You'd rather lie than fall
One of the problems with an angel-owned and operated hotel is that there aren't enough angels to staff the whole place. So you're going to end up with humans working in it, possibly hiring more people, and some of those people might be demons. It's not likely considering most demons would be wary of coming anywhere near the Conrad, especially since it's pretty well known in the supernatural community that the First of Firsts is operating out of there.
There are some demons, however, who just don't know (or don't care - subtle difference) what's best for them. The demon singing in the lounge is one of them.
There's nothing particularly demonic about her, long light brown hair with natural honey-blonde highlights, clear gray eyes, nice black slacks, and a white blouse. She's not stupid enough to be in the Conrad and have her wings out, though it makes the world a little duller. She's out of practice, getting around without her wings out, so all her movements are a little more cautious off-stage.
On stage, however, she's a picture of cool confidence, her voice low and smooth, sweet and seductive, and a little husky when appropriate. This is her forte, when she's not doing terribly awfully cruel demonic things, but she's not so dependent on those for her own entertainment. She gets enough just seeing those painful memories and fears, she reserves the torment for the people she really likes. When her set ends, she steps off the stage to a smattering of applause (everyone's so wrapped up in themselves, now, all their little insecurities oddly poignant in their minds all of the sudden), and she settles carefully at a table in the corner with a gin and tonic.
Thank you, Chicago, Honey will be here until she decides to leave. Don't forget to tip your waitresses.
There are some demons, however, who just don't know (or don't care - subtle difference) what's best for them. The demon singing in the lounge is one of them.
There's nothing particularly demonic about her, long light brown hair with natural honey-blonde highlights, clear gray eyes, nice black slacks, and a white blouse. She's not stupid enough to be in the Conrad and have her wings out, though it makes the world a little duller. She's out of practice, getting around without her wings out, so all her movements are a little more cautious off-stage.
On stage, however, she's a picture of cool confidence, her voice low and smooth, sweet and seductive, and a little husky when appropriate. This is her forte, when she's not doing terribly awfully cruel demonic things, but she's not so dependent on those for her own entertainment. She gets enough just seeing those painful memories and fears, she reserves the torment for the people she really likes. When her set ends, she steps off the stage to a smattering of applause (everyone's so wrapped up in themselves, now, all their little insecurities oddly poignant in their minds all of the sudden), and she settles carefully at a table in the corner with a gin and tonic.
Thank you, Chicago, Honey will be here until she decides to leave. Don't forget to tip your waitresses.