"What's next?" I asked Micky. He shrugged.

"Dunno. You chose. Not much to do but wander and chitchat right now anyway."

"I'd like to yell at the kids then." I said, after a second of thought.

"Geez, you're really into yelling at people all of a sudden. Getting a bit aggressive, huh?"

"Micky, I just got stabbed."

"Yeah. You should have tried being in the army back in war times though! Those were the days... for getting stabbed, at least. Terrible times those were. Terrible, fun times." We had got on the elevator and changed floors, but at random. I didn't have a clue where anyone was.

I spotted Amy in one of the conference rooms that adorned this building, and went inside. She was surrounded by her friends, and she waved cheerfully at me.

I walked up to her, as cold faced as I could manage. "Hey. Fuck you."

Her smile fell instantly. "Come on. If you're in a bad mood, I'd rather not deal with you."

"Drop the whole high road persona. Back in the tunnels? I got stabbed because you were running around where you weren't supposed to go."

"Oh, that's barely my fault." Amy waved off my words. "You're fine."

"What? Why is getting stabbed such a minor thing to everyone?"

"I mean... It's not like, losing a limb or something. You're a hellhound- you probably won't be left with a scar."

I decided to try and yell. "I got stabbed!"

"Yeah. Chill out about it. Look, everyone else is just glad I'm fine. That angel-killing guy spared my life, hooray, et cetera."

"I got roped into a pointless venture to find you. And I got attacked."

"He spared you too." Amy shrugged. The girl brushing her hair made a sound like 'yeah'. "If I hadn't been down there, all those angels would have still died. You wouldn't have gotten stabbed, but whatever. This probably won't be the last time you get shanked by some wandering idiot."

"Who says that to someone. Who tells someone they're going to get stabbed."

"God, it wasn't a threat. It was a factual observation."

"Ug. Just- I got stabbed." I pointed at Amy for emphasis. "It's your fault."

"Sorry." She said. "Also? Don't you think it's a little creepy for a twenty two year old man to be screaming at a young girl like this? Or even to be in a room with all these other minors." She gestured to her friends.

"Micky's like forty."

"He's not yelling at me though. He's benevolent, like an armchair."

Micky beamed at the comparison.

"Fine. I'm leaving." I said, turning around.

"Oh, since you didn't ask-" Amy said. "Our concert went well, thanks, and yes, it is impressive we were so well received for a bunch of high schoolers! Why yes, we did win a city-wide battle of the bands- oh, that's your favorite song? I like that one too!" She said in a high, fake voice. Then her voice fell back down to its normal sound. "Oh, and thanks for all your help with rounding up the special guests of the night. It took a lot of legwork for me to find them on my own."

I was mostly out the door by the time she finished talking, and Micky was laughing in short bursts. Before closing the door, he yelled "By the way, your daddy says he loves you!"

We got in the elevator on default, and I hit the highest button.

"We're not really allowed in the penthouse, but whatever, I'm cool." Micky said. "By the way, back there, Amy totally just beat you the hell up. That was a pathetic attempt to yell." Micky looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, you did succeed in the yelling part, so I suppose you did okay."

"Thanks."

The elevator came to a penthouse, as promised. Someone was currently living in it, so I suppose walking out into the place felt a lot like teleporting in the middle of someone's living room. There wasn't a front door, at least.

Micky took the lead, knowingly navigating to a balcony that overlooked the city. He rested on the rail and looked down. I joined him.

"Seriously, that was hilarious." He said, still occasionally chuckling.

"Didn't really seem that funny." I said.

Micky looked like he was wrestling with the concept I presented. "Yeah. Suppose so. You're just a funny guy. I find like everything you do hilarious."

"I don't really think I live that funny of a life, Micky." I said, sounding as serious as my vocal tone was capable of.

"No. But from my perspective- Look, sorry if you're upset about it. You sound upset about it."

"I'm not. Just tired of... all this bullshit everyone seems intent on forcing me to wade through. No one wants to talk honestly with me." I paused. "Nothing harsh, but you included."

Micky's face fell. "I know. I love you, but there's... there's a lot of shit going on right now that... I guess I'm not allowed to tell you about."

I groaned, but instead of further complaining, I focused on something else Micky had said. "Do you mean that?"

"What?"

"You love me?"

"Oh. Yeah, course I mean it. We've known each other long enough. Having to guide a clueless newbie like you around for the last few months has awakened some sort of mother duck maternal instinct in me, man."

"No, I was more asking if..." Suddenly what seemed like a simple way to confirm my suspicions about Micky had become god tier awkward. I was quiet for way too long before I reminded myself that it would ultimately be worse not to finish my sentence. "Are you gay? No, wait, I guess you'd have to be bisexual, and uh, sorry- do you have some kind of crush on me?"

Micky had a blank expression on, an open mouthed mix between a smile and a gasp. It was fairly clear he was again trying not to laugh. "Nope, Robles, I'm straight as fuck. But you're gay though? Not a huge surprise, if you don't mind me saying, but you didn't have to feel so nervous about coming out to me. I have fucktons of gay acquaintances. Hell's like really non-bigoted, you know, and I probably wouldn't have spent so long trying to set you up wi-"

"I'm not gay either."

"Oh. But you thought I was?"

"You just seem... really- god, I'm so sorry for bringing this up. This is so weird."

"It is. But do I come off as gay? I don't care, of course, but like... do I read as gay?"

"I don't know. You just seemed like you might've had- Okay, I don't want to talk about this anymore. It's too awkward. Let's just drop it."

Micky nodded. We stared at the city in silence for another five minutes, and then went inside after that proved to be incredibly uncomfortable.

"Who are you going to yell at next?" Micky asked me as I stood in the elevator, debating which button to press.

"What time does everything start?"

"Six. Still got a lot of hours left." Micky pressed a button. "Here. Let's go hang with my former coworkers. And other present compatriots. Or at least, whoever is still hanging in the boardroom."

When we got to the floor, Micky paused in front of the boardroom. He murmured something, I think disrespectful of the three people who were sitting there, and instead took a couple more turns down the hall. There was a small little lounge set up that reminded me exquisitely of a hotel lobby, and a lot more people sitting about.

One blonde girl, surrounded by luggage, leapt up and ran to hug Micky. She nearly squealed as she shouted his name.

Then she stopped to look at me, rather cautiously. "My name is Glenn Illuzi."

"Martin Robles." I said, and I shook her hand. "I've heard of you. You're... attending law school?"

"A very nice, prestigious, and famous law school, yes. I used to be the most powerful lawyer in Hell, actually, but during the peacetime government reforms, it was decided we needed someone with actual knowledge of the law to be the supreme guardian of justice. I trained some successors, made sure my kingdom was secure, and departed to get accredited."

"How were you allowed to practice law without a degree?"

Glenn smiled coyly and wagged her finger at me, like I was surely jesting. "I was really good at killing birds, of course!"

Micky pulled me away by the arm and brought me closer to the lounge. "To make things quick- Noel, Stacy, Lane, Moll, and Kell. And you know Christina." He said, pointing around the room. I vaguely knew who some of them were, but I rarely trusted my eyes. I never wanted to assume I knew who someone was, since getting it wrong was so awful.

Micky settled on the couch very closely next to Stacy, who gave a look of distain and moved slightly over. There were no seats for me near him, all the arm chairs across from him filled, so I sat a table a little distance away. Kell was sitting there next to Christina, working on what seemed to be needlework.

I didn't know them very well- besides running into Christina in the bathhouse, of course- and their marriage still seemed strange to me. I didn't like having an adverse reaction to any sort of mutual relationship, but the two of them just didn't look right for each other. I guess any couple with an age gap seemed suspicious to me- it made no sense for me to compare a celebrity like Christina to a gold-digger, but the assumption came naturally to me.

Kell was quite old by demon standards, and of course all demons age with remarkable grace anyways. His skin seemed damaged with age, a thing that I had heard happened to all demons on the brink of their life- there was a subtle grey hue to much of his body.

It didn't help that he had a large grey scar over his mouth either, a gross looking thing that looked like giant bacteria lurking under the surface of his face. His hair was greying too, though peppered with spots of white and his own natural dark hair. He looked weary, too. Maybe I was being too judgmental.

His wife was at the prime of her life though- or, most likely, she was somewhere around forty. But being a demon separates youth from prime fairly cleanly. She was really pretty, though not in any substantial way- she reminded me of one of those nice looking girls they have pose for obscure magazines on biking or health foods.

No one was really going to stop and wonder who she was, but she still looked nice. She had the whole old american ideal thing going on, white skin that might've seen half of a tan, with blonde hair and blue eyes. She could've been some low-grade actress in a TV show about sororities, I think. She had that look.

Christina half glanced up from her book and gave me minimal smile, but left her acknowledgements at that.

"Hey." I said. Kell looked up, waiting. "Christina." He looked down again. "Michael was looking for you."

"He knows where I am." She said in what I thought was a somewhat sad voice.

"It's more like he asked me to send you to him. I was talking with him earlier, and-"

"You upset him?" She said, loudly closing her book. "What were you talking about?"

"His kid. Amy has been a real hassle, you know. I got- Well, I got stabbed by some lunatic during events that were her fault, so I went and yelled at Michael for it."

"I told you not to worry about Amrael. Though that does sound like something I'll have to take care of." She stood up.

"She's an awful kid." I said.

"It's not her fault." Kell said without looking up. "Michael doesn't know how to raise a kid."

"He hasn't had custody for years now, and he's doing his absolute best." Christina said, testily.

"And he lost custody for a very good reason. A number of good reasons."

Christina sighed. "Yes." She left quickly, walking towards the elevator.

I waited a moment. Then I leaned closer to Kell in what I hoped didn't come off as a odd move. "What happened?"

Kell didn't make eye contact, focusing on his work.

"He threw a fit six or seven years ago. I'm blessed not to know the exact circumstances, but I do know it ended with him beating a man senseless in a pub at four pm on a weeknight after having screamed at his wife and hit his daughter. Divorce papers came not long after." Kell's delivery of that information was very relaxed.

"Holy shit." I said, not wanting to sound as alarmed as I was. Then again, Michael was a bit...

I tried not to finish that thought.

"Have you become well acquainted with Michael?"

"No. He punched my friend once in the bathhouse."

"Few are fond of him." Kell put his needlework down on the table. "Except Christina, who evidently can't get enough of him. They spend almost every day together."

"How did you and Christina get together, anyway?" It was a question I was curious about.

"We started dating two years ago on her insistence, and got married last year." He did not seem particularly enthusiastic.

"On her insistence?"

"Yes."

"That's not a very long time to date."

"We've known each other for about twenty years. And we had a sort of... off and on thing prior. Who knows if it's early. She's happy."

I had a sudden realization then that Kell, and perhaps a number of other people, were way too open with me. Being in Hell was often full of odd realizations, as there was a somewhat different social setting throughout the city. But this one struck me as especially off.

Kell was a man who clearly had a reputation of authority and respect. He obviously wasn't excited to be talking with me. And yet he was telling me some quite personal things about his marriage. I highly doubted Michael's ails were public knowledge either.

Did I just have a trustworthy face or something?

I was quieted by this unsettling concept of stranger's trusting me. Kell did not make comment.

I sat back in my chair and looked about. Micky was chatting with Glenn very enthusiastically, and by his body language, I'd say very masculinely. Most likely trying to regain his sense of manhood after I had questioned his sexuality. Micky was a great guy, but there was always the feeling present that he used to be a high school football star, and he used to, probably, be homophobic.

Moll, a homely, sweater-bound young woman, seemed to have brought an entire book series with her. I asked to borrow one of them, and eventually settled to sit by her feet for the rest of the afternoon as people came and went.

It was a nice, if not extraordinarily silly, book series.

I was really just killing time anyway. A technique which eventually came to fruition when someone in black ran into the room and ushered us all downstairs.