Black Sheep

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Author's POV:

(1) "Voici votre nourriture, monsieur," Marquas mutters in an agitated tone as he sets down a plate of Quiche Lorraine that he had to remake twice already for the picky son of a bitch sitting at the large table in the dining hall of Hell.

"About time! You better have made it right!" The comment from the random stranger makes the Frenchman silently fume as a thin stream of smoke rises from his black hands. Thankfully, the sleeves of his light grey button-up have been rolled above his elbows in case the appendages catch fire. His left eye twitches as the unknown male spits out the food he had shoveled into his mouth. "This tastes like shit!"

That was it.

His sanity snapped.

Marquas grabs ahold of the demon's head and slams it repeatedly against the wooden table with his hand burning a bald spot in the creature's black hair. The main doors open to reveal Eric's casually dressed form as he slips into the dining room and walks up to the fighting duo. This doesn't break the chef's concentration, however, so Eric lifts a finger and opens his mouth.

"Can I have a waffle?"

Marquas slams the insulter's head harder against the table, causing the thick wood to crack and blood to pour from the man's head. Seeing as he didn't hear, Eric clears his throat before speaking louder with his hands cupped around his mouth.

"Can I please get a waffle?!"

The infuriated demon releases an angered growl before throwing the unconscious figure against the brick wall while breathing heavily. He gives a few huffs to settle down before running a hand through his raven locks and meeting the younger male's glasslike eyes.

"What kind?"

"Chocolate chip!" He chirps as though the scene never happened before sitting in a chair.

"Fine, just clean up the shit." He mutters while pointing to the man who dared to speak to him in such a crude manner. His student beams in delight, causing the older male to roll his black and gold eyes.

(2) "Oui, monsieur!"

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Translations:

(1) Here is your food, sir.
(2) Yes, sir!

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