*000000*

I stumble a little as I land on my building's rooftop, feeling queasy and extremely bloated, even worse than the first time.

Vision swimming a little as my 'stomach' grunts and rebels against its treatment, I stagger my way toward the staircase, a hand covering my mouth.

"Are you alright, Mistress?" Senketsu is the first to ask in his posh tone, yellow chameleon-like eyes staring straight at me from my pauldrons.

I shake my head empathetically in the universal 'fuck no' gesture as I make my way down the stairs as quickly as I can, completely ignoring the fact that I'm still dressed like a two-bit stripper.

"J'ai l'impression que j'vais gerber."I feel like I'm gonna puke. I mumble under my breath, finally reaching my apartment's door, stopping, realizing that my keys are under my rug and swallowing a curse.

A short moment later, my head swimming after I had to bend down to fetch those, then fumbling with the lock like I'm positively shitfaced, I finally managed to step inside my apartment-

-and promptly spray-vomit a gigantic stream of pink, gaseous smoke.

I'm not so far gone that I don't manage to keep a hold on it, one hand extended skyward like I'm holding a balloon.

I instantly start feeling better even as I sink to my knees, before letting myself fall on my back.

The Red Plushie Emperor squeaks indignantly as I almost squish him, but I'm honestly too relieved to care.

"Right…" I start, taking big gulps of air, "So, turns out? Technically ageless beings have a lot of life-force… And between that and their magic, I can't keep it in for very long before feeling very sick."

Ddraig pauses mid-flight, his wings not even moving as he looks at the enormous ball of lifeforce I harvested tonight which almost doesn't fit in my entire living room, before squeaking a noise of understanding.

"Sounds about right." He mumbles, a forepaw cupping his muzzle, before eventually turning his button-eyes in my direction, "Your body is still a human one, in spite of your weird constitution. Unless you took the magic of those Fallen mooks in and let it change you, that's going to be a problem going forward."

"Même pas en rêve."Not even in dreams. I snort aloud, before shaking my head in the negative, "I know that I won't have any problem keeping in the forty-ish souls of those exorcists, so it's not like it's very handicapping. And I've got two companions to look after who don't suffer from those same limitations." I add while pointedly looking at him, then at one of my pauldrons.

"Plus, what you just said is only a theory. One backed by my instincts, true, but that's not going to be something I'll ever be considering without testing its effects beforehand." I finish in a tone that breaks no arguments.

Bottle-green button-eyes stares at me for a moment longer from on-high, until the Welsh Dragon visibly untense while letting out a squeaky chuckle.

"Eh, you're sure you're truly human, girl? Because what I've just heard sounded almost like dragon's pride talk." The Red Plushie Emperor says, lazily drifting downward to settle on his haunches on my stomach.

I give him a confused look.

"You could just admit that you don't want to take a shortcut because you'd rather climb all the way to the top while keeping your humanity, you know?" He tells me mildly.

I pause, letting his statement sink in-

-and realize that the dragon is, in fact, right on the money.

I huff, before snatching him by the scruff of his neck with my free hand, ignoring the indignant squeak that follows as I shift into a more comfortable - and seating - position.

"Yeah, you're right." I tell Ddraig after dropping him back in my lap, "Taking that kind of shortcut wouldn't sit well with me, like, at all."

I throw a distracted glance toward the swirling pink orb of smoke.

"... Maybe one day when I won't have another choice but to take the plunge, then I'll do it. But I'd rather not alter myself when I have yet to reach the limits of my potential." I slowly words out.

"Good, keep your eyes on the prize, partner." The Red Plushie Emperor gives me a strong, solid nod from my lap and I hum in agreement, "Still, the question remains, what are you going to do with the crows' magics?"

I look back at him, my thoughts running miles a minute.

"I mean-" I start to say.

"I volunteer." Senketsu's voice cuts my train of thoughts, prompting Ddraig and I to look at him in his leftmost chameleon-like eye.

"... Volunteer for what exactly?" I slowly ask, my brows furrowed.

"Mistress wants to know what the magic of a supernatural species will do to her in the future, correct?" He says, making me slowly nod in assent, "Then I am the better choice to go through the process. I request for you to infuse me with the magic of those Fallen Angels, Mistress."

Silence falls amid the living room for a beat.

"Absolutely not!"/"Have you lost your mind?!" The Red Plushie Emperor and I bark as one.

"This is such a bad idea." I grumble aloud, one of my hands cupping the condensed magic of three Two-Winged Fallen Angels.

In the end, Senketsu has been adamant that he was the best choice, and wouldn't budge from his self-appointed, potentially sacrificial task. He had kept piling up arguments after arguments in favor of it, chief among them that if I had to 'terminate' the result, I could always 'rebuild' him, which didn't sit well with me at all, but Ddraig considered it a sound reasoning.

Though what ended up making me sway was more the fact that it was Senketsu's very own first decision he made entirely by himself since he attained sentience a little over a week ago, and I couldn't really well deny his choice without hurting his feelings.

I am proud of my living uniform, even if I still consider this whole experiment incredibly reckless and borderline suicidal.

Senketsu's chameleon-like eyes crinkle up a little as he lays on my bed in what I'm sure is his own version of a confident smile, and I sigh a little under my breath, the Red Plushie Emperor laying across my shoulders watching the scene silently.

"I'm ready, Mistress." The sentient outfit reminds me.

"I'm not." I shoot back, before sighing once again, "Let's get this over with."

I spear him with a look.

"Don't go dying on me, you heard?" I tell him sternly.

"I'll try my best not to, Mistress." He answers evenly in his posh tone.

I give him a jerky nod, before slowly lowering the ball of condensed Fallen Angel magic into him, and-

"And you're absolutely certain that nothing else has changed?" I ask Senketsu for what's probably the nth time while giving his upgraded battle-form appearance a look through the mirror.

"I'm positive in my assessment, Mistress." The sentient uniform answers mildly, chameleon-like eyes locked into mine through his reflection, "Besides this particular cosmetic change and this new ability, I feel perfectly well."

I hum contemplatively while taking in my new appearance following Senketsu's Fallen Angel infusion.

It's nothing major, really, considering the overall impression remains very risqué, but the addition of tones of black feathers lining the strips of clothes running over my body and - precariously - hiding my private bits make it so it at least looks a tad less unnecessarily lewd.

It also makes him very comfy to wear in all of his forms, since I've literally the impression of wearing nothing more than a warm and cuddly cloud.

I snap my fingers at my sides, marveling a little as Senketsu's Light Magic crackles at my gauntlet's fingertips.

"He got a nice powerup out of this." Ddraig squeak-hums while hovering next to my shoulder, "His aura alone after adding the human's magic to the mix is firmly High Class now. The two of you will probably be nearing Ultimate Class the next time we spar once he really starts to channel his magic."

I slowly nod at the Red Plushie Emperor's words while looking at him through the mirror.

Him, too, has changed a lot.

Since I couldn't keep the raw lifeforce of the Fallen Angels for my own use, we decided to give it to him after talking about it.

Now, as a Heavenly Dragon, Ddraig used to have a truly staggering amount of the thing, so it is barely a drop in the bucket for him, but the odd, soul-over-matter principles that is apparently tied to his nature make it so his cuddly and derpy appearance shifted a few notches toward his old one, though it did nothing for his size.

His 'scales' have started getting back their shine, his 'gems' appears more, well, gem-like and his 'claws' are sharper-

-and I can't help but feel slightly disappointed by it all.

Plushie-Ddraig is majestuous, and my powers are apparently conspiring with him to rob that from me.

"What's with that strange look, partner?" The Welsh Dragon asks, locking eyes with my reflection.

My pout intensifies as I cross my arms under my sizable bust.

"... Nothing." I sulk a little while looking to the side.

"... You're annoyed because I'm regaining my majestic appearance, aren't you?" He deadpans.

"Yes, yes I am!" I whine loudly, "You were so fucking cute and cuddly and- and now I won't be able to bring you back to Kuoh High to watch my back because the girls and the Devils will notice." I end my last sentence quietly.

He gives me a long suffering look, before sighing-

-and, under my befuddled eyes, his appearance recedes to his plushie glory.

My jaw drops a little as my attention and head snaps back fully on him.

"My soul getting stronger doesn't change my vessel in the least, girl." He chides me, lazily flying to lay across my shoulders, "And I've spent more than enough time as my soul-form to know how to suppress it. I only had that to play with for the last six or so centuries, after all."

Slowly, a wide, beaming smile blossoms on my lips.

"... Say something, partner. You're kind of scaring me." The Welsh Dragon recoils its little head as I stare intently at him.

I sweep him in a glomp before he can react.

"I'M SO HAPPY I COULD DIE!"

"Bwuh- NOT AGAIN! LET ME GO, YOU CRAZY WOMAN!"

Oddly enough, despite having left a pile of corpses in my wake on Saturday evening, nothing of note happened the following Sunday. Which kind of surprised me, since I fully expected getting asked Very Pointed QuestionsTM by one of the two Kings at that point.

So, my confusion only peaked higher and higher as the week started and the days slowly went by without me getting carted either to the StuCo or the ORC.

Days went and I settled into a new routine where I spent a couple hours everyday getting my - and Senketsu's - ass kicked by the Red Plushie Emperor on a regular basis. And I definitely wasn't going to beat him anytime soon considering he was better than ever after getting topped up with Fallen Angel's life-force. Though I was giving him as best as I could, my body finally catching up in full with my inherited instincts.

Damn battle-junkie was apparently overjoyed that I could hit him and make him feel it because of my Haki, for some reason. Though I couldn't really throw stones from my own glasshouse since I massively enjoyed getting into scraps with the overpowered plushie.

Of course, even if the week had been easy-going for me, it didn't mean that I didn't pay attention to what was happening in Kuoh following Issei's reincarnation.

While talking with Momo and Yuki about our respective weekends, I discreetly watch in the corner of my eyes as a certain boob-obsessed protagonist tries his hardest to make his two perverted friends remember the girl with whom he went on quite the deadly date.

"Ano, are you feeling alright, Linlin-san?" Momo asks, a finger on her cheek and her head tilted, and I realize that I've been frowning.

"Oui, t'inquiètes."Yeah, don't bother. I answer mechanically, wincing a little, "Sorry, I mean to say 'Yes, I am.' ahah…"

Not really, though.

I just overheard the two guys make fun of their recently-murdered-before-he-got-better friend about his 'imaginary girlfriend', and I can't help but feel angry for his sake.

… No wonder he went a little crazy after that in canon.

"Do you feel it, partner?" The Red Plushie Emperor quietly squeak-asks from my backpack.

"That we're being followed?" I ask back, earning a little grunt of agreement, "Yes, I keep hearing blue since we left Kuoh High's premise. Familiar?"

"I think so." The Welsh Dragon hums, "What are you going to do?"

I hum consideringly, before shrugging lightly.

"Nothing." I answer back after a beat, "I won't change my schedule if the Devils want to peak but are too chicken-scared to approach. It actually suits me just fine."

"So that means that we're still sparring this evening?" He asks with an eager tone.

"Yes we are." I easily agree, and I barely catch Senketsu's own shivers of anticipation even if the sentient uniform remains silent.

I was really starting to ask myself what was wrong with those people when I finally got the unexpected visit that I totally expected by the end of the week.

Though what I didn't expect was for this particular visitor to show up…

My apartment's door clicks open and I step inside-

-only to pause, hard, when I realize that a stranger is giving me a cheeky wave from my own couch.

Dark hair with a blonde bang? Check.

Eyes darting to my cleavage - in spite of me technically being underage - and the reptilian head of the Red Plushie Emperor hanging from my backpack? Check.

Smug grin firmly stuck on his very punchable face? Check.

My expression flattens.

His own grin widens as he sees that I recognized him.

… Alright, time to remind him that you shouldn't piss off certain people.

False tears start to well up in my eyes as I jump back outside my apartment, one hand pointing straight at my living room.

"KYAAAHHH! THERE'S A PERVERT IN MY HOME!" I yell at the top of my lungs.

In the corner of my eyes, I see his expression turn from smug, to flabbergasted, to full blown-out panic, and I inwardly grin.

Next time, don't wait for people in their own house, Azazel.

Chapter 10 : And bring me some good rum!

"Was this really necessary?" A certain Governor General of the Grigori asks with a pout, his arms crossed over his chest like a petulant child while sitting on one of my seats.

If anything, the lazy smirk that I've been sporting all the while the Twelve-Winged Fallen Angel ran around casting mindwipe spells all over my building and on the Police officers sent to investigate widens.

"I don't know?" I faux-wonder, a hand on my cheek and my head tilted to the side, "I'm still wondering if the message has been properly understood."

"What message?" Azazel flatly asks.

"Next time, use the damn doorbell. And bring a bottle of rum with you while you're at it, the good kind." I drawl back, the flatness of my lips conveying how thoroughly unimpressed I am with his antics, "It's the polite thing to bring a gift when visiting someone, after all, and the cashiers aren't quite as morally flexible as back home."

His pout intensifies, and let me tell you, I have all the proof I'll ever need to certify that a grown ass man absolutely can't pull that shit off with that particular show.

"I was trying to be discreet!" The millennia old being whines, "Both Sirzechs and Serafall would throw a fit if they knew I got in a hundred miles radius of their little sisters!"

I mentally take note that the Fallen's most famous playboy is convinced that I'm already in the know to casually burn Sona's cover like that, before answering with finality.

"Yet you could still have teleported on my doorstep, instead of on my own couch." I tell him firmly, annoyance dripping through every word.

"You're no fun, Linlin-chan." He huffs, arms still crossed over his chest.

"Don't bother with the honorifics, I'm French born and raised." I explain mildly while waving a hand dismissively.

"No fun and not cute, truly disappointing."

My eyebrow twitches and I glare back at him-

-only to notice the beginning of a tiny, smug smirk at the corner of his lips.

It's rather obvious that Azazel is trying to gauge me by deliberately provoking what he thinks is an intriguing unknown still in her teenage years.

It probably would've worked if I didn't have roughly twice the age he is pegging me at, but I still need to take a breath to calm myself before putting my foot up his ass in annoyance.

"I'm plenty cute when not annoyed." I very maturely answer, "Anyway, to what do I owe the pleasure of having the Governor General of the Grigori paying me a visit?"

I probably couldn't inject any more raw sarcasm in my tone if I ever tried.

In front of my eyes, the playful, slightly goofy persona Azazel has adopted so far instantly melts as he adopts a far more serious and professional air, clasping his hands in his lap.

"You were right." He starts in a no-nonsense tone.

I blink.

"Come again?" I ask back, mildly put out by the sudden change of tone.

"What you told and implied to Mittelt, the Two-Winged Fallen Angel you spared, was right. Someone else had apparently taken control of this operation that I had at first sanctioned, overruling my previous orders to keep it strictly to the observation stage." He starts explaining, splaying his hands to the side in a slightly helpless gesture, "Your hunch that one of my people had gone behind my back was correct. Even if I don't publicly advertise my patronage of the Slash Dog team, anyone relatively familiar with my faction's inner workings and my methods could've put two and two together and determined that something was afoot."

I can't help the derisive snort that escapes me at that particular proclamation.

"Yeah, and the four most gullible goons you could find somehow got the post and got played like absolute buffoons? Pull the other one." I drawl back.

"... The one responsible was one of my Cadres, and used my personal sigil to counterfeit the updated orders they received after their deployment." Azazel elaborates, a distinctly pained and annoyed air overtaking his features the span of an instant, "Mistakenly believing that I was behind those orders, the team dispatched didn't look any further beyond the reasoning penned in the letter, and the rest is history."

I take a moment to let that sink in before slowly nodding in understanding.

"Alright, assuming I'm believing you, why even go to the length of telling me about it yourself?" I ask pointedly.

"The Cadre behind all this apparently had some moles that informed him that I was onto him. He escaped before we could take him into custody." He tells me bluntly, "There's a possibility you could be targeted as a reprisal for exposing him."

I let that sink in, mentally cursing like a sailor - eh - all the while.

Seems like I'll still be dealing with that particular cock-uo, then.

"Alright," I grind out, rubbing at my temple in annoyance, "So I'm potentially in chuckelfuck-

"Kokabiel." Azazel helpfully informs me.

"-chucklefuck's vizor because I stopped him from provoking the two Kuoh Overseers and potentially their disgustingly overpowered siblings, did I get that right?" I reiterate, letting my hand fall back against my side.

"That's the gist of it, yes. Especially because I have reasons to think his interest in Kuoh will not abate quite this soon." The Fallen Angel head honcho agrees easily, before smiling coyly, dipping his head toward my backpack laying at my feet, "But I don't think you're going to be the easy picking any of his more zealous acolytes will think you are."

I lock eyes with him for a beat, before huffing in amusement.

"You can come out, Ddraig." I say aloud.

The Red Plushie Emperor unfolds from his hiding spot, flipping over the latches of my backpack with a squeaky-chuckle while letting his soul resurfacing, button-eye shining brighter, scales getting more defined and his claws growing sharper.

The Governor General of the Grigori watches in awe as the Welsh Dragon resurrected lazily flaps his way to my couch's headrest to lean on it.

"Hmmm…" Ddraig hums consideringly while looking over Azazel, "It's been a while, Scapegoat."

"Fuck me, that's really you." Azazel sharply inhales, his eyes darting between the Red Plushie Emperor and me, "How?!"

"I'm more intrigued about how exactly you managed to ferret who Ddraig here was?" I ask him back, not quite ready to spill my secrets out like that.

"Marie-Charlote- Can I call you Marie-Charlotte? Yes? Cool. Anyway, I'd recognize that magic anywhere. I've met - from afar, mostly - the two Heavenly Dragons dozens of times during their duels across the ages and was present when God sealed them both at the beginning of the Great War. I wouldn't be able to forget the feel of their respective magic even if I wanted to." The Fallen Angel more-or-less word vomits his explanation, fascination warring with dread on his face, "Most of the gods and some members of the long-lived species who knew them at the time would catch on pretty quickly too. The four Satan's wouldn't, though, considering they were all still in their fathers' gonads when the Great War began, but don't go parading with him in front of Zekram Bael and expect him not to say anything, for example."

If I needed a reminder that the being in front of me is fuck old, that'd do it, I guess.

"'I was present', he says." The Welsh Dragon squeak-snorts, before narrowing his pupils in his direction, "You've meant to say that you actually helped Albion and my sealings."

Azazel's expression turns more than a little plastic at that while my own lips curl up slightly.

I scoop the Red Plushie Emperor in my arms from the headrest while ignoring his squeak of indignation and make use of the one technique I developed recently to curb the worst of his grumbling.

Namely, giving him belly rubs until he settles.

… I'm really starting to think that the memes I saw in my previous life about dragons being oversized, scally cats had some truth in them.

"Peace, Ddraig." I chide him gently while desperately trying to keep a giggle in when one of his hind legs starts to kick a little in barely hidden appreciation, "You've got a body back and holding grudges at this juncture isn't the best of ideas."

"Still not forgiving the crow…" The blissed out plushie grumbles.

Azazel remains silent for a beat, mouth agape in front of that particular spectacle, before asking once again:

"How?!" He blurts out, gesturing between the Welsh Dragon and me, "How did you pull that off?"

"Oh? How are you so certain that I'm the one behind that development?" I ask a bit coyly.

His expression turns a little deadpan.

"I wouldn't be suspecting you if I couldn't feel the mix of magic permeating your uniform. One which is startlingly similar to another Sacred Gear I know. Coincidentally, I can also see the same chameleon-like eyes that my traumatized Two-Winged subordinate described on your collar's lapel." He shakes his head, "One of those two alone, I could attribute it to some kind of weird Balance Breaker or something. The two together? The only plausible hypothesis is that you're somehow responsible."

Damn, he is quite good.

My lip twitches upward in a little smile.

"You can say hi, Senketsu."

"Well met, Governor General." My sentient uniform respectfully intone in his posh tone, startling Azazel once again.

"Fascinating…" Said Fallen Angel mutters to himself, a hand cupping his chin and his eyes darting this way and that, "Some kind of soul-based magic? The same idea behind a phylactery, it seems, except it also works backward and not at all that way? Truly fascinating…"

"I suppose I'm awesome like that, yes." I agree with all the modesty I can manage.

"... The one thing I don't quite understand is how you managed to pull them out of their hosts without killing them." He mumbles, before throwing me an amused look, "Oh, don't give me that look. It's pretty obvious the Hyoudou boy was one of them, and the enthusiastic fellow is still as fit as a fiddle, reincarnation as a devil none withstanding. You didn't even break the wards on his Gear!"

"I'm sorry, but a girl has to keep some of her secrets." I answer a little fakely.

Azazel snorts, before shaking his head.

"Fine, be that way." He gives me another one of his pouts, and I cringe a little inside at the view, "But I'd still like your insight in some of my projects."

"I'll think about it once the current crisis is averted." I tell him noncommittally.

Silence falls between the four of us for a beat, me politely staring at the Governor General of the Grigori while he is still in a SCIENCE!-based fugue.

"Right!" Azazel eventually manages to pull himself out of his daze, shaking his head a little for either emphasis, theatricality, or just plain old reflexes, before looking back at me, "That both went like and not at all like I expected it. You're both smarter and less trigger-happy than my subordinate's report indicated." He comments while giving a considering look, "Can I at least ask you what your goals are in Kuoh? I'd really appreciate it if it's not to pick a fight with the Devil faction by targeting two of the Satans' bloodlines."

I can't help the derisive snort that escapes me.

"Quite the opposite, in fact." I drawl, annoyance dripping through my tone once again, "I had a warning that this place was going to become the nexus of quite a lot of events on which the future could hinge, and decided to take some steps to prevent the worst case scenario from happening."

"... Warnings such as?" Azazel asks, eyes narrowed.

"... There's a possibility Rivezim Lucifer puts in his own head that he needs to do better than his papa, so you really should prepare for the worst." I admit ominously amid my sea of technical truths.

"... I see…" He glances consideringly toward Ddraig, "That's why you're in her corner for the time being, I take it?"

The Red Plushie Emperor half-opens one not-quite button-eye in Azazel's general direction.

"My new partner made some convincing arguments along those lines, yes." He not-quite admits in his squeaky voice.

"... Ominous." The Fallen Angel muses aloud, "So you gave yourself the self-appointed task of acting like a safety net, I take it?"

"That's an accurate summary of the situation." I answer.

"Bah, so serious." Azazel faux-shivers, before fetching a card out of one of his inner pockets, "You really should unwind some more. It'll be bad for your skin otherwise. Anyway, this is my card. I'm not asking for an alliance or anything, but I'd appreciate it if I could be kept in the loop in case something happens. The peace between the three biblical factions has never been closer, and I'd rather someone gives me a heads-up when things go pear-shaped, especially with Kokabiel still in the wilds doing who-knows-what. He always was a bit of a warmonger, and I'm afraid Kuoh Town is going to look like a really juicy target."

"He already tried stirring some shit here." I point out while bending over to take his card.

He doesn't answer immediately, and when I straighten back up, I catch him looking at my tits.

My eyebrow twitches, and I snap my fingers loudly.

"Hé, regarde moi dans les yeux quand j'te cause."Oi, my eyes are up there. I deadpan aloud.

"Ahah, sorry about that, sorry…" He awkwardly chuckles while rubbing the back of his head, and I barely manage to catch his mutter of 'almost like Yasaka'.

The twitch of my eyebrow intensifies.

"Anything else to add?" I ask patiently.

"Hmm? Oh, no, that should be it." Azazel answers after a bit, "Unless you want to explain how you're able to do what you do, of course, then I'm all ears."

My eyes narrow.

"I think you're starting to overstay your welcome." I answer sweetly back.

He gives an almost imperceptible glance toward the Red Plushie Emperor in my arms.

Good. He seems to not be dumb enough to think that he could tango with Ddraig without a whole lot of prep-time and humongous amounts of collateral damages, and that's before accounting for my own brand of bullshit.

Without another word, he rises while giving a disarming smile and straightening his vest.

"It was a pleasure, Marie-Charlotte." He says politely, "And I hope we will have a positive relationship moving forward."

I hum noncommittally to that, before giving him a slow nod.

"Rest assured that I'm not in a hurry to start throwing down with the biblical factions, or any other out there, really." My smile sharpens a notch, the sky distantly rumbling above us, "All I really want anyway is to be free to do as I please, and remind some people that freedom at times just happens to have some boundaries."

Interestingly enough, he flinches a little at my words, and his smile turns a little wobbly.

"... That's… Reassuring to hear." The tone he uses implies that it is, in fact, anything but, "I'll endeavor to remember it going forward. I'm sure you'll manage without even my occasional support, but don't hesitate to give me a call if you think I could help."

"I'll think about it." I answer mildly.

"I'll be on my way, then. Good day." He gives me a nod before about-facing in the door's direction.

"Just remember." I call, making him pause, "Next time you come over, use the damn doorbell! And bring me some good rum!"

That seems to be what he needed to hear, if the minute twitch of his shoulders is any indication.

Eh, at least he left with a laugh.

[AN: In case it isn't very clear, Azazel is