Victor watched the man closely, trying to glean as much as he could from observation alone; so far, he just looked… hunted. It could be a trap, of course–but as awful as they were, deceit was relatively uncommon to most demons. At least on a casual scale.
"Mm.“ A vague, echoing noise of agreement. “I know of one who succeeded for a time, but that’s irrelevant now. You’re being hunted by your own kind?” His skepticism was obvious–the folded arms, the tilted head, and through both eye-slots of the mask, a suggestion of raised eyebrows. “Why?”
Truthfully, there was a load of reasons as to why he was running, and the primary reason was due to the fact he couldn’t follow rules. Yes, he had destroyed countless plans, and even stepped on the toes of those far greater than him several times over. Yet, the number one reason was not keeping to the boundaries that were laid out for him.
"More or less. ” His lips pursed into a thin-line for a few moments, “I don’t feel like going back anytime soon.” More to the point, he didn’t feel like dealing with his father, and was willing to do anything to avoid that confrontation.
A demon. Doom knew them by scent by now–or near enough, at least. The disruption they left in their wake, the way all mystical forces flowed around them, simultaneously drawn and repelled–
No. That wasn’t quite right. Not entirely. Part demon, part… something else.
How very interesting.
“If you’ve come to barter, I have it on the highest authority that my soul has already been claimed,” he said lightly, eyeing the man with a steady, half-lidded gaze. “Not that the claimant will be allowed to actually collect. …And as I did not summon you, I can only imagine what brings you here.”
Bartering was the last possible course of action on his mind. To do so would have meant he was far more desperate than he already was. To do so, would have meant that he was out of options, and while it was truthful, it wasn’t exactly quite accurate.
He had options – several of them -, but he wasn’t willing to use them. Not when hiding in the last place anyone could possibly look was possibly the worst – or best – idea he had as of late.
“Is anyone ever allowed to collect these days?” An attempt at mild humor, but one that he quickly moved on from, “You make enough deals and eventually someone wants your head.”
Either way, that wasn’t why he was here, and as such, he decided to move towards the subject. His hands sliding into the back pockets of his pants as he spoke once again, “Or, in my case, someone wants to drag me back.”
Hellfirebound 