“What are you standing around for?” He asked with laughter. “It’s not like Got came to the Great Judgement! Come on, drink! Drink to my health! He’ll never come here! And as long as there’s me, there’s you. Drink…” He added bitterly.
At last he found that very imp with his eyes and nodded to him, pointing at the door. The last stood up calmly and went out.
While leaving the imp could see, or rather feel, how others were mocking him in a futile attempt to copy his movements. And he also could hear a scream as a mocker caught fire with a power of his thought. He didn’t need any fu
y gestures as the middle-class did. He didn’t need any flamboyant spells like earth magicians did, which could hardly be met recently. No, they didn’t extinct, but lurked danger from those of their kind. However, he sometimes asked potion makers for help – when his soul was hurt and demanded oblivion that human alcohol couldn’t give him. He chose not to advertise this fact so it didn’t irritate his lower-ranked brothers – human or demonic alcohol in large quantities was enough for them. Not that he cared about their opinion, but he wanted peace and avoid being pierced with knives in his back like a hedgehog with needles.
Hardly he walked out the door, an envelope landed on his hands. Another «special assignment» didn’t quicken his blood anymore, as it had before. But he had never received them in writing before.
The chief caught his amazed look and said quietly:
“There are instructions that I can’t say out loud. Not just my ears are everywhere.”
His heart raced, missing the beats from anxiety. And it wasn’t the anticipation of finally escaping from idleness that got his blood pumping, but a strange worry.
“This mission is more important than the previous ones,” Devil clarified in a quiet voice, not accustomed to yelling. That’s why everyone had to listen carefully: he never repeated what was said.
“As always, at its best”, the interlocutor promised dryly, listening to his own i
er feelings.