tears his gaze away to look elsewhere, around the bar.]

Then we won't have a problem. [He hadn't been speaking that for his own protection, anyway, but as a warning. Of course, that probably wasn't understood. Kurapika always had an intensity about him in situations like this, but it was hard to pinpoint. It just showed in his eyes, and in his posture.

It's his turn to glance down at Greed's hand now, and then back to his face.]

Standards are key, but I wouldn't be here if I wasn't willing to work. So, is there something you could use me for? [Does he have a job or not, basically. To the chase-- but there is one thing that caught his ear. 'Him', he'd said, in reference to someone Kurapika hadn't been able to catch.]

"Him", though... Who is it that you mean by that?

[killectric]

[He's got his attention, that's good. Killua wasn't sure if he was just being humoured or not at first, even if he wasn't being brushed off.]

Too bad, that's kind of the main reason I came here. [Nothing on the fog god, it figured. Well that leaves only two possible uses left for this guy in Killua's mind. At least he was honest though, and driving one thing home--that nearly everything Killua's heard so far was still nothing but rumours until he'd seen it for himself.] If you know the names of any of the people who made a deal with the fog god, I'll take it.

[He'll contact them later, but right now he's back on whole monster thing, because "demon" is so fitting for his brother that it's almost laughable. Of course.

Killua's brows are knit, and he doesn't really want to explain his reasons for wanting to know. They would probably just make Greed less inclined to tell him, so he'll only tell him enough to think that it's just honest, well-intentioned curiosity.] I think my older brother might be a demon too, so I was hoping I could learn more.

[nestingdevil]

[Stocke isn’t the only one feeling the subconscious ping of hunger. The nature of it is buried and feral, bubbling to the surface when he’s either forgotten or merely ignored the feeling out of pure ignorance; the sensation isn't one he has had to worry about before. A matter of convenience, but now? It's different. His tongue feels rough to the touch, his throat choking out like someone who’s been wandering the desert for a bit too long. The only distraction comes from Stocke himself as he oozes from a solid to a mostly-airy state. The tendrils of inky, chilled smoke drift across his back and Greed listens as the sword trills softly behind him; a blade abandoned by circumstance.]

[The matter of the woman from Bavan is shelved for the time being. He can’t think straight, not with that constant drumming in the side of his skull. Greed’s teeth shine off as he rounds the corner towards the stairwell, his fangs illuminating in a soft glow. Below them, the entrance to the ‘Nest bangs unlocked and a soft gust howls through the empty bar. On nights like this, when the fog yanks the true monsters to the surface, the lack of patrons isn't surprising.]

[What is is the sound of whispers, the loud commotion of uneven feet blindly walking through the dark.] "This is the place boys - I know it." [A pause, a crash, then:] "Hey watch it - !" [The voice sounds older, gruff. Grinding through teeth soaked in spit. Footsteps knock off hollow on the bottom floor and whoever it is, they've brought company. Their boots are thick and heavy - their stance labored, yet tight. Greed's mouth pulls into a sneer, his upper lip peeling away to show off his new set.]

"Shit. You don't think anyone's still here, do ya?" [Another - this time a bit younger, with a farm-bred accent to tell of his upbringing. Two whistling plunks tremble with unsteady hands and it's hard not to know what's going on: the barrel of an opened shotgun, a reloading of slugs. A rather loud click breaks the silence and someone breathes heavily outward.] "Looks like the fuckers cut and run. Whatever. We'll show 'em I ain't no one to mess 'round with. Had a tail on that g'damn little bird thief. Ain't gunna be chased out this time."

[The Sin slowly takes one step and the conversation abruptly cuts off from below. The merry band of men alerted, they quiet down and hunker. It's a contrast of two forces and Greed casually takes the stairs, his hands slipping into his pockets. His smile is dangerous, deadly. And still oddly friendly; coaxing.] Oi, oi, oi - now what's all this, hmn? You'd have to be pretty stupid to try something here, friend.

[Despite their luck? Fate sometimes offered a better deal.]

[nestingdevil]

[Slam, bam, thank you ma'am; Greed straightens his back, standing a tad taller to loom over the other. The claws wrapped around his torso click against the brown fabric of his shirt, threatening it with a scratchy kind of sound.] Right to business then? I like your attitude.tgyythu

[The Sin throws his head over his shoulder, chasing a look through the bar. While the amounting possessions employee base has been slow and staggering, it isn't like he's entirely lacking either. He recoils around, swaying his hip out to quick-jerk on his heels.] Depends on what you can do. I already have plenty to bring shipments in from Bavan. And I could use a couple more here - serving drinks, taking care of the bar when I'm not around. Think you can do something like that?

[With his back exposed to her, Greed lulls his head over the back of his collar, turning a stray glance; the gesture gives a brief look at just what's hiding behind those impossibly-dark shades. A flicker and his eyes are a pale kind of purple, the white of them slowly being invaded by the same stretches of black that pepper-mark the rest of his body. The slits of his pupils shiver to sharp points - akin to a serpent and chilled despite his too-hot temperature.]

Hmn-? [He hums distractedly. For a second, a comical expression crosses him, making his features sag. Him - Greed hisses out a curbed-cut laugh, the tone of it more like a gasket that's been released. He tosses his head away and one foot kicks out, then the other. Sending him in a trawling kind of waltz as he heads for the bar.] It's a bit of a boring story, but if you really have to know - good ol'Daddy sir. I wasn't really human before I got here, lovely.

But that isn't really important now, is it?

[makehistoria]

[As soon as he hears voices - rough and unfamiliar, angry - Stocke closes his eyes and falls back, slipping into the Nest's shadows. They haven't brought light with them, and that's their mistake; not only does that leave him freer to move, it means they won't be able to see him. He doesn't even need to go invisible; good, since he can't afford that right now.]

[He listens as they hiss back and forth, claws tensing in the dark; finally, his eyes crack barely open, just another line of moonlight from a window or a gleam off an abandoned bottle. Greed's moving glow is sure to draw more attention - Stocke takes the opportunity to rise silently up to the ceiling, guide his sheathed sword away from him, above the intrudors. There's no reflection off the unpolished wood, but even so, Stocke waits a moment or two before following. As he passes Greed - just before the demon heads down the stairs - he lets one tendril droop, trail through Greed's shoulder. It's just another flicker of darkness in the gloom, a whisper of cold, but what it means is 'I'll be waiting up above for a signal.']

[The intruders wouldn't be expecting anything from above; people rarely did. Flight-capable monsters might've changed that, some, but within the enclosed confines of the bar, without the sound of flapping wings, there'd be no forewarning.]

['Little bird thief'... do they mean Mason? Or some other harpy that hangs around here? It'd be a lot easier to pull up possibilities if he hadn't started pulling at the seams hungrily as soon as static whispered (prey), so he shelves the thought and focuses on the present. His eyes, still thin slits, fix on the shotgun.]

[It's not a magical firearm like back home, he knows that after the months he's spent here. Ammunition, not spells. Stocke's not too worried about being shot, but if they aim at Greed - can he stop a slug? It'd be moving too fast for his telekinesis, he thinks; not safe to test now if he's right. Instead he reaches out a mental thread to hook the firearm itself. He doesn't twitch it, not yet, but if there's a move to shoot - he'll try to yank the barrel upwards.]

[nestingdevil]

[Greed's lips purse in a strange fascination; one that mixes with a kind of put-upon stare. A shy breath of a whistle slides through his teeth, shrilling when it meets the jagged, uneven edges.] Oh-? Kind of a demanding little pissant, aren't ya? [His expression simmers behind his sunglasses; as he recoils his forked tongue inward, dragging the smoldering tip back inside his jaws. A low grumble holds in his throat, the tone lightly pleased despite the circumstance.] Even if I did - that's asking a lot, don't you think? Nothing in this world comes free, friend.

[The heavy barb of his tail wanders idly behind him - an appendage without direction. It tells of his mannerisms; of a constant nonchalance and a perked curiosity. The metal adornments trill and tremble as it moves. Chiming ever-so-softly under the less-chaotic bar noise.]

Your brother, huh? So it's a little more personal. [The former homunculus spins the cap to another bottle with a flick. It takes the grooves on its own after that. Riding them out until it finds the last rung, sealing the contents for the time being. Greed's shoulders slump upwards, his movement molasses-slow and thick. One claws hooks into an abandoned ashtray and the tip of it clacks dully against porcelain inside.]

Depends on what you really want to know and what you've got in return. [He plucks a half-smoked butt from the pile, gently cleaning away ash and soot with the backside of his talon.]

Though, I'm sure we could work something out.

[dialtones]

[When given the chance, he takes in as much as he can of this man's appearance. It seems the longer he stares, the more monstrous he appears. New details get picked up and filed away, like those eyes that have Kurapika narrowing his own ever so slightly in thought.

It doesn't last long, seeing as Greed starts heading to the bar. He listens intently, following along without a second thought. Daddy sir? The way he was speaking on this was pretty cryptic, all things considered... But it was likely involving too much detail to offer for a complete stranger.

Even when they reach the bar, he's stiff and official, not bothering to sit or even lean or relax his posture. He stands straight, looking to Greed as he finishes.]

I suppose not. [Not now, at least, and so he'll let that slide. Questions about pasts and humanities were a sore subject here, weren't they? And as much as he wanted to know what Greed was, in that case, he would find out later. Perhaps there was trust to be earned. Slowly, with hard work.]

You're not the first I've heard to say they weren't originally human. [He leaves that in the air for a brief moment before looking to the side, at the area behind the bar.]

And I do like to stick to business. [For the record.] So as far as that goes, I could do serving and taking care of things easily. [More convenient than traveling back and forth to Bavan, he thinks.]

[killectric]

[His eyes narrow into an indignant glare, because he actually has no idea what the word "pissant" means, but it doesn't sound like a compliment. If it weren't for the fact he was trying to negotiate here, he'd probably call Greed out on it--maybe. The guy's still intimidating, but as the older man goes on Killua's beginning to feel impatient.]

I already told you I'm willing to work for it. [Greed may not be brushing him off, but he's still talking to him like he's some naive child who's expecting the answers to just be handed to him. Killua's not here to play around, despite the casual entrance, and he makes that known through the tone of his voice and the iciness of his leer; no longer indignant or childish. It's truly a look that could kill a lesser man, and a look that far too many people saw before Killua did just that.]

So just name your price. I want to know everything you're willing to tell me about Demons, and I want to know the names of the people who made a deal with the fog god. Got it?

holy shit i just noticed that vomiting of letters in the text above

[nestingdevil]

[The mirrored wall of bottles and booze melds with his movement; reflecting him back in amorphous shapes that flow into one another as he walks. Faintest hints of terrible red and charcoal catch in mismatched forms of glass. Bulging out and thinning again in the wide collection of liquor.]

[He runs an index and a middle across the bar when he rounds to the side-entrance, the tips of his nails creating a pitch. Meeting the battered top, they jump and glide; tuning the surface with a deep hum.] No, can't imagine I'd be the only one. That's a little naive to think. But most here tend to have the same story - being human once. I'd imagine this would be pretty difficult to get used to. Not that I can blame them, but it seems to me it's better this way, right? [Maybe, maybe not. The Sin's muscle oozes when he walks; as he sways and runs the curve of the bar with a practiced knowledge.] Gunna guess you were human before all this? Or did I get that wrong, lovely?

[The small door to the side swings open and bangs deaf against the back of the bar. For a second, it stays pinned to the surface. Until the shadowy form of his tail jerks away, unplugging itself similar to a lodged-in spear.] Fair enough, though you can drop that. This isn't military position, sweetheart. Don't get the wrong idea.

[With the door free, it sways and wafts behind him for a few seconds. Slowing down as it finds itself again and the latch snaps closed with a soft click. Greed reaches across the bar, shelling out a barely-smoked butt from one of the ashtrays. The tip of his thumb cleans it off, plucking away ash with a pleasant kind of grin that's more like a shark on its best behavior.]

[Still just as deadly and just as predatory as the next.] That's fine, but in case you change your mind - [His hand reaches underneath the bar-face, disappearing into one of many compartments to find just what he's looking for. A ring of keys rattles and he pries it open, flipping through the collection until he finds the right one. Silver, old; flecked with rust and a number reading in a crooked "4". Greed tears it out from the set, sending the piece of metal tumbling over his knuckles and onto the bar.]

[A pinch and a slide sends it her way.] - that one's yours. [Lips pull aside and his grin is nakedly wanton; all that need, all that desire - it coils in the fire in his throat, hisses with the words on his tongue:]

Welcome to The Devil's Nest.

[nestingdevil]

[It's a familiar tune that he's had to dance to on more than one occasion. Greed's smile quips up with Killua's tenacity, his mouth pursing slightly. It isn't in surprise as much as it's intrigue. While manners are a bit lacking, there's no denying that the kid did have a spine on him.]

[An admirable trait.] Yeah, you did. But you already told me you're not interested in working for me. [Greed's voice muffles as he shoves the end of the cigarette into his mouth, letting his horrible daggers fan out across the end. The butt threatens to thread under the pressure, but when he leans into a burning candle nearby, the integrity doesn't matter. A cherry births from the tip and paper coils backwards; eaten alive in silvery wafts of smoke. Greed's smile eases, then he stills.]

[And finally, the can of worms pops open with three, simple words: "...name your price."]

[His lips pull tight, his shoulders stiffen. Oh, if that's not just the worst thing. Tempting to the tempter and the former homunculus' laugh leaks out on the thread-work of an exhale.] Ha - ! You really think you can deliver something like that? Fine then, but remember - a deal's a deal. [Greed's knuckles wrap around the cigarette, prying it wildly from his jaws in a string of blue-ing orange. He taps the side of it, sending a bit of white ash to the floor.] If you can gather information, bring it back here first. Anything of interest - fog god, whatever's going on in town. I want to know about it. I imagine that'll be pretty easy for you.

[While his gaze is still hidden behind his sunglasses, the smoldering red doubles. Showing the ever-expanding slits of his eyes that glow like brimstone to match. They tremble with want as they try to decide whether to expand or retract.] And I'll tell you everything you want to know about demons. The people who made the deal, though - [That's not so common knowledge. Nor does has he confirmed anything.] - I don't know if it's all true, so it's not really worth the time tracking down a dead lead.

[Greed tosses his head to the side, calling someone over. From the back of the bar, nestled deep in one of the couches, another woman slides to attention. Her long dress whispers at her ankles, the silk of it moving in time with her equally-slippery stride. The demon leaves the head of the bar, switching hands with her silently.] Figured we could do this elsewhere. C'mon.

[And with that, Greed heads down one of the hallways. Whatever the bar used to be, it goes off in all sorts of directions. There's a floor above, doors on the right. Other hallways that lead into deep pitches of dark.]

[And everywhere, it seems there's someone or something lingering nearby.]

HAHAHA well I mean, they're accidentally demonic, maybe

[dialtones]

[He's tempted to correct him with a pointed "Justine" but he holds back for now out of curiosity in his actions. His actions and his words, rather. Kurapika couldn't blame him for questioning his humanity-- people could appear completely human and be complete monsters in various ways. He'd learned that.]

Better? That's not a thought I hear from most. [An eyebrow raises, and finally, he breaks down enough to fold his arms over the counter top.] You're right. I am human. No part of these transformations or trials are going to change that.

[One of those types, he is. Watching as Greed reaches below the bar for something, his lips press into more of a flat line. Not a military position... He's well aware.]

It's just my personality. [His hands open to catch the key suddenly slid his way, and when he catches it, he blinks down at first. He's still getting a room? ...Well, if he's not expected to stay here every night, it could come in useful. He may end up using it at certain points.

Brown eyes slide back up to Greed only to meet with that expression of his. Kurapika can only describe it as distasteful, but he keeps that to himself, pocketing the key in one simple motion.]

Thank you for having me. Now, [He straightens the nice bow on his blouse and then smooths his hand down the rest of his shirt. His head looks elsewhere, but it's only a few seconds before his eyes are flicking back to Greed.] Is it "Boss?" Or just "Greed?"

[That's telling in a way, too, he thinks.]

[killectric]

I said I wasn't interested in working here, but that's not this. [This is an informal exchange of services, and a way to keep Greed from thinking he owns him. Killua didn't want to commit to one job anyway, but more than that he hated feeling controlled, like someone else was making his choices for him. It reminded him far too much of his family, his brother and mother especially.

At any rate, he's prepared himself for whatever Greed may ask of him. A simple exchange of information seems basic enough.] I'll tell you everything I already know.

[It's of no consequence to him if Greed knows what information he's found out through the network and through his own experiences. Even less so if it gives him a chance to learn his brother's weaknesses and what he'll be capable of in the future. He still plans on squeezing out what he can on the deal regarding the fog god too, but for now he lets it drop.] And anything I find out, as long as you do the same.

[Killua follows Greed through the back of the bar, eyes surveying his surroundings and nearby monsters. It's like climbing into a nest of ants. They seem endless, and Killua folds his wings in close to his body on the off chance anyone decides to try and grab them.

It doesn't bode well for him to be this outnumbered, so he'll be cautious about entering any closed rooms.]

PFFT ..

[nestingdevil]

[Human. Definition: former. It isn't the first time he's dealt with a similar kind of story and while it had been a mix of both chance and circumstance before, Ryslig's in no short supply. People who once were, trying desperately to hold onto a glimmer of a chance: to be normal, to be what they used to be. Greed's look turns oddly pleasant, his razors shielded away as his mouth closes up.] Maybe not for you. I've never been human, least not until the first couple of months here. Wasn't really something I could get used to.

[Abandoned smoke creeps in above him, lingering at the ceiling in a mounting cloud. It moves with an airy disposition, as if suspended one moment and animated the next. He turns a look back to her, the lids of eyes falling softly behind his shades.] I am sorry, you know. But that new body of yours will come in handy. Might just take a while for you to get used to it. Either way, I'm not about to judge. I really don't care what you are.

[His claw hitches away from the key, leaving a slight smear of ash across the surface. Faint, hardly noticeable. A look twitches behind his shades, the only tell-tale sign the slight dip of his brow. The key disappears from sight and whether that's a silent confirmation or a pick up for a future conversation, he's satisfied with the transaction nonetheless.] You wouldn't be the first - [Greed's voice practically pops in his throat. Burning, burning, burning - straight down his gullet with a holding-purr.] - and there's no need to thank. You're one of mine now. I might not be so good, but I'm not so bad either.

[The Sin's face falls slightly at the next question, his head rising up like perked-sprung gopher.] Ah-? [He starts in. Before a sly laugh slithers through his teeth, making the split tip of his tongue ricochet off the roof of his mouth.] Ha - ! No. It's just Greed. Though if that's what you want to call it, I'm not about to stop you. [A loose ember dances across his tongue, jumping from one side to the next until it sizzles when it meets the inside of his cheek. A strand of steam curls in the aftermath and Greed swallows, his hand grazing the side of his hip.]

Feel free to start whenever you've got the time. We're busier at night, but I'm sure you already figured that out.

[dialtones]

"Handy," perhaps, but only in the context of this place. Everyone is forced to be human upon arrival, then?

[That's some information he didn't have before already. Greed's struggling with his first few months of being more 'human' than not is the same sort of feeling he's experiencing now, he knows. The lack of his nen, no chains on his right hand... It's empty.

Anything he gains from becoming a vampire will not be enough. He needs to work at getting back his normal abilities, and he intends to find out how.

For now, he closes his eyes in understanding at the name. Greed, then. Maybe he'll use Boss if it ends up being particularly flattering later on down the line, but for now, he'd rather not if he doesn't have to.]

I see. In that case, Greed, how about tomorrow night? [Blinking his eyes open again, he fixes them on Greed. There's something more in them now, the only hint as to what being his next few words.]

I have business I need to take care of tonight, but after that, I'll be available.

1/2

[nestingdevil]

[Stocke takes the cue without order; Greed can feel the slight chill leave his back, the retracting tendrils like a phantom in passing. Despite what could amount to some serious trouble, a proud flash passes over his expression. Luck or otherwise, he's glad to have Stocke. He hasn't proved a bad investment in the slightest.]

[The quiet touch on his shoulder is acknowledged in a span of exposed teeth. Reading it for what is is: a gesture that if things turn sour, all he needs to do is ask.]

[Iron trembles underneath his stride, the stairs rocking in groans of exhausted metal. Stocke's right in his personal assumption - the spill of liquidity gold and brimstone alerts the gang of three even more-so than the thunderous baritone of the Sin's voice. The shotgun gets cocked and poised. Thrown into place to rest against a shoulder. Unfortunately for them, the one sporting said-firearm just happens to be the youngest of the group. A blind sheep follower that, sadly, ran into a wolf den on the worst of nights.]

[Bad luck, bad decisions.]

Now, that really isn't very nice - not really smart, are ya? [Greed's pitch is tainted in the same half-drowned tin, scratching at his throat. The inside of his mouth glows, causing the bones of his jaw to illuminate in a terrible black. Not unlike a photo in a negative. But then the fire's swallowed again and he turns the last corner with a pleasant smile. Meeting the double-barreled gaze of the shotgun.]

"Call it sumthin' personal - ain't nobody gunna say shit once we get this taken care of. Should'a jus' stayed out m'business, devil - " [The older gentleman replies. He hasn't brought his farming equipment as a makeshift weapon this time: lesson learned. Instead, he's got a rifle lazily dangling in his fingers. A soft touch of moonlight glazes across a metal chain around his neck, illuminating a gold cross in a milky white.]

[Greed ticks his eyebrow up in mild humor.] That's not how it works, friend. Besides, I really couldn't have you messing with one of mine. [The Sin answers, not without a sneer. In the pitch-black of the bar, his outstretching wings loom behind him. Similar to shadows widening, they're marred in a fresh frame of ash. The youngest member of the band starts to tremble and the shotgun in his grip rattles.]

[Then his hand slips, his palm too sweaty to hold his bravado together. The twin barrels of the shotgun flare with a deafening bang.]

"F-Fuck!"

[The slugs meet their target in a spewing of ash. Greed's back hits the wall with a violent thud, causing one or two bottles and a mirror to crash onto the floor. The kid panics, his fingers missing the release on gun more than once. When he finally gets it, the smoking shells eject and roll onto the floor. The older man curses, his words unintelligible as he waves his rifle in the air.] "You dumb little shit!"

[The boy's lip quivers as he fumbles around for two more shots. Unfortunately, they forgot one thing.]

2/2

[nestingdevil]

[Silence passes and for a second, the three stare at Greed's still form.] "Shit - if I'd known it'd be that fuckin' easy - " [The older man calms, his bloated cheek deflating as a splatter of tobacco shoots out onto the floor.] "Not f'er nothin', but the next one we find, try not to piss in y'er pants."

[But as they talk, a wicked red flickers. A twitching skitter sounds off. Greed's claws move in a quick-jerk motion, like someone who's just had an electrical shock to the system. His body slowly raises from the wall, a faint trail of smoke wafting from his bowed-down head. His left hand opens up, cradling his neck. Then he twists, it snaps, and he groans out a sigh:] Ah- that hurt.

[Salt. They had forgot the salt. And now it's game, set: match.]

[nestingdevil]

Equivalent exchange then. Sounds fair. [His hand waves at his side and the leather bands on his wrist jump and jangle. Constantly in motion, yet casual. Greed passes by one of the doors, one latched shut with a complex line of locks and bolts that run straight up across the side. For a moment he pauses there, the tips of his claws hovering over the set. He shrugs not too soon afterward, silently deciding it against it.] And simple enough. As long as you live up to your end of the bargain.

[Instead of the usual, Greed leads Killua into one of the vacant booths out back. It's sealed with a simple curtain and draw, the fabric moving aside with a push of his wrist. Center is a table, its candle left unlit with a mounting ashtray nearby. He takes a seat opposite the other, one arm throwing itself against the back-frame of the booth.] So what is it you want to know, exactly? [Greed chimes in, his head tilting back to expose his throat. One heel slides over the other knee, causing the swing of his pointed-tip boot to cant in vertical slant. He's at ease, almost too much so.]

[A king and his proverbial castle.]

[The barb of his tail swings out to the side, slicing the cord to the curtain once Killua slips in. The fabric falls with a heavy whoosh, effectively sealing them off from prying eyes. It's a transaction; a business deal that's entirely his. The Sin's claws dribble off the side of their perch, the tips grazing against well-worn red leather.] I can show you what I know, but remember: information for information. [The color in his throat changes. From a terrible red, to a more soothing gold. Temptation in its finest form.]

[He produces a familiar pack of matches, the grinning devil smeared on the top a mark for the making. One claw pushes against the butt-end, sending the slip open and he gingerly clips a single match with the curved-dip of a talon. One strike against the side of his thigh brings it to life, igniting both the candle front and center and a cigarette from the ashtray.] There's a little more to being a demon than being a homunculus - [Smoke accents his every word, pluming in a noxious cloud that hangs near his teeth. Whether that first admission is a free-be or not, it's hard to tell.]

[That is, until:] - first thing's first though. What are you, hmn? [Despite the hollowed look coming from his sunglasses, the faint light pulls at the lenses. Revealing hooded eyes that thin out with a sinister touch.]

[makehistoria]

[Stocke jerks at the retort of the gun, already knowing he's too late to interfere - his reaction time isn't superhuman, and those slugs can fly across the room in less time than it takes him to blink. Less time than it takes him to curl the claws on one hand together, as if grasping at something that's no longer there. An angry static surges up his spine, through his throat, mouth or not - he slams it to a halt before it spills out, whether as a quiet curse or an inhuman hiss. It struggles there as the three stand around, staring, the oldest man almost mocking; if there's anything Stocke's learned over the past week, it's that even if something like that's enough to kill Greed, he'll probably be back. This peninsula's strange like that. And yet -]

[He's almost surprised at the amount of relief he feels when the demon's red flares back up, but he sets that aside; more importantly, that shouldn't happen again. The kid's grip is still slippery; it's hardly any work at all to yank the shotgun out of his fingers telekinetically, send it flying off towards the far wall. It doesn't quite reach, hitting the floor and spinning past glittering shards of glass before it slides to a halt. Meanwhile, Stocke hasn't been paying it any mind since the first tug and fling; before the kid's even had any chance to yelp, the shade's snapping that same mental thread towards the leader's rifle.]

[This he doesn't try to pull away - no guarantees on how tightly the man's holding, he might have a chance to shoot. If Stocke knew anything about the innards of firearms, he'd have messed with them; as it is, at least he knows what the trigger's for. He jams it, holding it tightly in place; if the third man's got something to shoot, Stocke gives it the same treatment, spooling out another metaphorical line.]

[Telekinesis isn't foolproof - there's a limit to how much Stocke can carry with it. But counteracting the efforts of a finger, two? That's nothing. If the rifle-holder tries to shoot, the trigger shouldn't budge. To make it even better - unless these natives are experts on the types of monsters Ryslig holds, there's nothing to say that Greed didn't do all that. No evidence of a second monster pulling any strings.]

[Stocke's tendrils quiver tensely, invisible in the ceiling's darkness. He wants to do more, but Greed still hasn't motioned him forward. There's a difference between taking initiative and suddenly acting like he can't trust the demon to handle this, and he's not crossing it.]

[Your move, boss.]

[killectric]

Yeah, yeah. I get it. [Keep his end of the bargain or else, typical shady business. Killua used to kill people for a living, he knows how this goes and he's always been good for his word.

When they come to the complexly locked door he was prepared to protest, but luckily Greed kept going and took them somewhere else, where he felt relatively safe entering. Worst comes to worst, he can easily just get up and leave; a curtain wasn't going to stop him.

So stepping inside, he takes a casual seat across from Greed, his wings spread to accommodate the back of the chair without sacrificing too much seat space. Greed's cigarette earns a wrinkled nose, because in close quarters the smell's intrusive, but Killua doesn't make mention of it. Likewise, he wants to ask just what a homunculus is, but that would mean having to offer up information for it. He'll just ask Kurapika later.] I want to know about the kind of powers Demons get and if there's anything they're weak or resistant to.

[He'll just come out with it now; there should be no reason for Greed to hesitate if this was an "even exchange", right? Besides, it was for his brother. He just never said how.] And I'm a Gargoyle, but I'm not fully transformed yet so I probably don't know everything.

[nestingdevil]

That's what they say. Not exactly something I was interested in anyway. [The cigarette gets tapped again, his index extending to rap-rap-rap against the side. Fresh fire crackles with the exit of ash, digging itself further into what remains of the cigarette.] It's pretty inconvenient, but I guess that's not the case for most.

[His shoulder and back sag, allowing him to retreat from the face of the bar again. His tailbone anchors to the prep-station behind him and Greed stretches out his legs, letting them hang loosely together by the ankles. The cigarette gets one last drag in the aftermath, the smoke charring down his throat as he idly pinches the hot tip. The scales on his finger pads spit, smoke plumes. Then it's dead again, the useless butt snapped away with a flick of his pointer. It sails into some dark corner of the bar, out of sight and mind entirely.]

Tomorrow night? Sounds fine. Just make sure you're here before it gets too busy - [The Sin latches both thumbs through the loops of his leather slacks, his head tilting back in "Justine's" direction. The look on his face is coy and sly - the devil ready to present his best fiddle. At his side, his tail lulls curiously at the floor. Swishing across the thick boards of wood.] Take care of what you need to. Like I said before, I don't really care what you do otherwise. We tend to have more later in the evening. Midnight's usually pretty busy.

[Greed slowly lifts his bones from the shelf behind him, twisting his head over his shoulder at movement deeper inside. He caresses the roof of his mouth with a jarring sneer, a Cheshire's look in an onslaught of teeth.] Don't think I have to show you out, hmn? [A blare of red slides behind his sunglasses, crawling drearily through the lenses.]

[nestingdevil]

[When the shotgun goes airborne, the kid all but yelps in surprise. His eyes are like saucers, his mouth hanging open as mental collection moves to disarray. His hardly-visible trembles are now in full view and his feet slide together. His empty hands twitch, looking for something to hold onto to. Unfortunately, he takes a few uneven steps back and goes crashing to the floor; breathing heavily as he tries to crab-walk for escape.]

[Greed's already up, his head bowed. A grip of claws holds his neck and he groans slightly, twisting at the muscle and bone locked underneath his palm. The leader of the group takes no pause, his rifle rearing up in a shining sheen: no unlike a tank posed to fire. He goes to pull the trigger. Goes again - ] "Piece of god'mn shit!" [He furiously pulls back the cock-pull hammer, releasing an unspent shell onto the floor. It rolls away, the pointed tip catching moonlight before it disappears into a corner.]

[It's enough of a pause.]

[While he doesn't have the usual tricks, Greed's talons grab the wooden length of the rifle. He can't slice it apart like he'd normally would, but one good twist snaps the man's wrist clean. The weapon drops and the Sin's look is put-upon. As if this is all merely a bother.] Oh-? Probably hurt yourself that way, Chief. [The tone of his voice is sharp, sing-song. Even as the elder of the bunch wails, his sodden lip smeared in a wet sheen of aged, tarry tobacco. Greed holds him firm, parting only a brief glance upward to signal his would-be second.] I told you, I wasn't interested in hurting anyone. But you're not really giving me much choice.

[Greed's other hand shoots off like a gunshot, his claws snaring the older man's collar. Behind him, his wings are a terrible looming of brimstone - their shape fading by the outline. One beat has the two of them against the opposing wall and the former homunculus uses the side of it to lift the older man up and off the floor. His aged old boots hang and the laces dangle as his last lifeline. This close, he can practically smell it on him; a soul quivering deep down with a boy's kind of fear. Something that old men try to bury over time.]

[It's sickeningly sweet.] That's twice now - why don't we try not to make it messier than it has to be this time, hmn? [His free hand is out, his arm gesturing slowly to his side. The two others stare on, the youngest one frozen in the corner. Greed cricks his head to the side as he draws eerily close to the leader's face. His eyes are wide behind his sunglasses, the pricks of his pupils thickening out with the idea. It's been a while since he last consumed and the ping of hunger brought on by the recent fog isn't doing him any favors.]

[Thankfully, chance luck seems to be on his side.] "I'll fuckin' see you n'Hell f'er I make no deal." [The man finally speaks up, his voice choking on his own spittle. Greed's eyes settle, his lids hooding with a small sneer.] Eh - that's a shame. [Under the demon's grip, the appointed leader tries to furiously snatch at his cross. It causes the Sin to reel back slightly, his frown more pronounced. His grip loosens just a tad, fabric sliding between his claws in a silent whispers of linen.]

[The Sin sighs - dramatic, overly so. As his hand snakes around back, effectively plucking the clasp of the necklace to make it fall to the floor. It drops once; like a heavy piece of lead, or a bad omen in the making.]

[Then he has his head against the other's, foreheads touching. The older man finally goes still, a dreamy look washing over his face. At peace, for a moment. His arms hang at his sides, his eyes turn milky in their stare. Had it been anything else, the act might look intimate.] I really am sorry, you know. [The Sin hums rather pleasantly. But then his jaws are opening, his teeth glint. What happens is a reaction and something slips out of the opening in the man's lip. A vacuum to dust, wrenching a whispering form out from his teeth. In comes in slowly, time ticking almost to a halt.]

[Then it's gone. Down Greed's throat with a simple rattling of his tongue. The older man's eyes roll back into his skull and Sin lets loose his grip. He stares down at the unconscious form, his expression mixed with distaste.]

[nestingdevil]

[The cigarette's pulled away, comfortably nesting in the middle of his thick knuckles. It slow burns after that, clumps of ash forming and falling where the edge of the couch ends. Greed raises his eyebrow a bit at Killua's question, his mouth opening with a simple, "Ah-?" before he flutters his fingers, sending threads of smoke retreating.] You really think I'd tell you all that? You're sure asking a lot, friend.

[A snap sends his jaws shut and Greed leans over, forcing the cigarette into the half-full tray. It seers the bottom, drawing a line of blackening soot to replace a days worth of dust. His smile is chaste, his chin canted downwards with amusement.] Though that avarice of yours - pretty impressive. Fine then. I won't tell you everything, but the first thing I noticed was salt. Can be a pain sometimes and the people in Vandare use it from time to time. [Greed pulls his fingers away, leaving the crushed form of the smoke to lean crookedly vertical in the pile. Standing on its own, it looms over long-dead comrades.] It hurts and it doesn't heal. It also seems to stop me from getting into certain places. I don't know how that works, but I'm sure someone like you could figure it out.

[His head tilts to the left, yearning towards the curtain. A few footsteps sound outside the barrier and at the bottom edge of the fabric, a pair of clipped-heels trudge by.] In terms of abilities, there's at least one I can tell you about. [With one hand free, Greed pries open his claws. The center of his palm is black to the pitch, marked with thin-set scales that look like they've been put under heat for some time. His knuckles tighten and his fingers caress the air, starting from the pinkie and back again. The movement coaxing a small flame that grows and rises from the center of his hand. Stark, jagged arches of red gleam in his sunglasses as he does so, his expression that of lazy fascination.]

[Though, it couldn't be further from the truth.] I didn't have it before here - tends to comes in handy. [The fire flickers and his claws retract inwards. A snuff sends silvery wisps of blue smoke through the cracks of his fingers, the flame extinguished.]

[However, he does perk up with the other finally gives; his cheek rising from the resting point of his other hand and Greed whistles.] A gargoyle, huh? That's interesting - I haven't met one of those yet. [And truth be told, the curious tone in his voice is genuine. Despite meeting some, he hasn't seen every monster Ryslig had to offer.] Guess it comes with some sort of perk, right?

[Finally, he turns back to Killua - that same poisonous desire lingers on his expression, his upper lip dragging back with a toothy smile. There's a low noise somewhere close by and it seems to be coming from him. Not in his vocal chords, but deep, deep down. Grumbling like a bonfire in short range. Greed taps the table between them, scratching a soft line.]

Why don't you show me exactly what you can do. [It isn't a question.]

[dialtones]

[He stays silent at the mention of inconvenience. Yes, it is, in a way. He was stripped down not just to humanity, but to humanity before he was able to control his nen. That's something he needs to gain back more than just his humanity.

Following the smoke of that cigarette, he nods, taking a step back from the bar and straightening out his blouse with both hands. His eyes flick back to Greed.]

I'll be sure to get here earlier. In any case, I appreciate the smoothness of this. [It was fast and easy, just how he likes it.] I'll find you then. Until next time.

[His ponytail waves a little as he turns, confident steps taking him all the way out of the bar. One step done, and just a little business to take care of before he starts working. Hopefully there will be plenty to learn here.]