”I’m definitely not going to help you find out.” Violet offers a roll of her eyes as she steps back. “But I’m just gonna go with my gut and say no. There’s nothing manly about you.”
"Come on, Vi-" Tate wasn’t going to take that easily. His ego wouldn’t allow it.
"That’s not what you’d say when we were together on that bed of yours."
” Witches? ”
Michael chuckles, onyx irises roll at the statement. Green skin and black clothing were more what he expected.
” Witches don’t exist. “
Devil laughs as the child speaks up. Who knew they’d be able to have conversations?
“That’s what I said. But Constance got all bat shit crazy and started telling stories about New Orleans and shit.”
"You go ask her for yourself."
Tate doesn’t bother censoring his language- it’s of no use to the evil little being in front of him.
”You just gave me the most terrible image in my head. If only I could die again and forget you even said that.”
"That’s what I was aiming for," Tate has a smug smile on his face as he looked down at his own hands. "Wonder if mine are manlier than his. Shit."
Tate followed the flower up the stairs, wondering what room she’d lead the both of them too. It wasn’t hard to guess, of course. Their— her room. It was filled with memories and emotions that he wasn’t prepared to revisit just yet. Calmly, he stayed a few steps behind Violet.
With a sigh he went towards the room they once shared and opened the door.
“Ladies first,” He commented while avoiding her eyes.
The next hour of conversation wasn’t going to be an easy one.
”I thought so.”
"It’s all your father’s fault. He’s got manly hands."
Violet rolls her eyes as she meets his cruel gaze with her own cold honey-colored eyes. If she knew Tate would be out of hiding when she came downstairs, she would have stayed in her bedroom.
Her arms fold over her chest as she clears her throat. “Yeah, it has.” she says in the same muttered tone he’d spoken in. The brunette took into account his stained clothing, and wasn’t surprised. He was a sick, perverted bastard so it made sense that he’d like to stay in bloodstained clothes.
Rolling her eyes, Violet shook her head with a sarcastic smile. “It’s been a while,” she quotes, “but not long enough.” she mutters and turns away, heading back to the stairs.
Tate’s eyes soon turned to glare at the flower. She could have easily disappeared, ignored his presence, but instead she was keeping herself visible. What a lovely thing to do for the Devil.
Now he has something to play with.
"Don’t be bitter, Vi." He taunts with a smile as he blocks the way she was walking.
"You know you’ve missed my games and witty charm."
Blond menace steps closer to the girl, keeping his eyes locked to hers. “How has it been? Being alone, that is. You should be used to it by now.”
Tate stared blankly out the window, holding back a laugh.
"Constance says witches want to buy the house. How lame is that?”
"Must be some teenage wannabe’s with black dresses and weird rocks."
"—yes actually. I haven’t seen you since you died."
"Have you ever thought-"
”Maybe there’s a reason I’ve hidden myself?”