His grip tightened once more and he slammed Robert back against the wall. “Why do you insist on being so stubborn and insubordinate? Do you have a death wish? Are you trying to provoke me? I don’t like killing demons, you know. It’s a waste. But you’re no good to me if you can’t follow orders.”
He was at the point where he wasn’t entirely sure he cared anymore. He would have said something else, pushed his luck further, but the hand at his throat made it difficult to do more than growl at him.
Still need to figure out an older fc for Salem, still need to add Anya to the muses page, still need to do some drabbles and headcanon work for the pups.
“I hear that many people still make the inquires, wondering where their parents ended up,” he answered. The follow-up drew a lazy shrug. “I hardly expected you to continue the job if you learned the truth.” There were other demons who could do the work, but still his gaze hardened at Robert. “But make no mistake, if I wanted to, I could send you back there. Do not forget where you fall on the supernatural food chain, Robert. An order is an order and there would be consequences for disobeying one.”
“You could try,” he spat. He had felt the magic all over that place, noticed the wards and sigils and he had no doubt that his mother would find a way to keep him off the property if she really wanted to. He wasn’t really surprised that people were underestimating her abilities with magic, he vaguely remembered what she could do with just the touch of her hand, but he wasn’t about to say any of that.
He was partly agreeing just to hopefully move off the subject, Quinn clearly starting to reach the absolute limits of his boundaries, especially after somehow ending up talking about his dad, the youngest pups and then his siblings despite having wanted to avoid all of those things.
Maybe it was because Anya smelled enough like his dad to let something subconscious allow his guard to drop slightly, but he was frantically mentally rebuilding walls now he’d realised he was feeling way beyond his depth again.
One of the advantages to growing up in a pack was learning subtle cues in body language and Anya was good at making it look natural when she pulled away and made her way to the fridge.
“You go on and eat, kiddo. I’m gonna get something for your dad to munch on so he doesn’t try to cook for himself because that’s a mess I don’t want to clean up.”
“You have a real fucked up sense of fun,” he answered, wanting to retreat but having nothing except a wall behind him. “Or maybe I’d see alcohol poisoning and death,” he answered flatly. He wasn’t usually so callous about those things, but she was pushing him beyond his limits of patience.
“Sweetie, I’m fucked up,” she countered, more laughter trailing the words despite how awfully true they were. She would have probably been more willing to leave him alone had Kit not told her to stay away from him. It put a spiteful edge on her actions and she let her lips ghost over his once more.
ofviolentdeath 