Persephone hadn't been afraid of anything for a long time. Ever? She thought it quite possibly that she hadn't been afraid of anything Ever, yet she was feeling the strangest tingle working its way up and down her spine. She promptly ignored it, shunning it like the nothing that it was. It did give her a reason to pause and think. Why would she be afraid even in a minimal way unless something was making her be? A pint-sized version of something, oh that'd be new. Vices and Sins had to start out as children after all. She'd been one quite a long time ago. Had she found herself a miniature Demon of Fear amidst the ruins and the dead? "Why won't you listen to me? I know you can see me!" It was the dead man again. The one who thought that Persephone had it in her to ever care. She flipped him the bird and made a shooing motion, far more interested in the little one.
"Blow outta here, dead man, I'm talking to the little one." Ignoring the ghost, wasn't like he could do a damn thing now he was dead, Persephone crouched down to get herself more on the level with the girl. Her sunglasses got taken off and everything so she could get a better look at the little darling. Persephone hadn't ever been a big fan of kids. Anyone doubted that they could just take a look at how close she hadn't ever been with her son or the offspring he shot out. Just getting to know them now that they were all growed up and Delta was knocking on Hell's door. "Yeah this place has gotta beat out their excuse of a museum unless it's dedicated to music. Get to one of those you check it out and look at all the old pics, see if you can find the demons who played it out. Nothing better." Persephone loved it so much, not because she was a part of it, but because it'd piss them off so much if they learned how much hadn't been just their idea. Stupid mortals, like they'd have any thoughts worth while. "Briony then, not a bad name. Give it to yourself?" Persephone really couldn't remember what her parents had tried naming her. Probably sucked. "I'm Persephone. I'd give you my last name and quiz you on how much you know about the best kind of music - it's jazz in case you didn't know, that's a bit of education for you - but I'm betting you'd rather know what I am." Reaching into her purse she fumbled around for a minute before her fingers closed over a half-crushed package and a smooth lighter. One cigarette came out, was lit and placed at her lips. A puff and she pulled it away, having never thought that it'd bother the little girl. "I'm Excess, baby girl, and unless I'm just allergic to the air you're a little Fear. Actually little or did you grow all up and never lose your baby teeth?" That'd suck so hardcore.