Drabble sequel to Wrong.
by Airiz Casta
“Angel,” the demon said in recognition.
He was smirking, but it was a brittle expression; utter one word that might be his weakness and the thin mask would break in just a microsecond. She was certain about it—he was hurting. It was like he stepped on something sharp and was pretending not to feel anything because one of his adversaries was watching.
She flicked a lock away from her eye. “You know, sometimes it’s not weakness to show weakness. You may be a supernatural being, but you have to face the fact that you’re also not perfect. We’re not perfect.”
He flinched at her words. She thought she saw a glint of fear in his eyes—fear that she was aware of what he was really feeling right now—but it was gone before she could even squint to confirm it. He chuckled and shakily raked his fingers through his soot-black hair.
He was nervous. She heaved a deep breath. It wasn’t her problem.
“I have missions to accomplish,” she said with a feigned yawn, “and that means you have your missions too, the first one having to do with stopping me from completing mine. Now, back to work?”
Her feathers ruffled as she pirouetted to face him again.
“I think he’s an angel lot so you might know something about him,” he said. “Cupid, I mean. Are his arrows invisible even to us? And if he targets an entity with no heart of any kind, is he going to aim for the hypothalamus—er, yeah, since that’s the real source of emotions—”
“I think,” she cut icily, “that you should get a day off or something. Endless questions and blabbering… I think human beings are rubbing off on you, which is bad, since it should be the other way around. But just so you know, Cupid is not an angel. About the arrows and that hypo-something, I don’t know, but without a heart—”
…wait. Oh dear, how can she be so slow?
“No way, demon. You’re in love?”