LTSH Out Of Character Community

  Soft music was playing overhead, and the rustle of expensive cloth, the clink of glasses, and the susurrus of inane conversation were all things Belial was familiar with. A small smile curled his lips. He loved these so-called high-class bars, where the patrons liked to believe that they were a cut above the common people in their common bars. They liked to believe that they had classy sins of their own, too. As if. Everything ultimately came down to the Seven, and sin was sin, wherever you found it. The sheer pride and lust and greed in the air was almost tangible. He licked his lips slowly, letting his eyes rest on the décolletage of a woman staring blatantly at him, or perhaps at the leather dog collar just barely visible beneath the collar of his white dress shirt. She flushed, turning back to her companions, but sneaking glances at him. Go on. Skim a little off those accounts. You know you want to, and nobody will ever notice. 

  He toyed with the paper umbrella that probably accounted for a quarter of the ridiculous price of his drink - not that he'd needed to pay, he never did - and leaned back in his seat, discreetly watching the people around him and pretending not to notice the eyes, both male and female, that were fixed on him. Most demons tried to be subtle*; he, however, had found that the attention often made his work easier.

  It was almost boring these days, though, with each person thinking that their entanglement, their temptation, was the first and most confusing of its sort, when the number of times he'd seen such situations could fill books. Where was the variety? The challenge?

  The door opened, and he turned to assess the newcomer.

* - Whether or not they actually succeeded is another matter, of course.