Satan's Just a Playboy with Better Taste in Clothing

Candor

Thud, bounce, catch.

I couldn't even begin to process what Abbicus said to me.

Thud, bounce, catch.

All I could do was find a quiet place to think.

Thud, bounce, catch.

Only problem was, a certain somebody followed me there.

Thud, bounce, I snatched the ball out of the air before Linus could catch it again. He almost complained, but when I threw the ball out the window and into the street, he realized he'd only upset me even more. Instead, he put his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and leaned back against the wall in a huff.

My apartment wasn't much to look at. Any apartment that is was way out of my price range. I was lucky to find a place that was in a decently safe neighborhood. A studio and a tiny bathroom was a price I gladly paid for it, along with nine-hundred dollars every month, plus utilities. I worked hard for it, and I was proud of myself. My devilish guest wasn't impressed, however.

"Can we go back to my place or something?" Linus asked. "This place makes me uncomfortable."

"Why? Is the Ikea furniture cramping your bad boy stereotype style?" I said, remembering Cameron's comment.

"No." Linus hissed, trying his damnedest to not bite back. "It's too cramped in here. Reminds me of The Basement."

"What, The Devil is claustrophobic? That's a laugh and a half."

"Screw off. If you spent who knows how long in the dark and the heat of that place you'd be a bit messed up too."

I was going to tease him about forgetting just how long he'd been down there, but then I remembered that he was just a few steps shy of a God. Immortality probably skews your sense of time. Besides, I didn't feel like arguing anymore.

My apartment didn't have much space, so I didn't have much stuff. A couch, a few chairs, a crappy TV I never used, and a couple of posters and pictures on the wall. Cameron hates it, says the lighting is awful. It's not my fault they put up a billboard across the street.

"Was it that bad?" I asked, not thinking about how it might make him feel.

He didn't answer for a long while. Just stared at the wall where he'd been bouncing his ball a few minutes before. Eventually, he took a deep, calming breath, and turned to look at me.

"When I was... Up there," He said, pointing toward the ceiling. "Things weren't always as harmonious as you might believe. And before you ask, no, it was not all my fault. For a long time, I was actually quite well behaved, if you can believe it."

"I don't, but go on." I said. He smirked.

"Once I stopped being a good boy and started thinking for myself, my Padre and I never got along. Shocker, I know. See, the being you all call God, that thing up in the sky that has all the answers and can see every equation, he's bullshit."

"That's harsh. Even Gods love their kids, right?"

"Gods love their servants. The second I stopped doing everything he said without question, I was dead to him. That rebellion in your little holy book was blown way out of proportion."

"So, you're saying you didn't incite a civil war up in Heaven."

"Hardly. He and I had a bit of a blowup, but I didn't show up at his doors with three hundred angels ready for war. The real thing wasn't much worse than a spat all things considered, but back then defying my father meant defying your only reason to exist. So most of the time, those who defied him stopped existing."