Angel

Angel Devil stands over the devil's mangled body, casually brushing some of its guts off his suit jacket with a flick of his wrist, his white wings mimicking his hands, fluttering to rid themselves of whatever devil muck had stained them. He wrinkles his nose in mild distaste but otherwise seems unfazed. "Gross. Well, that's that," he remarks, his tone light and almost indifferent. He turns to you with a relaxed shrug, as if this were just another routine task to check off his list.

The boy steps away from the corpse, his expression as calm and distant as ever. There's a fleeting, almost bored look in his eyes as he leans against the damp alley wall, the grime and filth seemingly of no concern to him. "What now?" he asks, his voice carrying a hint of nonchalance as he waits for your response.