Even when assuming a guise that could be perceived as relatively human, Zazel managed to come across as something else, something demonic. His black hair was tousled in a style suggesting an off-duty businessman – which he supposed he was – and his clothing matched that, a black shirt which was untucked and as messy as his hair. He preferred this look, not wanting to appear as strict as humans often were – that, and he found it often worked in his favour when making deals with mortals, them often seeming to agree to the terms when they were laid out by some mysterious stranger as opposed to if they were told by some hellhound spitting fire and brimstone. He had tried the latter several times, but it rarely seemed to work, only the crazy ones ever seeming to accept.<br/><br/>The one he was going to see tonight was far from crazy however and had been a young girl in over her head, worried about the consequences of something far beyond her control. Ten years ago this night Zazel had seen her, pretending to care as she spurted out what seemed to be her life story, about how she had this magic she couldn’t control, how she knew that something bad was going to happen, and couldn’t he help her stop it? Of course, Zazel had agreed, partially because he had never struck a bargain with one so young, and partially because there was something different about this one. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it was there.<br/><br/>The demon looked at his open palm as if it dredged up fond memories, of the night where demon and witch had sealed their bargain in blood, him dampening whatever dark magics she seemed to have, and her promising to return the favour at a later date. Closing his hand, he looked across the street, seeing bright lights and hearing rowdy crowds, indicative of some sort of party – humans seemed ever so fond of them. Running a hand through his hair, he walked across the street, every part the young professional out for a drink, if only for the subtle grin and fiendish look in his eye.<br/><br/>He got a drink from the bar, proffering a note to the bartender, fully aware that the glamour would fade away within a few minutes, the man desperately looking for the money he had had only a few minutes before. It was a basic trick, but one that worked every time, fuelled by either greed or stupidity. He settled into a chair which had a view of the entire floor, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket which he lit with a subtle pass of his hand, purposely ignoring the ‘No Smoking’ sign. He found that mortal often left him alone, either because they felt uneasy telling him to stop, or because they figured he must have a reason for disobeying their carefully planned out rules.<br/><br/>He could see her in the distance – Kassandra was her name – with a group of girls composed of what he assumed was her coven, the thing he had sensed all those years ago still burning inside her, like an ember which refuses to die. The dark magics were also there, Zazel being able to see them as thin wisps of darkness surrounding her, like some great Lovecraftian monster come to claim a prize.<br/><br/>He inhaled deeply on the cigarette, eyes closed in as close as he could get to bliss. Out of all the things that man had ever made, alcohol and tabaco had to be the best; both they enjoyed immensely, and both they knew lead to an early death, and yet they consumed them in quantities which would astonish anyone, in full knowledge that one filed their lungs with tar, and one lead them to make imbecilic decisions. Needless to say, the demon felt none of these effects, and was free to revel in their taste.<br/><br/>He caught the eye of a young witch and smiled at her, the prospect of a new deal looking bright, before she was herded away by some man, dashing the demon’s hopes. He saw the man give a parting kiss to whom he recognised as the young witch from a decade ago, and grinned at her as she caught his eye, raising the glass in his hand in a manner similar to one old friend greeting another. Clearly, she had not told anyone about her deal, although Zazel would be interested to see how long that would remain true.<br/><br/>She got a second drink, stronger this time, and made her way towards him, sitting in the chair opposite. She whispered something about being subtler and questioned if he could sense the power. Zazel grinned, fully aware that this meant she still didn’t really know the significance of the deal she had made with him. He ignored her questions for now and spoke as if he hadn’t heard her, a British accent shining through, one he quite liked: rough, and yet almost universally loved.<br/><br/>“Last time I saw you, you were crying in the rain. Now look at you, all grown up, independent, leader of your own coven, even got your own bloke on the side. How proud I am,” he said, grinning wide as he placed a hand on his chest. “Saw some of your underlings giving me the eye as well, you ought to warn them about things like me, if you even know the dangers yourself.”<br/><br/>He leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying himself, eyes losing the former green colour and taking on a sickly yellow tone, teeth seeming sharper and more jagged, grin seeming less playful and more dangerous.