Jeremiah & Janis
The demon hadn't been doing much work lately. With the appearance of Lucifer, there wasn't technically a quota they had to meet to avoid getting demoted to below stairs. It was like having the boss' boss' boss living in your garage. The requirements of the job were still there, but nobody was going to say boo if you didn't meet 'em.
But they had to do something with the hours. Lucifer's presence met they were reluctant to leave town, even if Atticus was busy drinking himself sick on the other end of town and Janus would have preferred to be on the other side of the planet. So there was still a late-night bus that left for the capital six days a week, most days with one of several drivers that were each Janus with a different face: the hungover inventor, the pretty blonde, the sharp-boned crossword enthusiast, etc. Today, they wore the blonde, a sort of catch-all that most people liked, and that made them feel more secure than any of the others.
She (today) was actually curious about the house. She wasn't sure she believed all that stuff about being a movie writer, since that was the kind of thing men said in bars and on the internet to impress other people, but it didn't matter. Janus was a liar among liars, and didn't take that kind of thing personally. A look at the house and the occupant was worth her time, and if it led to something for the quota, then all to the better. Janus wasn't feeling too charitable toward humanity, more of a pitiless bitterness that came out of a relationship that was no such thing.
Painted lips smiled as Jeremiah opened the door. She was pleasantly surprised at his appearance, finding him a brand of coffeeshop attractive that probably got him through a lot of doors in this world. Her eyes flicked to the cigarette and then up, her expression becoming thoughtful, and she shifted her weight on white tennis shoes. Her own appearance was early spring as well, bright green with white stripes and fitted blue jeans with rips in the knees. The outfit was younger than the woman's apparent age, and she wore it with an utter lack of concern. "Neither, just yet. You're prettier than most mobsters, that's all." White grin.