Frankly, You're Terrible

It was evening, so of course Frank was dragging Sharpe along on yet another trip between bars. Having been kicked out for nearly getting into a fight.

It was only because he unintentionally brought a sword to a fistfight that he wasnt stumbling around with a broken nose instead of an annoyed imp floating but him extolling the virtues of not being a drunk buffoon.

"I shoulda let them beat the snot outta you. Then maybe you'd let me get you cleaned up some. Get rid of that 'wet dog strained through dirty gym socks' aura you got there," Sharpe finished. It was harsh and biting, but well deserved criticism.

Frank in turn poured the rest of the bottle he'd been hiding in a brown bag right onto Sharpe and then slapped his big dumb hand on top of the imp's head to muss up their hair. Frank then slurred something about them being a pair now.

Bright green fury flashed in Sharpe's ragged eyes but they quickly turned their horns soft and flexible so Frank wouldnt impale his hand. As satisfying as that would've been it might have been a little against against their pact to do.

Sharpe fumed and floated off, nearly as far away from their infuriating human ball and chain as they could go. Which brought them out to a main road by a few of the more popular shops in the area. Sharpe paused to wring out their hood a little so it would stop dripping beer as they floated around.

@Kait

Sharpe rotated in the air to face the approaching teen and shrugged as they tucked their horns back through the peak of the no longer dripping hood.

"Oh this? Clearly I mistook a keg tap for a showerhead," they quipped sarcastically and lowered some as Maddie came close.

"I'll be fine- this is a normal night for Frank. Sucks to be the asshole that'll wake up covered in shredded pillow tomorrow though." The malicious glow in their eyes made it quite clear that Sharpe was plotting revenge. Ultimately harmless, but oh so satisfyingly annoying revenge.

Sharpe considered the offer. Technically they'd already discussed this kind of thing before and had agreed to it. Was this the right time though?

They shifted slightly and felt the dampness of their cloak and sniffed at the all-too-familiar scent of spilled beer. Oh yeah, Frank needed to suffer. Or at least be really annoyed. Sharpe didn't want him to actually get hurt. The bond of the wielder and wielded kinda thing.

"Ok squirt. Pretty sure he's still stumbling through alleys on the way to Marty's. Best way to get to him is ruin his quest for booze. Or ruin his booze itself if that doesn't work." Sharpe tapped their claws together in delight as they began to plot.

Sharpe ran the edges of their claws against eachother with an accompanying unpleasant grating sound. "This should be amusing. But don't mess with the summoning. We do have an agreement with him, however annoying it might be." A deal was a deal- that was what had put Sharpe in this position in the first place.

They drifted along next to Maddie as they headed to intercept Frank. There was little doubt they'd get to him before he finished his stumbling meander between bars.

"Tell me, how often do you mess with people like this? Sounds like you have just the right skills and the right brain for the job, little one." Sharpe liked leaning into the small-jokes if someone seemed keen to point out how they weren't very big. It made things hilariously ironic to have an imp deliberately call someone else small. Especially since although Maddie was young, she was significantly taller than Sharpe.

"Hey, you don't have to explain the blood thing. You're chattin' with a bonafide imp-sword forged in the fury and jealousy of wrath and envy hells kiddo. I get it. I can feel it in my not-so-polished blade." Sharpe indeed knew the feeling. Even with a decent wielder they would be a little ornery, though not nearly so bad as with the Asshole known as Frank.

"But with your plan and my keen insight and razor-sharpe wit we can make the drunken dick wander around for hours as dry as a box of cornflakes in the desert," they added with another gleam of delight radiating from their eyes. Truth be told Sharpe had been owned by plenty of terrible wielders. Not all demons or other powerful folk really gave much thought to how they cared for their weapons.

"Based on his slow ass walking and shitty sense of direction I bet he'll be in one of these next couple alleyways. Maybe we'll get lucky and he's tripped over some garbage and re-joined his people."