The Lives of Adeline

Azazel

Azazel walked aimlessly around the pastry shop. 

There was no rush after all, this was his first time showing his face here, though he trusted himself in his ability to not die. He walked up to one of the windows, and used his cane to push the curtain away, looking at the dark sky outside. He didn't flinch as a knife was brought up to his throat.

"State your business," the man behind him had said. Looking through the window's reflection, Azazel could see the man behind him quite clearly.

"Ah, Vermon, just the person I was looking for! Say, what would a simple pastry cost?" Azazel had an uncanny cheer in his voice, a well faked movie accent, and he saw Vermons shoulders tense up, "oh i'm kidding! I could never eat sweets, too sugary for me,"

"Do I know you?" Azazel could only laugh at that.

"Not in the slightest my good man! Oh, but I'm sure that doesn't matter all too much," he paused, looking at Vermon with a knowing smile. "That Adeline situation was bothering you, wasn't it?" he chuckled, voice sounding more like a hyena rather than a person. "Oh you poor soul, guess you won't be getting your revenge on her now!"

Vermon let out a low growl, and Azazel didn't even flinch as a knife was hurled towards him, simply stepping out of the way before it could hit him. 

"Oh tsk tsk, you really oughta get better with your aim," Azazel sighed, before grabbing the knife. "This is rather nice, mind if I keep it?" he asked, though he didn't even bother waiting for an answer, before placing the knife in his suit jacket's inner pocket.

"Well," Vermon said, biting his tongue, "what do you suppose I do about such a thing? It's not as if I can revive her."

"Well," Azazel brushed off the imaginary dirt on his jacket, "that doesn't mean you can't take back what she stole. She's dead now, is she not?" Azazel could see the gears working in Vermon's mind, holding out the silent offer, before turning away. 

"Oh, but I suppose you already know where the documents are, so you wont need my help," he turned away. It was like dangling a chocolate bar in front of a child's face before pulling it away, taunting.

"How do you know about that?" Vermon snapped, unaware of how easy he was to read, he felt like a picture book to Azazel. "Where are the documents? What do you want? Who are you?"

Azazel glanced back at Vermon. "For now? I suppose you could call me an ally—" Azazel paused, turning to Vermon with that smile that seemingly never fell, "—for a price, that is."