Who: Snark twins ahoy! and later, Astaroth. What: Just another day in the shop, or is it? Where: the book store, as usual. When: Morning-ish. Warnings: Oh, the usual antiquated obscenities.
For what it was worth, Mephisto hadn't had a boring day as a human. Quiet ones, yes, and certainly there were lulls between things to fascinate him, but just as soon as he thought he'd got the hang of things, his body threw him a curveball, and sent him reeling into fascination and bafflement once more.
Today, it seemed, would be one of those days. He woke up and promptly realized that he felt drained of all life, of all energy and desire, and that his digestive system was completely out of sorts. Which was why, when he walked into the shop, he was even more pallid than usual, and he didn't seem to carry himself with the same amount of grandeur and regal posturing that he generally did. He did, however, have his second journal with him, and a smile on his face as he walked in, quickly silencing the bell above the door with a swift movement of his hand thrusting up to lightly hold the bell as he closed the door behind him.
"I believe I'm ill," stated the fallen angel, matter-of-fact, and possibly more smugly than one would usually say it. It was as if the cat had caught a bird and was boasting about it.