Dulce had grown accustomed to the Demons' constant presence around him, Kath'tan looking for him didn't necessarily mean that the Fiend needed something.
He went right to his room, undoing his cravat and taking off his coat, there was no reason to be so stiffly dressed in the quiet of his home. He turned around to see Kath'tan lingering at the door, there was an odd look in the Demon's purple eyes.
"Is something the matter?" He asked quietly, contemplating whether he wanted to take off his waistcoat. It was a cool day but not cold enough to light the hearth.
Kath'tan swallowed, his gaze riveted on Dulce's neck. The bruises had faded lightly, no longer as vibrantly red, but they still looked unsightly. He wanted the blemish gone, he wanted a clean slate so he could try again.
"Your neck…" He muttered, the only thing he managed to say.
