Azriel let out a tired sigh and raked a hand through his hair, seeming—suddenly—more relaxed, which only made Jasmine tenser.
'What is wrong with him…?'
In a blur, Azriel moved behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder as he sighed again.
'Fast… I never thought he could get this fast. I could barely follow him with my eyes…'
"See, this is the kind of bullshit I have to deal with every time," Azriel murmured into her ear, taking on the loose, resigned air of someone who'd accepted everything.
'Seriously, what is wrong with him?'
"I invite a god, and the Devil shows up instead."
"…The very fact you were trying to invite a god is already absurd on its own," Jasmine muttered back, eyes fixed on Lucifer, her tone edged with displeasure.
'Is he a girl? He has more mood swings than most girls I know…'
"So, are you here to confirm whether I'm really the Son of Death?" Azriel asked, still leaning his chin on Jasmine's shoulder, using her as a prop.
