Contracts

I glared in ire at the blank piece of paper in front of me. The white hue mocked my jaded brain. I rested my chin against my hand and tapped my pencil against the hardwood desk in an inconsistent rhythm. My apathetic, arctic cobalt eyes were heavy with stress, sleep deprivation and hunger. I grumbled and ran a hand through my tattered and knotted chestnut hair. I could barely stay awake.

"Tired?" A low, smoky and cold voice questioned from behind me. I didn't bother to turn around. I already knew who the voice belonged to. I closed my eyes and sighed. "I asked you a question, human."

"What do you want, Pride?" I groaned, rubbing my sore eyes and turning to face the demon. He was tall, at least six feet at a bare minimum. He was lean, what I assumed to be from years of fights in Hell. He looked no older then eighteen. His skin was pale and fair, the colour of milk and honey. His face was a slight oval in shape with a soft jawline. His hair was red as fire, black accents offsetting it. Two small, but noticeable black, curved horns stuck out on his head, typical things for demons to have. A pair of strong, black wings protruded from his back. Bat-like in shape and form, but demonic nonetheless. A charcoal, long and spaded tail flicked behind him. I looked him up and down. He was terrifying to look at, but nothing scared me more than the two, almond eyes that shined like garnets set in white gold. Always vigilant, always watching.

The demon raised an arched eyebrow at me, tucking his hand into the pocket of his noir blazer, the other hand held a steaming cup of coffee. He narrowed his eyes at my impassive frame. He sighed, annoyed, and walked towards me, his shoes clicking against the floor. He set the cup down beside me. The bitter, yet enticing aroma of black coffee occupying all my thoughts.

"I came up here because I'm bored," he grunted, tucking the other hand into his pocket and sitting on my desk.

"Congratulations," I spat, my eyes locked on the coffee. The demon looked down at the mug, then back at me. He pushed it closer to me.

"Drink it, it's yours," he muttered. I snatched up the mug, taking a sip of its contents. I gagged and drew back as soon as the liquid touched my tongue. "What?"

"It's horrible," I retched. "There's no sugar in it."

"Whoops," he mocked. I glared daggers at him and pushed the cup away. I went back to staring at the piece of paper, tapping the pencil once again. The room went silent except for the constant sound of lead against wood. Pride stood up, walking behind me. I stopped tapping the pencil, waiting for him to do something. A heavy weight on my back forced my face against the wood with a squeak. "I said I'm bored," he repeated, his voice now whiny, like a child's. He had draped himself across my back and shoulders like a blanket. A blanket that needed to go on a diet.

"Orin, get off me," I growled, my words garbled as my cheek was pushed against the desk.

"Oh wow, using my name for once, I'm shaking," he said, flipping over onto his back and tucking his hands behind his head. He yawned. "For a scrawny little human, you make a comfy pillow," he remarked. "I could get used to this." I harrumphed and attempted to move, but the full weight of him kept me pinned down.

'Why did I do this to myself?' I thought. 'Making a contract shouldn't have to be mandatory for Holy Hunters. Who in the hell thought this was a good idea? I could've ended up with a lower class demon but of course, I just had to get stuck with one of the seven deadly sins!' I glanced back up at Pride, who appeared to be annoying himself. 'I really hate this guy.'

------------------ Ten hours earlier ------------------

"Come Angie wake up!!" My roommate and best friend, Gerard Herat, blared as he woke me up, his voice rivalling the volume of a foghorn. I grumbled and sat up. I opened my eyes. The grinning face of a nineteen year old man stared back at me. "We're making our contracts today remember?"