Chapter 6 - Tea Time!

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You glanced skeptically at the huge brick building in front of you. It was, as the card read, 12 Red Seance Road. Three days after you and The Radio Demons encounter, a black card with red cursive inscription was on your bed.

You were a little creeped out because in order for him to get you the card, he'd have to know where you'd lived as well as having to enter your apartment.

Pulling down your black silky hood, you slipped the card into your pocket and gave the oak door a rhythmic knock.
After a moment or two, the doorknob was jiggling and the door was opened to reveal your host.

He grinned slyly and stepped aside, allowing you to step cautiously inside. Your heels clicked on the hard-wood polished floor as you took off your hood and made for the coat rack.

"Good evening madame." A smooth voice echoed through the grandeur that was his house. You smiled politely, nodding in acknowledgment.

"Bon soir."

"Are you french?"

You shook your head while still inspecting the room. "I just know a few terms, and I just so happen to like the language."

"Ah. French, the language of love." He cocked an eyebrow while plucking a rose from a nearby vase and handing it to you.

Scoffing at his...hospitality...you delicately took it in your own gloved hand, brushing the smooth petals with your fingers.
Handing it back to him, he looked a bit taken aback at your refusal of his gift.

"I'm not one for roses, sorry." You informed him. To be honest, you quite liked the flower. It was a bitch to grow and maintain but it was pretty none the less.

You just didn't particularly trust him, either it was a trap and had sleeping powder in it, or it was just a flower. You decided to play it safe, even if you could hold your own. You were in his domain, his territory.

"Anyways, follow me for your tea!" He regained his composure and beckoned for you to go with him.You did as told, leisurely strolling through the hallway and marveling at the decor.

Almost everything was either a shade of red or black, with a few different colored accents here and there.

"You really love red, don't you?" You struck up conversation, walking as his ear twitched at the sound of your voice.
"But of course! What could be more beautiful than the color that keeps us running, fuels us and circulates within our bodies! It's simply marvelous, I'm afraid," he trailed off, dragging his pointy fingers along the wall.

You cringed inwardly, of course he was talking about blood. The man was a homicidal maniac who caused mass panic and murdered more than 200 demons in less than an hour.

"And red even acclimates to your abilities, my dear. You control the very blood pumping through people's veins. You must be a fan of the color as well, no?" He inquired, lsanding you to a room with high ceilings, few windows, and one table for two in the middle.

"Easy mistake. I don't control blood, I control the nerves in people's bodies. The sensory receptors that transmit signals to the brain," you paused, leaving the sentence unfinished.

"The pain receptors? You control if somebody can feel pain or not." His grain curled into a devilish beam with jagged teeth, "and the intensity of it."

"I'm concerned with your fascination on the subject, but yes, basically."

You took a seat where your name card was and inspected the porcelain china in front of you. It was a polished white with blue swirls at the top, a design surprising for the amount of red surrounding you.

"I suppose Mistress of Blood isn't your favorite nickname?" He chuckled darkly. You rolled your eyes and tapped the teacup rhythmically, a habit. "It's an incorrect statement, but I'll take what I can get."

"Why such an interest in my...work?" You smirked curiously, he certainly had a lot of questions and comments.

"I'm simply a man with specific tastes, and your abilities, well, they intrigue me greatly." He spoke curtly, handing you a biscuit from the counter.
Sniffing it, you gave your host a suspicious look while inspecting it.

"I'm not one for poison, dear. Far too easy, and far too boring."

He has a point. Poison seems to be less bloody than his usual tactics. Plus if he wanted to kill me he would've tried already.

Making up your mind, you dressed it as you liked and began to nibble on it.

To be honest, the food was 1/2 the reason you even came. Free food? Yes please! And he certainly didn't disappoint, the bread was golden and fresh, nothing like the trash food you'd been eating for forever.

"This is delicious, I thought Hell didn't have this good of food?" You questioned, glancing at The Radio Demon. He looked distantly out the window and tsked as if abused by your statement.

"As one of Hells most malevolent beings, I am given...privileges." He turned his head back to you and picked up the biscuit, inspecting it then looking back at you with a hand on his chin, "keep up the whole Mistress thing and Lucifer might just consider you as a viable candidate for Hells tormentors."

You hated to admit it, even to yourself, but his words felt like praise and made you blush. You growled inwardly, refusing to again, see him as anything but a...coworker, of sorts.
You pretended to be disinterested in the idea he'd just presented, and checked out your gloves, rubbing the rim of your teacup with a finger.

"I suppose that sounded ideal. I'm sure you know that living in a hotel is no place for someone with my capabilities," you pointed out.

"Yes, I'll put in a good word of you if you'd like."

Eyes widening and flashing him a smile, you contained your excitement at the prospect of getting out of the shit hotel room you lived in.
Before you could stop yourself, you breathed a star-struck "really?"

The Radio Demon quirked an eyebrow at you, bemusedly swirling his tea with a small silver spoon. You scratched the back of your neck and gave him a cheeky smile. "My living situation is terrible at the moment, the change would be welcome!" You tried to defend yourself.

"I'll see what I can do."

...
AlrIGHT lOOK I'm sorry for dying on you all, and for not editing this chapter. I just finished binging Stranger things three and it's four AM. Gimme a break, K?
Also, ending a chapter properly? I don't know how. Still shook for ST3. Hopper.
(1087 words)

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