The familiar voice came from above, emotionless as ever. Little more than a dark silhouette punctuated with two copper-sulfate fire eyes perched on a beam as comfortable as though he'd been there the whole time. Perhaps he had been, Murmur did have a terrible habit of being where he wasn't wanted for far longer than anyone might desire. Even Greed.
He didn't budge from that perch, merely watched Greed with that peculiar intensity of his. Just what, exactly, was he offering here?
Halfway deep into the man's forehead, the Sin calmly pauses. His eyebrows stretch sleepily up his forehead; his look, a comical combination of slight annoyance and dramatic exasperation. Because, of course, the Angel would speak in riddles even now, wouldn't he?
Greed pulls his hand away, shaking the cigarette out before tossing it to the concrete. "Y'know, it would be a lot easier if you just cut to the chase, Feathers," he starts in through a cracking smile. Because he couldn't stay mad at Murmur, no. Not after all he's done, not after everything they've been through. Truly, he should be used to it by now. Where devils are clear cut with their intentions, angels? They're vague, abstract creatures with tongues laced in enough convoluted and ambiguous directions that'd it be easy, all too easy, to get lost in a simple conversation.
So instead of guessing, the devil merely throws his hands over his head in slack surrender. "If you've got a better way, I'm all ears," he hums and turns his wrists, exposing his palms to the ceiling. "Otherwise, I'm gunna do him the favor." Greed grips his hip on one side and uses his other hand to lift the man's head back, showing the knotted veins writhing in his throat.
"Envy's been using this one for a while, so either way, he isn't coming back from it once we're done."
It was a difference in origin. While creatures of horror and vice, demons were rooted in a semblance of reality. Borne of twisted souls and darkest desires they may at times seem alien, but the allure was in how very human they were at their cores, even those that had never been. The difference was merely in how extreme they took those desires and ran with them. They were, after all, forbidden cravings. Angels on the other hand were something else entirely. Fragments of the very universe given form, mathematics and stardust swirled into beings and granted thought. Was it then any wonder that an entity that existed on the furthest edges of where matter began to take form, and traversed time as one might walk a mountain path, would have a method of speech and thought always jut a little bit perplexing?
After all, Murmur believed himself being quite frank and clear in his words, as such Greed's display of exasperation earned little more than a puzzled expression and a faint bird-like tilt of his head. "Would you like to try again?" He repeated, emphasizing the last word as though that somehow would make his meaning more clear. "If so, then I suggest you move this along..."
He lets the words drip cold, hanging heavy in the are like a late evening's freezing fog, only breaking the silence long enough to add: "Leave the vocal cords intact."
In other words, hurry up. What exactly he planned to do once the deed was done was anyone's guess. Angels didn't often make it a habit of letting anyone know exactly what sets of skills they had up their sleeves.
The burnt smear in the man's forehead smolders, letting off trails of leaky, sewer-pipe smoke. Greed watches it - the pricks of his eyes shrinking to needling points. Murmur's coyness doesn't catch him off guard. Least, not anymore. It's part of the usual: the status quote, the inch-to-mile ratio they've built over the years, and there's a million possibilities of just what the Angel has planned.
The Sin shrugs his shoulders. "Suit yourself," he hums while a second skin lithely slinks up his arm. It plays on his flesh as jaggedly as an audio turner; the pattern, sporadic. Where there had been fingers and knuckles, it's now claws and smooth carbon that remains. The epitome of avarice made hard, made sharp, made deep, deep down like buried treasures birthed by sheer pressure and force alone.
It only takes one swipe to open up the man's thigh.
"Could have just said something before. I wouldn't have wasted my time," Greed consciously sidesteps away as the blood floods in. And flood it does. From the garish tear, a thick, blackened-red pusses out of the man. Large bubbles breathe themselves to the surface, their pcks and pops phlegmy and diseased. Whether the individual feels it at all is anyone's guess. But his blank face, his slowly paling complexion: they say otherwise. He's too far gone. Too far taken by jealousy, it's promises, and it's delivery of complete and absolute nothing.
Greed flicks his wrist, sending a painter's sprinkle of blood onto the floor.
"And deprive you of your entertainment?" Murmur asked, a lilt of amusement in his tone.
The angel watched, his gaze intent while expression as emotionless as it ever was. There was something about his posture, though no obvious shift had occurred a tension had grown, a coil spring wound so tight it was ready to snap and when it did...
He swooped. Wings no more than a faint shadow in the dim light, a light breeze to twist and turn the smoke that hung heavy in the air. Predatorily he stalked around his prey, coming to lean just up beside the dying man's ear from behind. He sniffed, inhaling deep and for the briefest moment there was a flash of just a few too many teeth to be considered a smile. The man was quite still by now, unquestionably dead, and yet Murmur didn't seem put off by this in the least. Murmur, close to his ear, whispered: "Come back."
No response.
"Come baack~." Sing-song, almost mocking as he called into the dead man's ear. For several more moments there was nothing, how could there be? None could drag the dead back from Hell's gates... surely?
Yet he twitched. "There you are," Murmur crooned encouragingly. "Come back. Follow my voice." A twitch, a sputter, a phlegmy gurgle as blood and mucous crawled from the man's desperate lungs and out of his throat. He was a right sight, choking and coughing and yet undeniably what had been quite thoroughly dead was... at least some vague facsimile of alive. Murmur moved just enough to peer into his eyes, the terrified man peered back but before the gurgling sound could become a scream a hand slammed his jaw shut, a finger tapping out a firm "no" against his lips and all that escaped was a pathetic whimper.
"None of that," He snapped firmly. And when the tears began to well he sighed in disgust and stood, releasing the man's jaw. "Enough. Really, a little death and you fall apart so easily. Leave all that bravado back in Hell did you?"
The man, now trembling in an effort to control his sobbing only looked at Murmur in horror. "Y-y-... you know?" He croaked, voice cracked and strained in his tortured vessel. "Can... you can spare me, can't you? Take me out of there."
Again Murmur only stared at him impassively. Unmoved by the pleas. "No." The sobbing picked back up. "But I can offer a temporary stay of execution," Again he leaned in, this time to hiss the words with the underlying threat of 'I can send you back whenever I want.'
"So long as you prove useful to me. Do we have an understanding?"
Solemnly the man nodded, it would appear that even a few moments on the rack were enough to urge a little more cooperation. Moving back around to the front Murmur made a grand gesture for Greed to continue.
"He should be feeling more... amenable to our cause."
Surely, maybe, but there's his old phrase coming right back: nothing's impossible and there's no such thing as no such thing. Even for souls far lost, far gone, far locked away behind a fiery key and a cage of brimstone - they had a chance. Not for salvation, not a Hell's chance, but for a second to say their peace. Or, in this case, to provide a sliver of information that could be useful. He'd never say that Angel wasn't handy in that way. Sometimes, it took a crooked tongue and a little coaxing. But here? They needed a bit more of that heavenly charm. And as Murmur purrs the man's soul back into the land of the living, the Sin's quiet isn't light, it's heavy. A shadowy weight coiled between one wingbeat and the next, waiting for the call.
A lighter loudly clicks open, spinning up spark and fire as he breathes life into a new cigarette. "Now that is a terrible trick," Greed's voice is rough through the smoke. It tangles with it, melds with it, as if the two are one in the same. "Glad I'll never have to go through that." Because he could only imagine. How it would feel to sink down, down, down, only to be ripped back up again. Souls, mortal ones anyway, are fragile things. They're easy to tear apart. Piecing them back together again, though? That takes skill. Finesse. It's something neither him nor his can or would ever be able to do. Even in Heaven, it's a rare thing. So for it to come so easily, so simply, well -
The devil's inhale is slow and relaxed as he drags puff after puff deep into his chest. He'll have to ask later. For now, business calls.
"Welcome back," Greed snarls through a smile that's the furthest thing from nice. "Enjoy the trip, ya little pissant?" A litter of ash trembles off his cigarette as it bobs and jumps on the sharps of his teeth. "Gunna take your silence as a no. So, why don't we start from the beginning, hmn?" The Sin circles while he talks. He gives a wide birth at first, only to narrow as he goes; his lazy stroll punctuated by his heels as they tnk and clck atop the concrete floor like a bell tolling off hours. "You made a deal with one of mine. And now that ugly little piece of shit's decided to hightail it outta here."
He makes a second circle before moving in front of the man. Where there had been a bit of mirth in his look before, a cool expression passes over his face. It's distant and a aloof; focused and chilled. A fire forced low, low, low, yet still burning despite his efforts. There's no doubting his nature in the moment: he's a devil. The kindness, the playful tone, the flirting on an all-too-satisfied smile. He can't muster any of them. The man may not have been part of the raid on the 'Nest, but he's connected.
And avarice, ah. It's never said no to burning a few loose ends.
Greed edges his palm over the back of the chair, letting his nails bite fresh ash into the frame. "Envy," he says. "You're going to tell me where they are. After that, well. I would say I'm sorry, but you've made things a bit difficult for me. And I'm a little tired of being fucked around with. Think you understand, don't you?"
The man seems to understand and as he gingerly nods his skull, the Sin rolls his cigarette from one side of his mouth to the other. "Glad we can understand each other. I can't make you a deal that'll save you - you already fucked yourself on that. But prove yourself needy enough, and you might just have a better chance." He tips the chair back just a bit more to get his point across and the man tenses up, bracing for the fall. "Ah, yeah, that translates, doesn't it? Don't have to explain myself twice."
Greed leans forward to sigh a blistering cloud of smoke in the man's face. "Show me where they went."
Eyes flicking briefly to the devil, expression as unreadable as ever, Murmur let out a faint breath through his nose. "Did you think your kind held the monopoly on terrible?" He asked, perhaps genuinely, though with him it is always hard to say what stirs beneath the surface of those deep waters. It was true this was not a gift they all possessed, fewer still would be willing to put to use unless absolutely necessary. It left the impression that while new angels hadn't been made in a very, very long time, Murmur still counted as exceptionally old among them. Perhaps even among the first. Who could say? If Greed wanted answers, he would have to learn how to ask for them.
At Greed's sentiment of being grateful he'd never be yanked around like a puppet on a string Murmur simply smirked, something cold and almost predatory there before he turned his eyes back to his new pet monkey. For the time being Murmur would return to his lurking just out of the light, observing silently while Greed pressed the man for information.
When the final question fell the man seemed equal parts terrified and troubled, he feared Envy of course, but he also feared these two. Greed and his barely repressed violence, and the strange lurking angel that just ripped him from Hell and could send him back at any moment. Which was worse, he couldn't decide. "I-I-I can't... I don't know how..."
Murmur moved in again, hissing in his ear. "Then you will take us there."
As though he had sensed that the reason the man couldn't tell them was because he lacked a method by which to explain, but this gave him a different option. One he wasn't certain he liked much better... but what choice did he have? He nodded, if it weren't for the whole death thing he'd be sweating bullets right now.
Greed releases the chair, making the legs thunder against the concrete as if they are the only sound in the world, and the dim lamp hanging above the man blares briefly to a white-hot simmer. It's clear from the pressure in the bulb (and the painful whine it makes), the Sin is either intrigued, irritated, or a healthy combination of both. However, his face is completely unreadable. Uncharacteristically so. Chilly, smoldering, distant, and oh-so present: he's a mix of it all. A mix of everything, and isn't that so greed.
Another roll of smoke winds off his tongue as it splits in two before wetly zippering back together in strings of sweet-spun gold. "Guess I can't say no to that option. It's not like we have any other good ones." The devil unclips a ring from his belt and slides one of his nails between the clasp, releasing a key that looks fairly new. "At least tell me you're smart enough to handle a stick, friend."
Though he doesn't get an answer, Greed tosses the key to the floor. It lands between the man's spread heels; its nickel sheen almost glittering. Like a token from the ferry man thrown just out of reach. The Sin watches the man try to nudge it closer and as the metal disappears under the sole of a shoe, the slits of his eyes wildly expand again.
"Had to get a chauffeur, didn't you?" He asks Murmur, the sarcasm coming back, back, back in huffs of sulfur-burnt tobacco. "Y'know, you may have some talents there, feathers, but that ego of yours is really fucking something. Eh, whatever," he sucks at his smoke and eats away what's left of the cigarette in one long inhale. "Guess I should expect it by now, shouldn't I?"
Greed tosses the remnants of his half-cooked filter to the floor and grinds it with his heel, forcing bits of ash to scatter like spiders disturbed from their nest. "We'll do it your way, this time." The Sin steps to the side of the chair and gives it one last shove of his foot. Again, the legs teeter and totter, and the man scrambles around his loosening (and when did that happen?) binds. And as the ropes fall away, Greed strolls out towards the door; his back, an expanding shadow that seems to eat and bite at the floor as if a thousand or more souls were trapped inside, clawing to break free.
The display of heat and rage didn't seem to trouble the angel much, though it was still very effective in causing their new pet to tremble with fear. He knew he was in deep, there wasn't any getting out of this now. Somehow he doubted running would do any good, and he still wasn't sure which one was worse: The demon who made his viciousness and rage clear, or the angel that was impossible to read but dangled him on a spider's web all the same. Who knew death would be so complicated?
At Greed's quip Murmur smirked faintly, offering him his most innocent look and a faint shrug. "Now I know I've told you before I don't do monkey work, Greed." Driving, apparently, counted as monkey work. "You really must start listening when I speak." He doesn't only do it for his own amusement, after all.
Just partly.
Chuckling at the Sin's retreating back he glances over at the human fumbling to adjust to his newfound lack of feeling. That will take some getting used to, and he better be quick about it. "Come along, do try to keep up." For this one he would have far less patience than he's had with the demon.
Over his shoulder, the Sin sweeps his hand with half-hearted wave. His fingers cock off to the side and a mix leftover smoke and his own, silky soot twirl together as sure as a gun in the after shot.
"Yeah, yeah. I heard you before," he hums as he spins his gaze downward to trace out their vehicle in question. It isn't his usual choice of car. The paint job's seen better years; its color and chrome faded and beaten by the cruel fist of the sun. He traces a faint line of steel trim running its body and as a thin, bone-colored blush of dust collects on his finger, the devil's smile charms right back into place. It takes very little for his attentions to wander. And where there had been rage, burning, now there's a venomous satisfaction.
Because he'll take what he's owed. He'll take what's his. And he'll take it just as the good book says. A pound of flesh adds up, after all.
Greed jerks the driver's side door open, making the springs inside it groan and croak like a casket, airy with age. "Well, c'mon, bring you little plaything so we can get a move on. Envy doesn't stay in one place for too long." He gives the door a none-too-subtle kick with his shoe if only to snap their human guide to the task at hand.
Truly, despite how much of a pain Murmur can be, that feeling? It's certainly mutual. And he's willing to follow his lead if it means he'll get his well-deserved payout.
Murmur had moved to follow after Greed, his pace unhurried and his demeanor unconcerned. They would find Envy, all in good time. Really all he needed was a starting point, the pet would get them there... even if he failed to get them there in time. The aforementioned man had spent some time scrabbling to pick up the key, fumbling it back to the floor more times than Murmur apparently found acceptable.
"Get moving!" He snapped, the previously heated air now shifting to a biting, cruel cold.
"You try pickin' things up when you can't feel your fingers..." The man was muttering, finally managing to paw the key into an awkward meaty hand.
"Be silent," Murmur gestured, clamping his fingers together like the closing of a mouth, and the man found himself gagging and gasping, unable to speak. Apparently he was already irritated by the complaints. "Drive, monkey." He nearly snarled, the cold causing delicate curls of ice to form on every surface before it finally subsided.
This was a side of Murmur Greed probably hadn't seen much. Evidently the angel was not beyond cruelty, and certainly had no grace left to give to one who had so willingly damned his soul. Especially for one who damned it over envy of all sins. For his part Murmur helped himself to the passenger seat, spending the time to level an expectant, judging stare at the now silent man shuffling to take his spot behind the wheel.
Coolly, the Sin plucks his fingers off the roof as he watches the ice crawl its way slowly up the car. He keeps the tips of his nails a hair's breath away; the distance of them more similar to that of a man, faintly mapping out a lover's gentle curves. Greed ticks one of his eyebrows curiously above the frames of his sunglasses. Out of the two of them, Murmur has always been the one a bit more kempt. A bit more put together, letting no one, no thing, get a glimpse of what truly lies beneath. So, seeing him snap? Even for a second?
Oh, oh, oh, can he not help but look.
The devil flashes a thin smile before opening one of the backdoors. A crisp sheet of chill snaps off the lip, sending a little dusting coughing to the ground like a short, snowy squall. "Might want to listen to him, friend," Greed tongues as he slides into the seats in the rear. He sprawls out one of his legs, slapping his heel against the center console with a solid thunk. "-even I haven't seen him like this before. Would be a lot easier on ya if you took his offer."
Settling in, he plants his elbows onto either side of the door, allowing him to spread out haphazardly in the back. With the small of his spine planted into a tight corner, the Sin tips his head towards the window. Immediately, the ice across the glass begins to drearily melt - his threat of heat, cooking it to trickles. Greed reaches into his vest. "Though, think that was taking it a bit far, huh? Don't tell me you're letting those emotions of yours take control, Mur," he purrs, chidingly. It's all a part of this whole thing they have. A little give, a little teasing, and plenty, oh plenty, of take, take, take.
The Sin strikes a match across the door's top trim, causing the tip of it to huff to a flame. For a second or two, he just watches it; the flick of fire, playing dim reflections in his shades. Finally though, he coaxes it to the end of a fresh cigarette and as the black paper peels away, it's gold that answers. Gold, rich and toxic.
He presses the crank down with his elbow to toss the match out the window. "Y'know, there'll be more of them once we get there. Don't think that little trick of yours is going to work." He shifts, arching his shoulders into the frame of his tight nook. "And Envy, ah well. I'm pretty sure they already have a good idea we're coming."
A thread of smoke tangles out of his nose, and the Sin's lips peel back. The warmth of the tobacco pillows behind his teeth. It sags on his tongue like a thunderhead - the thickness of it, solid. Heavy. Greed sighs, and a sheet of smog scrapes over his grin. "Think you can keep our friend here occupied while I say hello? Then, feel free to do whatever you want." Slurring, the Sin twists his wrist. Violence isn't his go-to, not usually. But this is a bit personal, isn't it? And given the angel's current temperament, well.
They tried not to make it messy from the start, didn't they?
Indeed, Murmur was ever slow to anger. Even in acts of violence, there was an unnerving disconnect between the action and his countenance. Calculating and brutal, he destroyed with efficiency, not passion. It was a mistake, however, to assume he was beyond emotion. The glacial angel moved through existence with measured purpose, the outer facade unchanging, belying that which lay buried deep within. When a crack formed, it festered, it worked and spread until finally...
A break. Then everything came falling down.
While utterly devastating and furious, one could battle a wildfire. An avalanche one simply had to hope to survive.
The man, now commanded to silence in such a way he had no hope of regaining his tongue until Murmur relented, merely shot Greed an irritated look, before glancing more nervously toward the chilly angel who was watching him pointedly out of the corner of his eye. Facing forward, stock still, eyes tracking his every move. It was terrifying, frankly. He'd always thought angels were supposed to be the good ones.
While Murmur didn't react immediately to Greed's chiding, the chill in the car did sharpen, but for a moment. A threat of winter's deepest chill, where even the hottest fire struggled to produce warmth. Rather than take his bite to Greed at the moment, he focused his attention on their unwilling driver.
"He knew the cost when he sold his soul. The window for buyer's remorse... has passed."
The man winced slightly, scowling but not daring meet the angel's narrowed eyes. Finally Murmur turned away, focusing his attention on the road before them. How long this trip was taking already irritated him. Most of the time he could be patient, but much like that tumbling building snow from a mountainside, now that he was angry he wasn't going to calm down until the situation had been resolved.
Permanently.
"The humans and their toys do not concern me," Murmur quipped, switching his attention to the sky above them. Behind them, a storm raged, chasing their wake with all of heaven's fury. Finally Murmur turned to level that icy venom-green gaze of his upon the sin. Generally, he didn't make direct eye contact, always looking just a little off to the middle distance past whoever he was talking to. When he focused, well... the object of his focus would understand why immediately. It didn't feel like one pair of eyes, or even two, but came with the sensation of being stared down and peeled apart under the scrutiny of countless eyes. This was the sensation Greed would experience now, under Murmur's pitiless stare.
"Do you presume I will be waiting in the car for you?"
His voice was calm, the thunder roiling overhead was not.
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The familiar voice came from above, emotionless as ever. Little more than a dark silhouette punctuated with two copper-sulfate fire eyes perched on a beam as comfortable as though he'd been there the whole time. Perhaps he had been, Murmur did have a terrible habit of being where he wasn't wanted for far longer than anyone might desire. Even Greed.
He didn't budge from that perch, merely watched Greed with that peculiar intensity of his. Just what, exactly, was he offering here?
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Greed pulls his hand away, shaking the cigarette out before tossing it to the concrete. "Y'know, it would be a lot easier if you just cut to the chase, Feathers," he starts in through a cracking smile. Because he couldn't stay mad at Murmur, no. Not after all he's done, not after everything they've been through. Truly, he should be used to it by now. Where devils are clear cut with their intentions, angels? They're vague, abstract creatures with tongues laced in enough convoluted and ambiguous directions that'd it be easy, all too easy, to get lost in a simple conversation.
So instead of guessing, the devil merely throws his hands over his head in slack surrender. "If you've got a better way, I'm all ears," he hums and turns his wrists, exposing his palms to the ceiling. "Otherwise, I'm gunna do him the favor." Greed grips his hip on one side and uses his other hand to lift the man's head back, showing the knotted veins writhing in his throat.
"Envy's been using this one for a while, so either way, he isn't coming back from it once we're done."
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After all, Murmur believed himself being quite frank and clear in his words, as such Greed's display of exasperation earned little more than a puzzled expression and a faint bird-like tilt of his head. "Would you like to try again?" He repeated, emphasizing the last word as though that somehow would make his meaning more clear. "If so, then I suggest you move this along..."
He lets the words drip cold, hanging heavy in the are like a late evening's freezing fog, only breaking the silence long enough to add: "Leave the vocal cords intact."
In other words, hurry up. What exactly he planned to do once the deed was done was anyone's guess. Angels didn't often make it a habit of letting anyone know exactly what sets of skills they had up their sleeves.
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The Sin shrugs his shoulders. "Suit yourself," he hums while a second skin lithely slinks up his arm. It plays on his flesh as jaggedly as an audio turner; the pattern, sporadic. Where there had been fingers and knuckles, it's now claws and smooth carbon that remains. The epitome of avarice made hard, made sharp, made deep, deep down like buried treasures birthed by sheer pressure and force alone.
It only takes one swipe to open up the man's thigh.
"Could have just said something before. I wouldn't have wasted my time," Greed consciously sidesteps away as the blood floods in. And flood it does. From the garish tear, a thick, blackened-red pusses out of the man. Large bubbles breathe themselves to the surface, their pcks and pops phlegmy and diseased. Whether the individual feels it at all is anyone's guess. But his blank face, his slowly paling complexion: they say otherwise. He's too far gone. Too far taken by jealousy, it's promises, and it's delivery of complete and absolute nothing.
Greed flicks his wrist, sending a painter's sprinkle of blood onto the floor.
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The angel watched, his gaze intent while expression as emotionless as it ever was. There was something about his posture, though no obvious shift had occurred a tension had grown, a coil spring wound so tight it was ready to snap and when it did...
He swooped. Wings no more than a faint shadow in the dim light, a light breeze to twist and turn the smoke that hung heavy in the air. Predatorily he stalked around his prey, coming to lean just up beside the dying man's ear from behind. He sniffed, inhaling deep and for the briefest moment there was a flash of just a few too many teeth to be considered a smile. The man was quite still by now, unquestionably dead, and yet Murmur didn't seem put off by this in the least. Murmur, close to his ear, whispered: "Come back."
No response.
"Come baack~." Sing-song, almost mocking as he called into the dead man's ear. For several more moments there was nothing, how could there be? None could drag the dead back from Hell's gates... surely?
Yet he twitched. "There you are," Murmur crooned encouragingly. "Come back. Follow my voice." A twitch, a sputter, a phlegmy gurgle as blood and mucous crawled from the man's desperate lungs and out of his throat. He was a right sight, choking and coughing and yet undeniably what had been quite thoroughly dead was... at least some vague facsimile of alive. Murmur moved just enough to peer into his eyes, the terrified man peered back but before the gurgling sound could become a scream a hand slammed his jaw shut, a finger tapping out a firm "no" against his lips and all that escaped was a pathetic whimper.
"None of that," He snapped firmly. And when the tears began to well he sighed in disgust and stood, releasing the man's jaw. "Enough. Really, a little death and you fall apart so easily. Leave all that bravado back in Hell did you?"
The man, now trembling in an effort to control his sobbing only looked at Murmur in horror. "Y-y-... you know?" He croaked, voice cracked and strained in his tortured vessel. "Can... you can spare me, can't you? Take me out of there."
Again Murmur only stared at him impassively. Unmoved by the pleas. "No." The sobbing picked back up. "But I can offer a temporary stay of execution," Again he leaned in, this time to hiss the words with the underlying threat of 'I can send you back whenever I want.'
"So long as you prove useful to me. Do we have an understanding?"
Solemnly the man nodded, it would appear that even a few moments on the rack were enough to urge a little more cooperation. Moving back around to the front Murmur made a grand gesture for Greed to continue.
"He should be feeling more... amenable to our cause."
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A lighter loudly clicks open, spinning up spark and fire as he breathes life into a new cigarette. "Now that is a terrible trick," Greed's voice is rough through the smoke. It tangles with it, melds with it, as if the two are one in the same. "Glad I'll never have to go through that." Because he could only imagine. How it would feel to sink down, down, down, only to be ripped back up again. Souls, mortal ones anyway, are fragile things. They're easy to tear apart. Piecing them back together again, though? That takes skill. Finesse. It's something neither him nor his can or would ever be able to do. Even in Heaven, it's a rare thing. So for it to come so easily, so simply, well -
The devil's inhale is slow and relaxed as he drags puff after puff deep into his chest. He'll have to ask later. For now, business calls.
"Welcome back," Greed snarls through a smile that's the furthest thing from nice. "Enjoy the trip, ya little pissant?" A litter of ash trembles off his cigarette as it bobs and jumps on the sharps of his teeth. "Gunna take your silence as a no. So, why don't we start from the beginning, hmn?" The Sin circles while he talks. He gives a wide birth at first, only to narrow as he goes; his lazy stroll punctuated by his heels as they tnk and clck atop the concrete floor like a bell tolling off hours. "You made a deal with one of mine. And now that ugly little piece of shit's decided to hightail it outta here."
He makes a second circle before moving in front of the man. Where there had been a bit of mirth in his look before, a cool expression passes over his face. It's distant and a aloof; focused and chilled. A fire forced low, low, low, yet still burning despite his efforts. There's no doubting his nature in the moment: he's a devil. The kindness, the playful tone, the flirting on an all-too-satisfied smile. He can't muster any of them. The man may not have been part of the raid on the 'Nest, but he's connected.
And avarice, ah. It's never said no to burning a few loose ends.
Greed edges his palm over the back of the chair, letting his nails bite fresh ash into the frame. "Envy," he says. "You're going to tell me where they are. After that, well. I would say I'm sorry, but you've made things a bit difficult for me. And I'm a little tired of being fucked around with. Think you understand, don't you?"
The man seems to understand and as he gingerly nods his skull, the Sin rolls his cigarette from one side of his mouth to the other. "Glad we can understand each other. I can't make you a deal that'll save you - you already fucked yourself on that. But prove yourself needy enough, and you might just have a better chance." He tips the chair back just a bit more to get his point across and the man tenses up, bracing for the fall. "Ah, yeah, that translates, doesn't it? Don't have to explain myself twice."
Greed leans forward to sigh a blistering cloud of smoke in the man's face. "Show me where they went."
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At Greed's sentiment of being grateful he'd never be yanked around like a puppet on a string Murmur simply smirked, something cold and almost predatory there before he turned his eyes back to his new pet monkey. For the time being Murmur would return to his lurking just out of the light, observing silently while Greed pressed the man for information.
When the final question fell the man seemed equal parts terrified and troubled, he feared Envy of course, but he also feared these two. Greed and his barely repressed violence, and the strange lurking angel that just ripped him from Hell and could send him back at any moment. Which was worse, he couldn't decide. "I-I-I can't... I don't know how..."
Murmur moved in again, hissing in his ear. "Then you will take us there."
As though he had sensed that the reason the man couldn't tell them was because he lacked a method by which to explain, but this gave him a different option. One he wasn't certain he liked much better... but what choice did he have? He nodded, if it weren't for the whole death thing he'd be sweating bullets right now.
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Another roll of smoke winds off his tongue as it splits in two before wetly zippering back together in strings of sweet-spun gold. "Guess I can't say no to that option. It's not like we have any other good ones." The devil unclips a ring from his belt and slides one of his nails between the clasp, releasing a key that looks fairly new. "At least tell me you're smart enough to handle a stick, friend."
Though he doesn't get an answer, Greed tosses the key to the floor. It lands between the man's spread heels; its nickel sheen almost glittering. Like a token from the ferry man thrown just out of reach. The Sin watches the man try to nudge it closer and as the metal disappears under the sole of a shoe, the slits of his eyes wildly expand again.
"Had to get a chauffeur, didn't you?" He asks Murmur, the sarcasm coming back, back, back in huffs of sulfur-burnt tobacco. "Y'know, you may have some talents there, feathers, but that ego of yours is really fucking something. Eh, whatever," he sucks at his smoke and eats away what's left of the cigarette in one long inhale. "Guess I should expect it by now, shouldn't I?"
Greed tosses the remnants of his half-cooked filter to the floor and grinds it with his heel, forcing bits of ash to scatter like spiders disturbed from their nest. "We'll do it your way, this time." The Sin steps to the side of the chair and gives it one last shove of his foot. Again, the legs teeter and totter, and the man scrambles around his loosening (and when did that happen?) binds. And as the ropes fall away, Greed strolls out towards the door; his back, an expanding shadow that seems to eat and bite at the floor as if a thousand or more souls were trapped inside, clawing to break free.
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At Greed's quip Murmur smirked faintly, offering him his most innocent look and a faint shrug. "Now I know I've told you before I don't do monkey work, Greed." Driving, apparently, counted as monkey work. "You really must start listening when I speak." He doesn't only do it for his own amusement, after all.
Just partly.
Chuckling at the Sin's retreating back he glances over at the human fumbling to adjust to his newfound lack of feeling. That will take some getting used to, and he better be quick about it. "Come along, do try to keep up." For this one he would have far less patience than he's had with the demon.
He actually likes the demon, after all.
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"Yeah, yeah. I heard you before," he hums as he spins his gaze downward to trace out their vehicle in question. It isn't his usual choice of car. The paint job's seen better years; its color and chrome faded and beaten by the cruel fist of the sun. He traces a faint line of steel trim running its body and as a thin, bone-colored blush of dust collects on his finger, the devil's smile charms right back into place. It takes very little for his attentions to wander. And where there had been rage, burning, now there's a venomous satisfaction.
Because he'll take what he's owed. He'll take what's his. And he'll take it just as the good book says. A pound of flesh adds up, after all.
Greed jerks the driver's side door open, making the springs inside it groan and croak like a casket, airy with age. "Well, c'mon, bring you little plaything so we can get a move on. Envy doesn't stay in one place for too long." He gives the door a none-too-subtle kick with his shoe if only to snap their human guide to the task at hand.
Truly, despite how much of a pain Murmur can be, that feeling? It's certainly mutual. And he's willing to follow his lead if it means he'll get his well-deserved payout.
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"Get moving!" He snapped, the previously heated air now shifting to a biting, cruel cold.
"You try pickin' things up when you can't feel your fingers..." The man was muttering, finally managing to paw the key into an awkward meaty hand.
"Be silent," Murmur gestured, clamping his fingers together like the closing of a mouth, and the man found himself gagging and gasping, unable to speak. Apparently he was already irritated by the complaints. "Drive, monkey." He nearly snarled, the cold causing delicate curls of ice to form on every surface before it finally subsided.
This was a side of Murmur Greed probably hadn't seen much. Evidently the angel was not beyond cruelty, and certainly had no grace left to give to one who had so willingly damned his soul. Especially for one who damned it over envy of all sins. For his part Murmur helped himself to the passenger seat, spending the time to level an expectant, judging stare at the now silent man shuffling to take his spot behind the wheel.
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Oh, oh, oh, can he not help but look.
The devil flashes a thin smile before opening one of the backdoors. A crisp sheet of chill snaps off the lip, sending a little dusting coughing to the ground like a short, snowy squall. "Might want to listen to him, friend," Greed tongues as he slides into the seats in the rear. He sprawls out one of his legs, slapping his heel against the center console with a solid thunk. "-even I haven't seen him like this before. Would be a lot easier on ya if you took his offer."
Settling in, he plants his elbows onto either side of the door, allowing him to spread out haphazardly in the back. With the small of his spine planted into a tight corner, the Sin tips his head towards the window. Immediately, the ice across the glass begins to drearily melt - his threat of heat, cooking it to trickles. Greed reaches into his vest. "Though, think that was taking it a bit far, huh? Don't tell me you're letting those emotions of yours take control, Mur," he purrs, chidingly. It's all a part of this whole thing they have. A little give, a little teasing, and plenty, oh plenty, of take, take, take.
The Sin strikes a match across the door's top trim, causing the tip of it to huff to a flame. For a second or two, he just watches it; the flick of fire, playing dim reflections in his shades. Finally though, he coaxes it to the end of a fresh cigarette and as the black paper peels away, it's gold that answers. Gold, rich and toxic.
He presses the crank down with his elbow to toss the match out the window. "Y'know, there'll be more of them once we get there. Don't think that little trick of yours is going to work." He shifts, arching his shoulders into the frame of his tight nook. "And Envy, ah well. I'm pretty sure they already have a good idea we're coming."
A thread of smoke tangles out of his nose, and the Sin's lips peel back. The warmth of the tobacco pillows behind his teeth. It sags on his tongue like a thunderhead - the thickness of it, solid. Heavy. Greed sighs, and a sheet of smog scrapes over his grin. "Think you can keep our friend here occupied while I say hello? Then, feel free to do whatever you want." Slurring, the Sin twists his wrist. Violence isn't his go-to, not usually. But this is a bit personal, isn't it? And given the angel's current temperament, well.
They tried not to make it messy from the start, didn't they?
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A break. Then everything came falling down.
While utterly devastating and furious, one could battle a wildfire. An avalanche one simply had to hope to survive.
The man, now commanded to silence in such a way he had no hope of regaining his tongue until Murmur relented, merely shot Greed an irritated look, before glancing more nervously toward the chilly angel who was watching him pointedly out of the corner of his eye. Facing forward, stock still, eyes tracking his every move. It was terrifying, frankly. He'd always thought angels were supposed to be the good ones.
While Murmur didn't react immediately to Greed's chiding, the chill in the car did sharpen, but for a moment. A threat of winter's deepest chill, where even the hottest fire struggled to produce warmth. Rather than take his bite to Greed at the moment, he focused his attention on their unwilling driver.
"He knew the cost when he sold his soul. The window for buyer's remorse... has passed."
The man winced slightly, scowling but not daring meet the angel's narrowed eyes. Finally Murmur turned away, focusing his attention on the road before them. How long this trip was taking already irritated him. Most of the time he could be patient, but much like that tumbling building snow from a mountainside, now that he was angry he wasn't going to calm down until the situation had been resolved.
Permanently.
"The humans and their toys do not concern me," Murmur quipped, switching his attention to the sky above them. Behind them, a storm raged, chasing their wake with all of heaven's fury. Finally Murmur turned to level that icy venom-green gaze of his upon the sin. Generally, he didn't make direct eye contact, always looking just a little off to the middle distance past whoever he was talking to. When he focused, well... the object of his focus would understand why immediately. It didn't feel like one pair of eyes, or even two, but came with the sensation of being stared down and peeled apart under the scrutiny of countless eyes. This was the sensation Greed would experience now, under Murmur's pitiless stare.
"Do you presume I will be waiting in the car for you?"
His voice was calm, the thunder roiling overhead was not.