Private Finished why can't i be rid of you

Tucker, for the life of him, couldn't fathom what on earth he was doing at a place like this. Not that he had problems about night clubs (not even strip clubs). Oh, no; he wouldn't have problems at all, but having to be aware who owned this place make his skin crawl just by standing within the area.

Oh sure, he said he would never talk to that devil anymore (damn him), but if Mikhainon found it funny to send him an incomplete grimoire as some sort of parting gift then he was going to give him a piece of his mind.

Tucker had ignored that book for weeks on end, stowing it away from his sight and willing himself to forget about it so he could focus on more important things. But oh, his curiosity always led him back to it, keeping him from focusing on anything else but the damn book and what lay in the missing pages. If Mikhainon had sent him that to do exactly this then obviously the devil wasn't done with him yet. 'Not going to bother or talk to you anymore.' his arse.

So here he was, on the prowl for the devil. It wasn't as if he needed to try too hard just to find him. After all, Tucker was just told that Gabriel Baltimore was expecting him.

@Poppy

Takeru wouldn't let himself feel too comfortable, not when he wasn't in his element. He was playing in enemy territories, he knew, and chose to not let himself step any further. He met his grin with a glower rarely seen from him--at least by anyone who's not Mikhainon who was the only person he was never fond of seeing. He wouldn't truly say he hated him, but he would rather leave a few centuries-old memories untouched for as long as he was alive. Seeing him only brought them back to his attention.

But for now, he was going to set those aside. He didn't take his offer, though he did approach him.

"Really now, Yuki, I'd thought you expected to see me sooner--I might have waited out longer if I'd known," he spoke once they were alone again. There was a drop of sarcasm in his voice and he had to stop himself from rolling his eyes too, reminding him of his place. "Immortality is still doing me quite well, thank you very much. And I had every intention of not speaking with you, but you on the other hand, obviously aren't done yet, are you? The gifts were lovely, by the way; I never did send you a thank you note for that." As if he would.

There was a smirk playing at his lips, though it was one more irritated than anything. "Though really, I robbed you? I could almost say I'm surprised you still hold that against me." Takeru's eyes narrowed at the demon before him, "I figured you'd have had a lot of other clients to let this one pass; it's been centuries, after all."

"Oh please, don't play this game with me right now," Takeru said, with a roll of his eyes. He told himself earlier that he wasn't going to drag this on any further; it was wiser to drop the act. Takeru disliked the feeling of being in his presence; it was unnerving, to say the least, though much more when Mikhainon looked as though he had everything going his way. The things he would give just to have the satisfaction of seeing that smile off his face.

"I know enough manners, but with you, I chose not," he spoke quietly, never raising his voice. His eyes were narrowed cautiously. "I know how you play. I could care less aboout any gift you send if it were any common thing, but you really do know how to spite me, don't you? I wouldn't come here for any other reason," he continued.

"Isn't this what you wanted? Torment me, provoke and lure me out?" It was taking a lot for him not to come any closer; to vent out all the anger and frustrations he kept to himself that only drove him mad. He was watching himself, just as he kept his eye on the demon before him.

Takeru's gaze was hard as steel, never letting up even against the grin on Mikhainon's face. "My business with you ended centuries ago. What more do you want?"

Takeru's gaze was sharp and cold when it met with Mikhainon, not willing to falter in front of the demon despite himself. He wasn't wrong; Takeru could get any artifact he wanted — that's how it's been for centuries, but he would firmly deny ever wanting Mikhainon any longer in his sights, along with everything he accused him of. He couldn't fully hide how Mikhainon's words seem to strike a chord in him as his jaw set. His teeth clenched with indignation though he refused to back down.

With a tight grip, Takeru forcefully wrenched Mikhainon's arm away, never tearing his steely gaze from him. "Six centuries of erasing you from my life, only to end up back into your claws? You must be joking. I'll do myself a favor by ending myself first." A sardonic smile crept to his features when he spoke. The look quickly faded just as it appeared, replaced by something more calculating.

He knew it's been Mikhainon's magic keeping him alive for this long and as much as he denied, he was a little more than obsessed with Yuki but Takeru swore he didn't want anything more to do with Mikhainon. Takeru's grip on his arm tightened, almost twisting it. "I know well enough you're impossible to get rid of," he scoffed, "but what makes you think I would agree to that arrangement?"

For just a split second, the cold, unfeeling mask Takeru wore broke from hearing the familiar voice. The momentary shock almost had him release his grip and take a step back. Only 'almost' though. Just as the crack appeared, he covered it all back up, though it was already too late by then. After that one, he was already anticipating Mikhainon's next move; at the back of his mind, he already saw the end of this discussion.

He was long past this, he told himself; he wasn't going to fall for it if Mikhainon ever pulled this trick on him. He was expecting this, and he'd convinced himself he was up for it. But theory and practice didn't always match perfectly, and having to actually listen to him sound any way like Yuki was so much more halting than theory. Looking at Mikhainon felt all wrong, yet the haunting look in his eyes didn't fail to catch him off guard. Takeru was speechless, frozen by the sight for a moment. He never released his hold, but it wasn't firm anymore. Mikhainon could have broken free if he decided to but surely that wasn't even necessary now.

Not a single thing of what Mikhainon said, he could really prove wrong. Though maybe he could say to disgree with one thing: his life's work is his pride. Takeru long acknowledged that Mikhainon had literally everything he sought for, but he refused to be part of it after he'd cheated him out of their deal, not wanting to stay long enough for the consequences. It was going to catch up to him at some point; but this was much sooner than he anticipated.

Takeru stared back at Mikhainon with narrowed eyes, teeth still clenched as his fury faded from him. He hissed through his teeth, trying to maintain what was left of his crumbling composure. "I despise your sick games," he breathed out. Takeru stepped into Gomorrah expecting one of two outcomes. Much as I loathe to admit defeat. "You've won."