once_janus | (no subject)

{Little Hades Fiction}
Leaving Paris

"An' how long, exactly, you thinkin' of bein' away?" Elizabeth still can't figure out how the ancient demon woman can make her feel as though she's being stared down, with her swollen apple-sized eyes stitched shut. Barely four feet tall, this killer grandma is one of the more intimidating demons Elizabeth has encountered in Hell; lucky for her, this one doesn't seem to spit on angels purely out of principle.

She can, however, sense when a good draco can be made off thier suffering.

Elizabeth's suffering, in this case. The grim young woman runs through it all in her mind. A few weeks, Christine had said. Make it three there, three back, and some added time for the complete guarantee of Shit Going Wrong, and...

"Three months," she states firmly, unaggressive but unflinching from her request. "I'm going to look for someone, but I'm coming back."

The demoness' wiry grey hair sticks to her sweaty face as she continues to pin Elizabeth with her eyeless penetrating stare.

"Folk always ask for more time than they need. I'll give ya' two. Out of the goodness of my old ticker, I'll hold your place for two whole months, and when ya' come back, you can work for three, givin' me every draco they tip ya, to make up for all the business I'll lose without ya serenading folk into the shop."

"That's a little mutch--" Elizabeth does not spare her tone the stark indignation she feels; this ancient hag has made so much money off of her already; could she not simply cut the angel woman a bit of slack? But of course she wouldn't, because nowhere else in town would even consider holding a place for a citizen of heaven on a very slightly suicidal quest. Her things would end up sold, and she would have nowhere to return to. The bitch drives a hard bargain, but as always, it's the best deal on the table.

"Not a soul goes up there while I'm away," she threatens through grouchy acceptance, unable to do much more than that.

"Not until two months exactly is up; you got some real classy contraband up there dearie, enough to earn me a shiny pile of dracos at least half a foot tall. Now listen; you been here long enough, so I know ya 'aint stupid. But guess what songbird, despite what you think, you ain't immortal here. You could end up Lost, the Big L, get what I'm sayin'? And I wanna unload your this and that so I don't get any trouble, understand?"

Elizabeth regards the tiny fearless demoness, the blind old granny she watches bake ten million cookies a day and throw out seven foot horned men on thier asses. She's not exactly endearing... but most people --demon, or angel-- won't stick thier necks out even that far. If the wrong people showed up, the establishment's owner may end up with some uncomfortable questions to answer.

It occurrs to Elizabeth how completely legitimate it is to want to hussle away illegal goods, before some overzealous idiot gets wind of the stash.

"Two months," she agrees reluctantly with a narrow eyed stare of displeasure.

"I knew ya were a smart one. Try and get back soon, huh sweetheart? That fanclub of yours keeps gorging on macaroons; need you're perky pretty butt back here prompto, mm'kay? Glad we had this talk. Alright, bye bye now."

Elizabeth can only stare as the tiny toad woman waddles off, uncertain which exact shade of indignity she should be wearing.

Nevermind; there is too little time and too much that needs doing for her to stand here like a dope.