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Blitzo never realized how many lessons he retained from his time with Stolas until he caught himself making the most of his subversive education. The Prince’s bold gestures, his subtle ones, every word and gesture all had a message beyond what he was actually saying or doing. The lifestyle of Nobility promised glamor, wealth, and exclusive comforts to reward someone just for having enough money, regardless of how they got it. Wealth didn’t care who you were or where you came from; when you had it: you were part of the elite. What the mansions, fancy cars, and fancier food didn’t advertise was that every single thing you did was either an attacking motion or a defending one. Every conversation you would ever have was a conflict where there would be a winner and a loser. Everything could be used as an opportunity to assert dominance; and every opportunity missed was a gift for your opponent and anyone who loved to see you weak.
Even something as mundane as having dinner with family was a battle on some level. Tonight was no exception. It pained Blitzo to silently admit that Stolas’ invitations of share in the decadence of fine dining gave him an edge in the biggest fight of his life. He imagined that if the perpetually horny bird was there, he would be insufferably smug about the Imp’s performance; like a proud teacher watching their star pupil succeed beyond expectation, who you then planned on fucking later and calling it extra credit. For the first time, he acknowledged that Stolas was very dangerous despite carrying himself like a hopeless, lovesick submissive whose every waking moment was spent trying to win approval. If anything, the Goetia’s instincts for danger and conflict might even be above his own abilities. Some Mortal man long dead once said that one should appear weak when actually strong and to appear strong when actually weak. Perhaps Stolas was secretly a master of what some Mortals affectionately called ‘The Art Of War’.
Blitzo turned his attention to the task at hand: establishing dominance during supper. The table was round, and therefore without a section that could visibly accent power. There was no advantage to be had from being at the presumed head of the table; the other two seated with him owed him no bonus recognition. The easiest and most overt way of declaring authority without having to really do anything was not an option; leaving the Imp to claw at other avenues.
His thoughts rested on the single most important part of his life; the one who happened to also be the prize of the silent battle: his daughter. Loona was to his right, sitting on the side of his dominant hand, subtly establishing a pecking order that placed the third guest at the bottom. It was unlikely that the message was understood, but a gain was still a gain even if you were the only one who knew about it. Attitude carried a lot of weight when it came to winning. Every little thing was part of the whole. There were no insignificant points.
Blitzo continued to focus on his daughter and smiled to himself. She was happy, which made him happy. He wasn’t a fan of the third guest. If given the opportunity to kill him without consequences, he would find a way to do it twice. As long as Loona was happy with him: he was allowed to live. She made it very clear that she didn’t want him starting anything, that it was really important to her that their first time all having a meal together was a really big deal. This was another reason for the exercise in cannily. Any outburst or movement from him that Loona interpreted as a threat to the former Cherub would only create a wedge between him and his child. Harming his relationship ship with her was not worth any amount of anxiety generated in the lamb to his left. He couldn’t draw a pistol, but he could glance in his direction every time he cut his steak. He couldn’t threaten him verbally, but he could on occasion draw a connecting line from any conversation topic and his career. He couldn’t insult Collin’s former avenue of employment, but he could boast about times he succeed in protecting Royalty.
Blitzo also had to admit that he respected Collin for his raw grit. Maybe, just maybe, the sheep had earned a small, subtle invitation to engage.
***
Collin minded himself while at the table. He didn’t make too much fuss over his darling, dark star. He didn’t engage in a way that was hostile or challenging to her father. He focused on navigating the evening, distracting himself from the potential trouble by grading his posture. Blitzo looked like he was itching for a reason to engage, and the Fallen Angel only had one objective: not give him an opening to attack. It was a big deal to Loona that they got along or at the very least remained civil. If it was important to Loona, then it was important to him. Plus; it was plain to see that the Imp was suppressing habitual behaviors of violence and obscenity.
The lamb also took note that the father of his lover was exhibiting odd body language. It was almost unsettling to see the vulgar, angry little man display a high standard of table manners. Perhaps it was just something to keep his mind busy so he could resist the temptation of tossing the table and attacking. Perhaps it was just some strange attempt to show him up. It was also possible that the habits were from his boyfriend. Collin didn’t put a lot of effort into solving the puzzle. Regardless of the reason why and methods used; Blitzo was being an adult about the situation. Collin accepted that at the very least he should match it.
He admitted to himself that the more the evening went on, the warmer his opinion of Blitzo became. Mortals had a tendency to assign measurable value on children they were thinking of adopting. Every lost soul just waiting for a loving home; reduced to produce to be judged for the slightest blemishes: it revolted Collin to think about it. Learning that the Demon adopted Loona well into her teens, the age group that had the worst prospects of having a home and a fair shot at life; that alone improved his opinion of the Imp. Finding out that Blitzo bore the burden of Loona’s anger at situations beyond her control, without giving up on her: it challenged everything Collin thought he knew about Demons and Hell.
Collin also had to admit that Blitzo was a lot less selfish than he presumed when they first crossed paths. He might still be many shades of immature, vulgar, and promiscuous; he was unfalteringly loyal to his lover. There were a few accidentally clues that he cared deeply for the Demonic Prince, and a few bits that suggested he was even making an effort to find common ground with Stolas’ daughter. It was palpable irony that he was willing to invest effort and commitment into a violation of marital vows. Perhaps there were a great many factors in the relationship Stolas had with his wife. Perhaps it was unfair to judge Blitzo as someone who destroyed a family just to advance his career.
Collin also realized early on that the Demon had quite the value for life. He had heard about the time he prevented the murder of his romantic partner. He could have easily let it happen and keep the Grimoire for himself. He didn’t need Stolas to keep his business afloat. He didn’t have to create a situation where he had to watch his own back in case the foiled assassin took it personally when Blitzo cost him a clean shot. It was also admirable that Blitzo stuck his neck out for his employees. Pretty much everyone who associated with him, tolerated his flaws, accepted him for who he was; was family to him.
Collin took a slow sip of his juice. Blitzo matched it with unflinching eye contact. Maybe, just maybe; under different circumstances, they would have been good friends. All their baggage was from being on different sides for only a few hours. Collin saw a bit of himself in the Demon. At first it was terrifying; feeling like an omen that he would be one day corrupted by the influence of Hell and reduced to a violent caricature of who he used to be. Now he took comfort in it; less afraid that he was doomed to become a monster. If there could be this much goodness in Blitzo: then Hell didn’t have to be nothing but a downward spiral. Before dinner he was very anxious that it was much too soon for them to be able to be civil, but now he was elated at how well it was going.
What was the benefit of being angry at Blitzo for his exile from Heaven; after meeting the woman who just might be his one true love in all creation? Maybe, just maybe he could at least engage more on his level.
***
Loona gradually became less tense as the night progressed. Having her dad and boyfriend in the same soon was risky business. Blitzo was the reason why Collin wound up an unwilling immigrant in Hell, on much less footing than any sinner’s soul. She couldn’t fairly explain how much it meant to her that things were going as well as they were. She would probably at some point say something embarrassing; but that wasn’t a concern. For the moment, she was genuinely happy and determined to keep it that way.
Her father was oddly contained for the evening. Loona spent some time suspicious that a gun would be shot under the table or he’d suddenly say something especially hurtful to her boyfriend. It was as if she was moments away from witnessing a murder; and for once she didn’t want there to be one. It wasn’t often that she met someone who she would be genuinely upset if the died. It was even less often that she met someone whose death would hurt her. Loona didn’t like building attachments; losing people was a familiar pain; one she never wanted to feel again.
Loona smiled to herself as she glanced at her father. She knew that she never said it enough that she loved him. She knew that she didn’t say it enough that she appreciated him. She also knew that Blitzo knew how she felt. It didn’t matter how angry she got or how distant she got; he was always still there. It didn’t matter what she said or threw at him, he never stopped being a dad. Even when she lost her temper enough to say that she didn’t want or need him; she never found herself alone when the dust settled. Even a bombshell like the revelation that she was now very deeply romantically invested in a Fallen Angel that Blitzo had come to blows with wasn’t enough to break him.
The Hellhound glanced at her darling little lamb, and her face almost turned a shade of crimson when she realized how her brain had described him. Just like with Blitzo, he could look past her worst days without pushing her away. Collin was another source of stability in her fucked up life; and one that filled a void that Blitzo couldn’t fill. He could be shy, he wore his fear openly when in a corner: but he never ran away from anything. Any situation he put his hoof in was something he was going to see through to the end; no matter what the outcome was gonna be. There was a chance that tonight was gonna be his last night ever; and he still came. She casually winked at him, earning a smile. A few ideas of how to reward him afterwards came into mind. Where he lacked in size and overt confidence, he compensated in other areas a lot more than one would expect.
“Pass the salt, Daddy?”
Loona held her breath. The moment the words came out, she knew she made a mistake. Both Collin and Blitzo reached for the salt, connecting with it at the same time. Her heart began to race for the first time all night. Her father being set off was now a sure thing. Bad enough that she graced Collin with a title that she very rarely extended to the Imp, but the innuendo was as bold as his horns. Collin appeared equally aware of the situation he was in; his face now frozen in a tense, silent acceptance of whatever was going to happen. She could almost hear the gears in her paternal daddy’s head grinding. She prepared herself for the worst when Blitzo broke the silence.
“She calls you, ‘Daddy’” Blitzo said with an emotionless tone with all the subtlety of a pissed off scorpion with a cobra for an ass.
“Well…to be fair” Collin replied sheepishly as his eyes were locked onto the Imp. “I’ve probably spanked her a lot more than you have.”
“You’re all right, Collin” Blitzo said with amusement in his voice and on his face. “But if you ever brag about what you do to my little girl to my face again: you’ll be wearing your fluffy ass as a mouthguard. Got it?”
“Crystal, sir.”
Loona could only stare in bewilderment at what she just witnessed. Time seemed to leave her behind as it went ever onward. She wasn’t sure how long she sat frozen in place. The two most important men in her life became more conversational, more casual; as if the last half hour never happened. They chatted like good friends whose bond was forged by different kinds of love for the same woman. It was as if they had been mutually preparing for an opportunity to strike at the throat just to be a bigger man, and then decided that she mattered more than whatever rivalry they still had. In place of an overprotective father sat a father.
All she could do was smile.