"What brings an angel to a demon's living room? Curious to see where I hide my pitchfork?" The woman visibly displays her nerves, her naturally glowing presence already giving me a headache as she shuffles in front of me, glancing anxiously from the floor to my sharp eyes. "N-No, I am actually here on a mission," Sera nods to herself, forcing her demeanor to look confident. "I need a favor from you." The moment those words leave her mouth, I groan to her dismay, cringing and pinching the bridge of my nose. "This ought to be good." When silence follows, I open my eyes to find her standing there, seemingly waiting for me. "Go on, then! What is it?" "S-Sorry, I didn't want to interrupt if you were to continue," she keeps up her polite bullshit, her similar accent making it worse, and I think about all the reasons I despise angels. "Harry," Sera meets my eyes firmly as I sit up and grab my glass of bourbon. "I am here to convert you to an angel. If you'd be so kind as to comply-" "Convert me?" I sneer, "Has the altitude up there in 'La La Land' gotten to your head?" "Heaven is on a shortage of people-" "Shocker..." I hum with an eye roll, taking a drink. Her small hands bottle up into fists, her prominent eyebrows narrowed. The vein in my forehead pokes out when I feel my hold on my glass loosen, my lips parting, astounded, while Sera levitates the drink and slams it down on the table. "I'll be here as long as it takes to get you to convert, whether you like it or not! I won't let you wrongfully send the innocent to your eternal torture any longer!" The angel huffs. Deciding that two can play at this game, I transport myself in the blink of an eye behind her. Sera quietly gasps when I disappear from her view, yelping when she feels my breath on her neck and turns around, our faces now merely centimeters apart. "Then I'm afraid you're gonna be here awhile."