♠ SECOND || ➥ VIDEO
[The feed opens up and there's a flickering light-bulb; one that shudders and sparks under some bad wiring only to hum out to a low simmer. For the briefest of seconds, it ignites that room in question: there's a nightstand, a few other odds and ends, but plenty of darkness to coat the feed back to black.]
[It's only when a match is ignited that the newly-familiar smile lights up. Illuminated in all of the flavors hell has to offer; reds and oranges spark at the tip and the Sin grips the end of a cigarette in his jaws. Threatens to grind the butt to dust, but doesn't.]
Well - [He speaks, voice the usually hum of a purr - the every-present dripping of blatant desire.] - that was interesting.
[He waves the thought away with the smoothness of a criminal, with the casual air that speaks of his core. That rotten sort of pit that's already pushing and pulling deep below the surface.] Never was very interested in that sort of thing.
[As Greed speaks, he lurches forward. Bends with a snap-jerk of his spine as both feet grind into the floor. The cigarette is plucked from the corner of his mouth and shoved into a tray nearby. Ground out so the last of the embers sputter off into the small collection.] So now that there's a pause - [Shades sink into that impenetrable black, but the Sin's smile grows. Expands and shows off a jagged set of razors. Like an angler fish beckoning in the watery depths: "Come and see."]
[But while the man in question moves with that devilish flow, he lightly taps the side of his skull in a playful sort of gesture. Two-fingers seared together to knock against his temple.] Didn't expect it when I got here, but The Devil's Nest is available to any of you that could use a drink. [Eyes back to the feed and there's the briefest cut of red light behind those round shades; could be a trick from the faulty wiring, could be something else entirely.]
[But the Sin speaks nothing about it. Instead, he shoots those two fingers off from his skull, snaps in the direction of the recording.] Considering the week we've had, I may be inclined to do you the favor. [Because no - nothing in this world or the next is free.]
Tell me your story and if it's good enough, I'll see what I can do. [Another pair of hands reaches out from behind; painted, delicate. Ivory in color with a brandished wash of make-up. Nails sharpened and painted in a red used for a particular trade. An age-old tradition.]
[Greed's lips screw shut, curve at the corners to make arrows of the skin. The woman behind him is a petite blonde; hair forced into heavy curls and she gently slides one of her hands into the feed to pass along a healthy portion of scotch on the rocks.] Ah - right. Almost forgot -
[Scotch in one hand, the homunculus reaches for his collarbone. Sinks in his fingers there and hums:] - the name's Greed. Consider this a one time offer.