When Barbatos Closes One Door-

Part 3

"What the fuck do we do?" Mammon asked, fixing his shirt again. "Didn't you have something to do?"

Mammon looked at Barbatos, who was fixing his hair in the mirror. His slightly long hair which just hit his ears. Each time he took the comb through each tiny layer of hair to make it look messy, Mammon stared at the veins in his hand; Popping out in tendrils down his arm. He looked like a painting.

Mammon decided his looks wouldn't kill.

The rings on the table glittered enticingly. It was hard to take their eyes off of them. The silver and gold shined. The watery quality fit just into the cool apartment, sending shivers up his spine.

"Pass me the water" Barbatos said, without looking at him. Mammon took a square container with flat water infecting its surface. He placed it down on the tall shelving he left empty for the mirror.

"Thank you, honey"

"Your welcome. You never answered me, by the way." Barbatos relaxed his chest and looked back

"Were going to go rob a ranch family" he said, as if it was the easiest thing he'd ever done. "You in?"

Mammon signed "Your an idiot ya know that? Of course I am hot stuff." The look on Barbatos face made it worth it. The surprised smile he had as he fixed himself up. Mammon walked to the bathroom and put his hair in a ponytail. His spiky bangs still covered his forehead. It wasn't great but he didn't have much to work with.

His apathy lasted until the door. He was going to have to go back and find Barbatos waiting for him. He pulled back his hair and straightened out every tendril of his hair. The anxiety would've killed him if he came out with his failed hairstyle.

Barbatos leaned back in his chair, heavy lidded eyes, head leaned back, arms behind his head. Slicked back hair looked good on him. Mammon walked behind him and let Barbatos lean his head on his stomach.

"Your going to break your neck."

"We'll go in a couple minutes, I'm a bit tired" Barbatos complained.

They let a few minutes pass just like that. Mammons hand on his shoulder, Barbatos's head on his stomach.

A tendril of hair fell back into Mammons forehead, and he cursed himself for his sloppy hair. Barbatos handed Mammon a map of the place, marked with what he was looking for.

A piece of paper.

"Grab any jewelery you can carry." He smiled back at Mammon, face framed by the steady vines of hair falling back into his face. Blue eyes glassy in the yellowed light.

Barbatos finally got up, flipping Mammons hair in his hands, fixing it with wetted hands. His cold fingers lingered in his head like the sweet melodies he used to hear.

The silence wasn't too quiet anymore.

- - -

Mammon looked to the side as his hair flitted past his eyes, the wind catching him as they cruised down the dim, packed dirt street. The round sound lifting him up as his energetic face lit up the road around him. Leaning back, looking at the colored sky. The long sunset colored his hair.

He always felt more alive in the greed ring. Mammon didn't have to hide himself here.

The light yellow fields against the orange sky. Green, white, and purple came and went in a blur as they passed these beautiful farms while going through the marbled ring that gluttony and greed inhabited.

The quick road passing the farmstands, the barbecues, the horses and the dogs. Each time he tired out his head looking from side to side, he'd lean forward and put his forehead on Barbatos's back.

Mammon could've stayed there forever.

After that soft motion, Barbatos let out a breath. The light faded with the  and the hard headlight on his bike lit the road ahead. Heavy darkness set on the pavement as the color seemed to sink deeper and deeper. Barbatos' tall figure catered well to the Devildom night. A feint figure, softening the darkness with his presense. His color glinted and glittered, but never kept the light for long. A lantern to the side would light up the couple, taking over the night.

He drove the long road for hours, never bothered by the time. A warm feeling crept up on him despite the air brushing past his shoulders. Mammon never seemed to get cold...

- - -

Mammon finally awoke to a grandious mansion in front of him. The beautiful antique architecture he could never find away from home. He let his hand slide on the beautiful stone structure before him.

Barbatos ducked his head and found an open window, letting out a whisper about careless rich people.

"Take what they won't miss." he said, and slipped inside. Mammon crept the other way as Barbatos. The haunted atmosphere they'd left did little to sate his greed, leaving a hole to fill. He found a closet in a guest room stocked clothes and jewels and bags. He knew the kind of people who would leave treasures unnatended. Grabbing two bags and finding frankly boring jewelry. They wouldn't miss it.

Each room was like this, being alone with all these pieces left him to contemplate his own strategies when he... borrowed... from his brothers. Especially Levi. Levi treasured each of his possessions, Satan wouldnt notice if a few of his books were missing. If he knew which boks he could sell.

Mammon suddenly felt extremely shallow. He didn't dwell on it.

He took the ugly purses downstairs. He was doing them a favor by getting rid of such ugly pieces. They could always buy more so it didn't matter. He knew he wasn't hurting them so there wasn't actually a reason to be guilty. He could take twice as much and they'd just buy it back. They might even welcome the possibility.

With a house like this they'd just fire one of the maids and call it a day.

Sharp footsteps echoed through the hallway and Mammon found himself in a wardrobe, quicker than he found his train of thought. The clothes he put in the purse silences the metal pretty well, better than he'd imagined. He leaned back, settling in to the short drawer. He sat with his knees bent.

He traced the grains of wood on the back of the drawer. Reminding himself of what would probably happen when he came clean. Why did he always come clean? "I'm such a coward" he whispered to himself. He froze at the sound of footsteps. He was such a failure, he was going to be caught again, and they'd tell for him. He counted the rings. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. "Lets see if im right this time." A bet with himself. He hated that game.