The ever-present rain slowed to a trickle as Argent approached the outskirts of the small town. Raising her hands to let the hood of her cloak fall to her shoulders, she cast her gaze around. There was an air of despondence to the place, even more so than most of the towns she passed through. No one met her gaze as she walked the dirty, rundown streets, her bare toes squishing in the mud. She had been walking for days and the sight of a brightly lit inn was very welcome; she stepped cautiously over the threshold. It was only about half full, it being early afternoon, and she found a seat at the bar easily. Argent dropped her pack at her feet and perched on the bar stool, softly requesting something hot to drink of the bartender and sliding a silver coin across the bar. Briefly she considered seeing if there was food to be had as well, but her purse felt light enough as it was. She took in her surroundings as she sipped, soaking in the ambience of the place.

The single room was spacious but still felt homey, and the atmosphere was quiet, though subdued, until a man with auburn red hair barged into the place, the door smacking into the wall with a loud crack from his careless push. The man stood at the doorway, breathing in deeply before cracking his neck and shoulders. He quickly looked around the room at the occupants before making his way to the bar, sitting right next to Argent. He requested a fine whiskey. They didn't have any. He asked for whiskey in general. None. He groaned and asked if they had anything 'fun' to drink, and the bartender served him a glare and a mug of what appeared to be a heavily watered down ale. He drank down the glass in one gulp, asked what was wrong with the town, and was met with another glare and stony silence from the bartender. Argent gave a sideward glance to the loud stranger as he plopped himself next to her at the bar and made himself a general nuisance. The man sighed and tossed a few small coins onto the bar before looking over to Argent. "Service these days, eh?" he asked her, his elbow propped against the bar with his cheek resting in his hand. His eyes were an odd shade of aqua blue, almost unnatural. An old scar ran across the bridge of his nose.

Sighing slightly to herself at the ruined peace of her afternoon, she wrapped her cold hands around her drink and hunched her shoulders slightly, hoping that if she ignored him he might get bored and go back to his drinking. Her eyelashes brushed against her cheeks as she dropped her gaze to the bar and twined her muddy bare feet around the chilly legs of the bar stool.

The man seemed unfazed at her lack of response and instead asked for another mug, running his fingers through his hair even though it was already practically standing on end. When his request was met with a cold shoulder, he sighed and turned to speak to Argent again, only to become distracted when another man entered, clothing caked with some sort of grease or heavy dirt. The newcomer sat down at a nearby table and began speaking to another regular in what would have been a low enough tone not to be overheard, had her hearing not been better than an ordinary mortal's. The obnoxious man's fingers tapped a rapid beat on the countertop. "Peculiar town," he muttered to himself or perhaps to Argent, obviously straining to listen in while pretending not to.

The distressed tone of the newcomers' conversation drew Argent's attention, and she stared into her drink while focusing on enhancing her senses to hear more clearly. She relaxed her tight control on her aura, her awareness expanding to fill the room... and as it washed over the man next to her she jumped, spilling her drink everywhere. Indigo eyes wide, she ignored the mess, instead fixing her gaze at last on the stranger. Her boyish frame tensed, caught between a protective posture and one ready to fight, and she froze.

If the auburn-haired man had picked up on her body language, he didn't respond to it. Instead, he slid off his stool and made his way over to the two at the table. Suspicious, they remained silent as he demonstrated the same sort of disregard for invading personal space, pulling an empty chair away from the table, flipping it around, and plopping down in it with his arms crossed over the back. The two regulars and even the bartender eyed him disapprovingly, but he loudly offered to pay for not only their drinks but anything else they wanted.

Argent muttered a quick apology to the bartender as he came to mop up the spilled liquid, her eyes never leaving the strange man – the demon. She watched him flash his cash, unsure whether it would be a better idea to try to sneak away or to stay put -- if she left, he could always just follow and ambush her, but if she stayed, there would be the potential for collateral damage. She was able to catch snatches of the conversation between the demon and the two men – a machine that was apparently as useful for rendering ammunition as it was for mining, stolen by bandits – but most of her attention was on the more immediate problem.

Argent wasn't sure why the demon seemed so interested in the apparent theft of the town's livelihood. Maybe it was just bored. Maybe it hadn't noticed her angelic nature yet, either. She quietly picked up her pack and left. The rain had not yet started back up again, but she drew the hood of her tattered cloak over her head anyway. It was likely a useless gesture, but the concealment made her feel better. She made her way to the town's outskirts, where the ironworks was located, and used her harmless appearance to charm her way into a soft-spoken conversation with some of the idling workers that were hanging around. She learned that the essential part had been stolen about three days ago, that the town's economy would likely die without it, and several new curses. As she walked away, Argent considered what she could do to help. She wasn't sure about taking on an entire company of bandits, especially if she wasn't certain how many there were. Maybe she could track them, sneak in, and steal it back somehow... Lost in thought, she wandered down the street, toward the edge of town.

A crashing sound made her jump and spin around. The demon had apparently been forcibly – and literally – thrown out of the bar. Her fingers tensed as she prepared to call her staff, ready to have to fight him off as he destroyed the place in anger, but he merely dusted his tall, skinny frame off, flipped a middle finger in the direction of the bar, and stalked down the street toward her, jamming his hands in his pockets.

He hadn't looked up to see her yet, but she hesitated. His behavior was odd, certainly not what she was used to, and confusion warred with curiosity for just a second too long.

Finally lifting his head, the demon caught sight of her, and even this far away she could see him grin. Dread curled in her stomach. She turned and started walking away rapidly, every sense trained behind her.

Running footsteps caught up to her. Argent turned, staff materializing in her hands, and she swung the weapon to ward off a blow that never came. The demon merely leaned over backwards, hands still in his pockets as the weapon whooshed harmlessly over his head. Straightening, he held up his hands to show them empty, looking bemused. He'd dropped his human disguise and his hair and eyes were now both bright red, the hair even spikier, if that was possible. He crinkled his nose at her, highlighting the scar that marred the bridge of it.

“Oi, you're not busy now, are you?”

She stilled, her habitual quiet enveloping her like her cloak, and tightened her grip on the rough wood of her weapon. She wished that her knuckles weren't turning quite so white. “I don't want any trouble.” Argent forced all trace of fear from her voice, leaving it flat and unaffected. It usually didn't work, but if she made him aware that she wasn't interested in hunting or even in fighting him, he might leave her alone.

“Eh?” The demon used his pinky to pretend to clear out an ear. “You're not gonna give me that ‘begone, foul beast’ speech, are you? 'Cause that’s getting old,” he said, an indignant tone creeping into his manner. “‘Sides, I need your help, you know? Fighting's boring when there's adventuring to be doing, and nobody here's worth a damn, or gonna know how to track and stuff. You can do that, right?” He quickly swiveled his head around, taking in the surroundings as though to make sure no one was listening before whispering to her. “See, places like this? Such dumps, if you feel me, and there's nothing worse than having nothing to do, so I’m gonna get those bandits to hand it over. Real easy, see? But!” He held up one finger. “One person is suspicious on their own, right? But two?” he asked, holding up two digits. “That’s curious, and curiosity’s what we need! A distraction! So, you with me?”

"Wait..." Surprise washed through her and she couldn't quite mask it. "Are you asking me to.... go steal it back with you?" This was completely outside her experience; as far as she knew, demons were more interested in destroying and cheating towns than helping them. One offering to play white knight, and teaming up with an angel no less? Was there something wrong with this one, or was it still a trap? "Look, maybe I'm not the person you want going along with you..." Improbable as it was, maybe he hadn't noticed. Much as she'd like to help the town, she didn't want to get her throat slit – again -- once the demon had an ugly surprise.

A grin split his face. “Nope, you're exactly the person I'm looking for.” He strode right up to her and stuck his hand out expectantly. “I'm Axel. Nice to meetcha.”

She hesitantly touched the tips of her fingers to his palm. “Argent.”

The demon frowned slightly, confusion entering his crimson gaze. “That ain't a Celestial name.”

“My name is mine!” An unexpected surge of old ferocity hit her and she snatched her hand back. I wasn't giving it up along with everything else.

“Hey, hey, that's cool, that's cool.” He raised his hands disarmingly again, eyebrows going up. “Argent, then.” Slinging an over-familiar arm over her shoulders, he steered her down the road. She barely suppressed a flinch although her shoulders hunched, unsure how to extricate herself from the touch without sparking conflict.

Nervously licking her lips, she asked, “Why do you want to help them, anyway?”

“Because I'm soooooo boooooored!” An exasperated, overdramatic sigh and eyeroll accompanied the response. “A little bloodshed, a little entertainment, I'm happy, they're happy, you're happy, everyone's happy, see?” He shrugged, one-armed. “And nobody has to argue, except the bandits, and they're dead. And we get rewards! And besides.” His voice dropped slightly. A sidelong glance from a blood-colored eye, calculating in a way that made her heart beat faster. “You're fascinating.”

At that she did jerk away. “You don't even know me.”

Axel lifted a finger. “Ah, but you're an angel, and angels in general are interesting, but you...” He lowered the finger at her, staring at her intensely. “You. There's something different about you. You didn't try to kill me. You're not screaming, or calling me evil. Why?”

Her disillusionment, her lost faith in a regime broken enough to break its subjects, were none of his business. And he was more than different in his own way; no destruction or killing. It couldn't be as easy as both sides deciding not to strike first, could it? Argent straightened her spine, regaining her composure, and stared at him coolly.

“Maybe different should be normal.”