Demon who is trying to make a little extra on the side. You're not a snitch, are you?
Ron Ronson, the hiring manager for Goode Processing Co., looked from the piece of paper in front of him to this latest applicant, one he was pretty sure was wasting his time. He had a nose for these things. She did not look like office manager material. "Miss Lilith G... Gudit...toshuz?" He stumbled over the last name. A strange last name for a very strange woman. Bloody foreigners and their absurd names.
The lady in red sitting opposite him gifted him with a smile that contained all too many fangs. "It's pronounced Gooditwoshoes." she helpfully corrected before lighting up a cigarette — without using a lighter, Ron noticed. God, he hated magicians, this was a serious company for serious people, not a playground for wastrels. And smoking indoors was against the law! Then she had the further audacity to lie to his face, unable to even do so without hesitating. "It's... French."
Ron had been to France on holiday with the missus a few years ago, and he'd had a dreadful time. Horrible people, the French, but even he knew that their names weren't this ludicrous, and if this woman was French, he'd... he'd... he'd eat her ridiculous hat!
He'd had enough of this little circus act. Time to end it. "I'm sorry, miss Gooditwoshoes, but I don't think you'll be a go—" He blinked, his words failing him as he focused on something that definitely wasn't supposed to be in his office. That was a tail. The woman had a tail?! He reached for the phone. He needed to call security! The police! The newspapers! Someone!
Lilith frowned, and turned to follow the boring human's gaze. Saw the tip of her tail peek out.
Brimstone and pitchforks. Oh well.
She dropped the act, unfurling her full aspect. The office and the hiring manager's terrified face were bathed in the glow of a billion damned and imprisoned souls, all trying to escape from within the rather large, no, impossibly large demoness. Too large to fit inside the room, yet here she was.
Lilith leaned forward. "Look, pal. Do us both a favour. I can type 500 words per minute and I'm used to repeating the most mindnumbingly boring tasks. Every. Single. Day. I just want... some variation. Is that a crime?" Her horns were so very shiny and sharp, as were her claws. "Hire me for the job, and I won't drag you to hell. Fair?"
Ron could only nod, rabbit-quick, not daring to speak. Make any sound at all. This was all a dream. A nightmare. He shouldn't have had that cheese omelette for lunch. He'd fallen asleep, and this was its revenge. Yes, that was it.
"Lovely." Lilith replied. With a snap of her fingers, her veil was restored. "I'm so glad we could come to an arrangement."
