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Tré looked at the folder then the room door in front of him. The hotel was nice, but he could feel a dark aura. Like a demon is present. He remembers Dallon rushing up to him saying he might be stuck in a hotel room with the demon, but that was unconfirmed. Nonetheless, he pushed open the door and saw an oh so familiar face reading a torn up folder.

"Billie?" Tré said, clearly astonished. The demon sat up in the bed, looking confused.

"Oh-, uh, who is this Billie you speak of? My name is, uh, Joe. Yeah, Joe Armstrong," the demon said. Tré raised his eyebrow. He could see the smirk tugging at the lips of 'Joe'.

'Joe' stood up, going to the door, before getting pushed back by Tré. He stared right into the beautiful green eyes, pulling the taller to a chair.

"Say, Joe, since we are both in this room, and we are gonna be here for a few weeks, how about we get to know each other?" Tré suggested. 'Joe' sighed and looked at his watch.

"I guess I have a few minutes, but I need to get somewhere fast," he said, looking anywhere besides Tré. Tré could only roll his eyes.

"So, let's start with something easy, where are you from?" Tré asked.

"San Francisco, you?" Joe was either really good at lying or he was from the Bay area.

"Chicago, what's your job? Or at least, why are you here?" Tré asked, trying to catch the green eyes again.

"Min- never mind, I'm here to meet up with some old friends," Joe said, looking away even more. Tré made a mental note of that.

"What was that first thing?" Tré asked.

"Ugh, fine, you fucking caught me, pretty boy, I am Billie, the demon you met. For fuck's sake, how'd you find me?" the demon said.

"I was assigned here, but, I want to know, how'd you get so sly with the name and where you live part?" Tré asked, raising his eyebrow.

"My full name is Billie Joe Armstrong, and I lived in San Francisco before I died," Billie said, looking straight at Tré. Tré nodded and noticed a torn up folder on the table. He reached for it before a tight grip appeared on his wrist. He traced the arm back to Billie and saw dark red eyes, staring him down. The grip grew continuously tighter and it aches his wrist. He tried to pull it away, but the hold was too tight.

"Don't fucking touch that folder, that's my shit, don't mess with my shit," a deep, echoey voice said, it couldn't possibly be Billie's, no, Billie's was soft and laughable. Tré looked back at Billie and could've sworn he saw horns growing on Billie, before they disappeared, the grip on his wrist loosened and Billie's eyes went back to their normal green color. Today was already a bit eventful.


--EN: nothing to see here, jUst another beautiful chapter. GIVE IT SOME LOVE. not really sorry ~ rin--

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