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“Home sweet - err - home?” He says unsure, questioning his word choices as he looks at you from over his shoulder, pushing his way past his front entrance area. “Make yourself at home.” He blushes as he sets his briefcase down on his desk in his small living space.
You take off your heels in the entryway, padding across his hardwood floor behind him. Your nerves positively on fire being alone with a strange demon boy in the middle of the underworld.
You look around his apartment that was not located far from the office building, much to your delight, almost right in the heart of the pentagram. According to the young demon, it was newly refurbished, state of the art apartment that he moved into after construction for his new job on the 666th floor of the devil’s snare. It was clean, much to your surprise, smelling like palo santo instead of the sulfur that coated the skies. He had lots of little figures ranging from mortal video games to animated shows that were littered all over his desk. He had a dark blue plush couch in the middle of the space, as well as a TV stand which was full of cords and wires to boxes for video games and electronic devices hooked up to the flat screen. You were astounded at how clean everything was as he watches you with bated breath from his kitchen area, drinking you in with his amber irises.
An awful, ear-splitting noise erupted from below you, splitting the silence with a knife as you look down at your blouse, realizing your stomach was complaining about something to be fed with immediately.
“Are you…hungry?” He asks you, bunny-like-fangs popping out as he cocks his head to the side to look at you, a grin spreading across his golden skin.
You grin at him sheepishly, your white feathers ruffling behind you while a bloom of pink finds its way to your cheeks once more.
“Do you like pizza?” He asks, wiggling the midnight colored tie he had around his neck as you nod your now messy bun in approval as his selection. “Anything you don’t want on it?” He asks as he pulls up the number on his mobile device.
“Just get me cheese and I’ll be a happy lamb.” You giggle as he orders quickly. You realize you needed to use your own cell phone, but you knew the connection wouldn’t go through properly, being in the center of the earth and all. “Can I use your phone for a call?” You ask when he has finished ordering every topping on his side and nothing but cheese and dough on your side.
He looks at the phone in your hand in question, quirking a brow, realizing that indeed your call probably wouldn’t go through as his would. “Sure, angel.” He smirks as he hands you his device, corded tail whipping behind him lazily.
You roll your eyes as you type in your assistant’s number, ready to relay the message of you being trapped in hell over the weekend. After a few rings, it eventually switches to his cheery voicemail greeting. ‘You’re my hope, I’m your hope - I’m your angel! I’m J-hope! BEEEEP!’
“Hi, Hobi. It’s y/n. Due to an unfortunate circumstance, I’ll be in Hell until Monday - with the papers signed. Please let Yahweh know of the situation. Have a good day!”
