Sinners Are Winners [bxb]

Chapter Six

    I found myself nodding with enthusiasm, "Grant's made me realize that sinning does nothing truly harmful. If anything, it's more harmful to avoid sinning." I explained, thinking over my lessons with him, "Except for murder and whatnot, that's bad."

    The demon clicked his tongue and ran his sharp eyes over me again, "Leave it to Grant to turn an angel over to his lazy habits," his head tilted slightly, "If you are sooo into corruption-- as you say-- why is your soul still so pure?"

    "I usually accidentally counteract it." I admitted, starting to feel a bit more comfortable. I frowned at the weapon he still had trained on me, "Could you please... uh... lower the gun? Just, you know, I think it's been up there for a while and your arm must be tired. It also makes me a little nervous, soo. Yeah."

    The demon glowered, "Ew, don't ask so nicely like that. Tell me."

    I was put off by his response, "Uh..." I stared at his expectant expression and back to the pistol, "Please lower the gun?"

    "Say 'please' one more time and I will shoot you." The demon grunted.

    My lips curled in, "Lower the gun?"

    "Confident, angel!" The demon was starting to look annoyed, "Make me put the gun down."

    I tried to make my face match his toughness, "Put the gun down."

    He didn't look totally convinced, but he finally let his arm drop. He messed with the gun a bit more before sliding it back in his shoe.

    "Thanks," I breathed in relief.

    The demon glowered at me immediately, "Fuck you. Rule one: Stop with the niceness, it's making your soul whiter by the millisecond."

    "Oh, sorry." I muttered, shrinking myself into the couch.

    "Rule Two," he narrowed his eyes, "Stop with the apologies. Bad bitches never apologize."

    I frowned, "Uh-- what's going on right now? Are you just... giving me advice?"

    "You're hopeless, angel. I'm going to help you learn how to sin properly. When I'm done with you, you'll be the winner of sinners-- the baddest of the radest."

    My eyes lit up, "Oh my! Thank you!" I frowned, realizing I didn't know his name, "What do you want me to call you?"

    "I'm Xavion, most of my friends call me Xav." A daring smirk spread over his face, "But, my special mentee can call me Daddy."

    "Because you're going to be like me father-figure?" I guessed, a grin pressed into my cheeks, "I'd be happy to call you that, Daddy. I'm Ishmael." I introduced myself, holding out my hand.

    Daddy grabbed my hand and shook it firmly, looking too amused for a man that just signed up to mentor someone, "It's a deal."

    "I guess it is." I agreed. I frowned as I felt a weird zap in my hand. I yanked it back and yelped in pain. I glanced at my hand and saw a complex, satanic symbol. It looked branded in, yet it glowed a dull red. "What's this?" I asked Daddy, turning my burning hand for him to see.

    He looked at my hand and shrugged, "Meh, nothing to worry about." He waved it off, "Happens all the time. Humans call it the..." he paused and seemed to think of a response, "Uhh... the bippler-boppler effect. It's when, well, the sun hits your hand perfectly and you get to see cool shapes."

    "Oh!" I laughed, feeling a lot less nervous, "I thought I accidentally just sold you my soul!" I breathed out a sigh of relief.

    Daddy laughed along with me, "Wow! That'd be crazy!" He snorted, pulling out a paper. "Hey, Ishmael is a pretty cool name. Would you mind spelling it for me in cursive? Specifically right..." he scanned the paper and turned it towards me, pointing to line with an x at the start, "...there?"