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It took Malthazor a while to get the hair right. And the shirt. There are a lot of kitschy shirts out there, but he felt he had to have the right one. One that screamed Mr. Madej’s name.
This little red number with the tiny, old school weightlifting men on it seems the most appropriate…although he’d had to traverse through one of the mortal world’s versions of Hell to get it. A retail store.
Ugh. Gross. Why are humans always trying to emulate his home? To be fair, Mal kinda gets it - after all, there’s no place like home. But humans! Their world has a plethora of atrocities - most of their own making - and they have the audacity to mutter under their breaths about how Hell is the bad place.
Well, Hell is nothing compared to a busy shopping center on a Saturday night! Mal knows that for sure! Traffic alone was…
His laptop starts trilling and he beams, recognizing that Ryan (Mr. Bergara! Be a professional demon, for fuck’s sake!) is calling him to Face Time. This is it! He’s sure this plan will work!
He clicks the little icon to connect to his new boss. Ryan looks like shit. The bags under his eyes are enormous and he’s clearly…haggard. It’s a shame to see and Mal frowns, “Hey, hey - there’s my guy! How’s it going in Chicago?”
“No luck,” Ryan grumbles, rubbing at his eyes and sounding exhausted, “Thought for sure he’d make a stop here-what the hell is that?”
The words run so close together it takes the demon a minute to parse them out. When he does, his head rears back some, “What’s what?”
“You know what,” Ryan waves a finger at the screen, “The get up.”
“The-?” Mal looks down oh-so-innocently, but Ryan’s not fooled for a second, letting out a heavy sigh, “You’re dressed exactly like Shane, Mal.”
“O-oh? Am I?”
“You’ve even got his stupid cowlick,” Ryan grumbles, “What’re you up to?”
“Nothing.”
“Mal…”
“Boss, swear to god, hand to heaven, I’m not-!”
“You’re a demon, Mal,” Ryan huffs, “Those oaths are kinda empty.”
Malthazor’s lips screw up to one side, eyes going squinty, “Would you believe a costume contest?”
“Mal,” The way he says the name brokers no argument, the demon caves, “Okay, so, see - I had this idea…”
“Did you?”
“Yeah, see, the thing is - I know that humans are, y’know, sorta always looking for like, replacements…”
“Wow,” Ryan breathes, eyes widening enough to make him look more awake, “That’s insulting…”
‘”But true!” Mal interjects firmly, “I mean - marriage, divorce, marriage, divorce. Boyfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend, boyfriend. Cat, cat, dog. Baby, baby…”
“Are-are you trying to say people have more than one kid to replace the previous ones?” Ryan sounds completely floored by this but Mal has no idea why. It’s accurate (from what he’s observed of human culture) so he presses on, “My point is, you won’t take my advisement. So I thought, uh, maybe I could just - slip into the empty slot of best friend?”
The look he gets is not encouraging. Still, “I mean, I’m a demon - he’s a demon. I can-I can wear these shirts…say weird, old timey things like-like ‘scamper’ and ‘champ’ and ‘hold on to your marbles’!”
“Hold on to my-?”
“It means-!” Mal starts excitedly but Ryan cuts him off, “Dude, I know what it means! And NO. You cannot just ‘replace’ Shane.”
Oh…shit. He’s…mad? Mal frowns, “Why not?”
“Jesus,” Ryan moans, “You really are a demon, aren’t you?”
And this - much to Malthazor’s surprise - is the first time he’s ever felt bad about that. He feels a little bereft (a feeling he’s highly unfamiliar and uncomfortable with) as he mutters, “I…thought it might help.”
“It doesn’t!” Ryan snaps and something in the way he says it, it just…it makes Mal feel worse. And then he catches Ryan’s face soften, hears his words get softer, kinder, “Look, Mal…Shane can’t be replaced. He’s…he’s my best friend.”
The way Ryan says ‘best friend’ feels very much like he’s saying something else.
“And I’m going to get him back.”
“…yeah,” Mal returns softly, avoiding looking at the screen, “I know.”
“You’re…you’re not replacable either, Malthazor.”
This catches the demon by surprise and he looks at the screen to see Ryan giving him a tiny smile, “You’re, ah, one of a kind, man. You shouldn’t…shouldn’t try to be someone you’re not.”
Malthazor twists about in his chair, eyeing the laptop thoughtfully, “Really?”
“Yeah. And, um, you’ve-you’ve been a big help. I-I don’t think I could do this without you.”
The surge of pleasure Mal feels at that makes his cheeks do something strange. Is-? Is he blushing? Is this what blushing is? He just waves a hand at the screen, “Yeah, yeah. Okay. E-enough with the mushy stuff.”
Ryan gives him a smile, “So - Chicago was a bust? Any other ideas?”
Mal sits up, files and folders in front of him full of potential targets, “I got a few…”