Snippet #2547340

Damien watched as the angel walked away after his rather dull spiel, melting into the crowd that swirled around him. "What a dick" he said, not having any care for whoever heard him say it. The angels little speech certainly gave off an air of confidence, but Damien didn't fall for any of it. He was clearly threatened by the presence of a demon. Perhaps even jealous? All Damien cared about is that he had ruffled the feathers of the pompous little prick. He could feed off of that fun alone. There were few things in the world more enjoyable than getting under the skin of an angel.

Unfortunately though, the angel had managed to put an end to his evening. Going to another drinking hole and continuing the night didn't seem as exciting without the thought of an attractive bartender to pass the time. He could visualise her face, her blonde hair bobbing up and down as she smiled with rosy red cheeks. And her eyes, damn you could get lost in them. Damien shook his head and snapped out of it. Certain he must of looked like a right old eejit standing in the middle of a busy casino staring into the distance. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his wallet and unfolded it. Selecting a few of the crisp green notes to pull out and place on the bar.

Navigating his way through the swarm of people he managed to break out and reach the door. As it opened he was blasted by a wall of the cool night time air. He hadn't realised how warm it was inside. How on earth anyone could work in there for more than a few hours puzzled him. Maybe they just learned to block it out. The cooler temperatures were much more his style. He was used to the Irish climate. The kind of place where a double digit temperature in Celsius was considered a warm day. Yet he came all the way to the middle of a desert. His own logic sometimes puzzled him. As a demon though it was easy to put things down to fate. He was just a pawn in a bigger game. It didn't bother him though, because the game was fun.

He found himself walking aimlessly down the street. Traffic whizzed by and all the lights of the Vegas strip dazzled with a blinding intensity. It sure was a one of a kind place. He'd never seen anything like it that's for sure. Granted most of his travels had him in Europe up until now. Still, it was quite a site.

He pulled out the pack of cigarettes that had spent the evening squashed in his pants pocket. Flipping open the lid with his thumb he selected one and pulled it out of the cardboard box. He pushed the box back into his pocket and replaced it with a lighter. An old bronze lighter that he got almost 100 years ago from World War I. Picked it up off of some poor French guy who certainly wouldn't have needed it anymore anyway. He fiddled with it between his fingers for a bit and eventually brought it up to the cigarette that was now protruding from his lips. Using his hand as a shield against the wind he flicked the flint of the lighter and held the flame under the tip of the cigarette. A quick puff and he was away. The end of the cigarette glowing a soft orange as he put the lighter away.

The smell of burning tobacco filled the air around him. Therapeutic he claimed. It's not as if it could kill him anyway so why not? It certainly took away some of the tension as he blocked out the sounds of the busy street. So, Jettie was his new ward. It was certainly going to be an interesting story. Tempt her down the path of sin? He was certain he could do that anyway. He'd already made headway before the bloody angel barged in. Her guardian of course, he knew now anyway that he was in the picture. Shrugging his shoulders he looked once more on to the busy road, back to the street and leaning against a lamppost. He might as well finish his cigarette before hailing a taxi. Take in some more of the desert air before heading home.