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“A coffeeshop? Really?” Cýliane leaned back, eyeing the menu. “That's where you summon demons?”
“It’s at a crossroads.” Calren shrugged and nodded towards the window.
“Fair enough.” Cýliane chuckled. “So … what can I do for you, angel?”
“Not an angel anymore,” Calren reminded her with a weak smile.
“Don’t think I’ll stop calling you that just because you spited God once.”
“I'll cope.”
Cýliane raised an eyebrow. “Is this about your falling out with the Almighty? Looking for a deal to fix that?”
Calren laughed, sharp and bitter. “I wouldn’t go back if the Lord begged me on his knees.”
“What is it, then? You wouldn’t summon me without a reason. Usually, you try to gut me for sport.”
He sighed, holding her gaze. “Just … have a cup of coffee with me.”
Cýliane tilted her head. “Why?”
“It's been a rough year. I'd rather argue with you than be alone. Please.”
“Mhh. Words sweet as sin.” Cýliane grinned. “Arguing I can offer — but you'll owe me a favor.”
“Deal.”
The barista took their orders, and with his worst enemy smirking at him from across the table, Calren finally felt his shoulders relax, knowing all too well it would cost him.