Satan's a woman?

//Ek//1//

On the morning of June 11, a multimillionaire businessman named Mr Jonathan Hewitt Malarkey passed away from an overworked heart.
His lawyer, Mr Grud, from Fargo and Grud law firm received the news at about 9 in the morning, and an urgency to distribute the assets he had left behind set his spine in motion.
As he would later recall, the will was not suspicious at all; strange but not suspicious.
Mr Malarkey had left his legacy to a woman named Ms Satan. Mr Grud had asked the last name, and received the same answer, and he couldn't decide whether somebody being called Ms Satan Satan was more unbelievable, or a woman being named Ms Satan in the first place was.
When he handed all the bank statements over to this woman, he felt a quiet chill in his pelvis, although he wouldn't remember that fact about his meeting at all. He would just remember penetrating black eyes holding his soul like his life depended on it.

An entire closet of designer clothes had been readied for this woman, a mansion emptied and redesigned in the heart of Los Angeles.
Isn't that what she had not liked about the life in hell- the monotonous routine, the uniforms, the rules. She liked that humans didn't follow these rules, not when they were alive, in the least.
Her brown tresses with hints of red fell on her Amber colored pantsuit, as she sipped a drink they called a screwdriver. Heat radiated from her cheeks, but it wasn't the alcohol doing that. No, it was the hell.

She tapped her nails on the marble she sat across, eyeing her new home, and the closet bar. Had she managed to escape?
She certainly did feel like a pressure had lifted off of her chest. She knew in the nape of her neck that if she spread her wings now, she wouldn't stop flying.
Unscin, the bartender, appreciated her benign company as well.
He'd been with Satan all the 27 years she'd sat in her musky little office. He'd found respect for her where no one else had dared to.

Soon, a visitor arrived, and he needed no introduction. His crisp white three piece suit would give him away in a heartbeat.
Unscin grabbed his scathe beneath the counter, ensuring to not act without consulting with his wits.
This was Satan's territory now. This could mean war. This could mean that every fear she'd had since a month was rational.

Satan didn't flinch. She wasn't the kind of woman who flinched. Nothing took her by surprise. She pasted a smirk on her lips and turned to meet the eyes of Gabriel.
Ah, the same blue prickle- she thought.

"Did the heaven's pipework blow away that I had the misfortune of seeing you here, Gabriel?" She muttered, emptying the glass.

"Can't I just wish to see you, Satan?" His deep voice had always bugged Unscin. Damn him and his Adam's apple. The pun didn't escape him.

"That would be worse, now wouldn't it?"

"I just came to check in on you. It's been a month since you left all your duties in hell and descended on the earth to play with humans. I thought that was a phase. I'm beginning to think otherwise."

"I didn't leave anything. I put my best man in charge. Reus loves the paperwork, you know that."

"Yes but Reus is not the Satan, is he?" Gabriel roared. "You are."

Her eyebrow twitched. The people in the city could have sweared on their sweet appetite that the air grew warmer till they saw the warmest day they ever had seen.

"Bloody release of life! Say that again, why don't you?"

"If you're not going to stay in hell, quit."

A shudder made its way through Unscin. Did Gabriel steal the mushrooms from hell? Did he not know what he was bringing upon himself?

"Quit, or I'll bring it up with the committee. I got the last Satan fired, didn't I?"