Page 17 of Hellfire & Bowties
“Pinkie.”
Luc snorted, his mouth curling up at the corners as his eyes ran over Oren. He shook his head and met Oren’s gaze again. “Just… try to avoid them.”
Oren pouted a little.
Luc rolled his eyes in response. “You ready to go?”
Oren brightened. “Absolutely!”
Like Luc had told Zorun, he didn’t take Oren to the deeper levels of Hell. He wanted to keep it ‘light.’ So there was only mild horrific screaming echoing through the hallways, the rivers of blood were only ankle deep, and the fires were a mellow inferno.
Oren took it all in with morbid fascination, wishing he had a pen and pad to jot things down.
The whole system needed an overhaul. He could see how the torturing could be streamlined for quicker turnover. He asked a million questions, and Luc stared at him strangely but answered them all.
When Beasty started to get cranky they decided to call a halt. There were only so many times he could tell him, ‘no, you’re not allowed to eat the sinners’ before those puppy-dog eyes got to him.
When they got back to Luc’s room, there was a huge multicolored pile sitting in the middle of the floor. Oren recognized it immediately and unclipped Beast hastily to rush over.
“What did he do, empty the bags all over the floor?” Luc grumbled. “And why is there somuch?”
“I asked him for options,” Oren said, joyously sifting through his belongings, not even caring that Zorun hadn’t placed them nicely.
Also, ‘options’ to Zorun seemed to be ‘take everything Oren owns,’ which he wasn’t going to complain about. It wasn’t like he had bequeathed his closet to anyone in his last will and testament.
“How long do you think you’ll be staying here?” Luc asked. “You know they can make you anything you want Upstairs. Paradise comes with amenities.”
“I like my things,” Oren said, hugging his favorite bowtie to his chest.
Luc massaged his temples with his claws, but clearly decided to let it go. Instead, he walked over to his desk where a couple of metal cloches were sitting. “You want some food, hon?”
Oren stretched his neck out to see, wondering what constituted food in Hell.
Something red and pulsing was revealed on the plates.
“I’m good.” Oren gagged slightly, grateful he didn’t actually have to eat. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“Your loss.”
“Can I hang these up?” Oren asked.
Luc nodded, waving a hand absently as he stuffed his face, gripping the pulsating flesh in his fist and ripping into it with his teeth while Beast sniffed and begged around his ankles.
Oren gathered armfuls of his things, making the trek back and forth to the closet. Once he’d moved everything, he hummed to himself, looking for a spot. If he just relocated the leather harnesses…
Time flew by like that, Oren getting into the zone as he redesigned the entirety of the wardrobe. Because once he movedone thing, another thing seemed displaced, and it was just plain rude to leave it like that. Also, Luc didn’t have as much stuff as he did, and leather harnesses didn’t really wrinkle, so they could be… squished. A bit.
“You ever going to come out of there? It’s getting late.” Luc’s voice broke into his mania.
Oren stepped back from color-coordinating his ties and viewed the progress he’d made. The whole closet had been divided down the middle. Well, Oren’s half was a bit bigger. Luc’s side was full of leather and black and chains, and Oren’s had the start of pretty pastels and bowties.
They looked good next to each other, the sight making a blush rise to Oren’s face for some reason.
Oren stepped out to see that the lights in the room had been dimmed, only the flicker of actual fire torches bathing the room in an orange glow. Beast was his own bright spot in the room, napping at Luc’s feet underneath the desk, an empty plate next to his head.
“I finished my paperwork, so I was going to turn in,” Luc said. “I made the sofa up for you already.”
Oren looked that way and smiled shyly. “Thank you.”
