there's a reason these tables are numbered, honey, & it's you Who: Lex & Salvatrix Where: Ad Gustum When: Night
“If you didn’t want for me to pay you any attention, angel, you really ought not try to pull my earrings.” Salvatrix’s voice rang out in a tone that was so uncharacteristically reasonable there were some who may have considered it disturbing. Especially since it was immediately followed by the young woman in question miraculously thrown bodily down the corridor without the demon ever touching her. Usually she would not have been so crass as to unleash a telekinetic temper on someone else’s dungeon investment, but this particular contract had just run out. Quite literally, about ten minutes ago. And Salvatrix really did not care enough to check whether the former ‘master’ wished to renew. In fact, right at this very moment, she was of the opinion the girl could lay there on the floor, whimpering about her blessed broken arm until the Second Com-- ‘There’s a vamper in your office.’
After giving her familiar a dark look for pausing in his stalking of newly released prey to give that warning, the Advocate ignored the ever-growing desperation from the girl to glare at her office door. It was an unremarkable thing differentiated from any of the other doors on this level only by the presence of her job title. Slave Manager. It was not an office most would have the nerve to invade -- not if they knew who that Manager was. Or what, for that matter. Then again, Ad Gustum attracted a special breed of creature, regardless of race. Especially in the dungeons. The moment she opened the door the mental tick of a demon-killer that greeted her made her want to unhinge the wretched fixture. Instead, she pushed it back into place, glancing at Lex long enough to confirm that it was indeed him and that he most definitely had his boots up on her furniture.
Her tail swung lazily under her skirt, nearly scraping the floor as she reached over her desk for a copy of that girl’s contract. The one that was now completely null and void. Also potentially beyond redeeming should her owner turn up again. “Are you deliberately trying to annoy, Lex, or do you take delight in ruining upholstery?” One painted talon waved at his feet, then gestured for him to put them down. “Don’t tell me you’re actually missing the beloved madames.” She wasn’t, and she was their great grandmother.