[... Ash has known of Claude's presence in Las Vegas this entire time. It's difficult to miss the smell of a demon, especially this one. To be honest, Ash was kind of surprised he never ran into Claude while making sure Alois Trancy didn't get into trouble, as one of his many efforts to impress Ciel.
He stares at Claude.]
This is the last place I expected we'd meet, [he says, smiling anyway.]
Indeed. [Claude isn't staring anymore than usual. Dull eyes and a polite demeanor were all part of the facade he wore as a butler. He regards Ash Landers carefully, therefore, and does not return the smile.]
"Seven minutes in heaven." [He intones it blandly.] A mortal game. How very ironic. Forgive me, Mr. Landers, but I have other matters to attend to.
[Claude barely smiled even during happier times, right? That's what Ash remembers. That's what Ash remembers Angela remembering: how Claude never smiled. His name wasn't Claude then, and their names weren't Ash or Angela, but that all hardly matters when they're stuck in a closet in Las Vegas, Nevada. --Ash wonders if Claude can even speak the language of angels anymore. He supposes not. That divine tongue got cut out and replaced with a serpent's.]
If I'm understanding the rules correctly, then this door will not open until we've been participants. [Much like they're forced to play Loki's depraved game.] Our reunion could have been more pleasant than this...
[He is already threading puppet strings around his fingers.]
This might burn a little, so I apologize in advance.
[No, when Claude Faustus was an angel, he rarely smiled. He had not ever been particularly predisposed to cheer. He always had to work for it. Perhaps that was why he had always been drawn to Lucifer's dark arts, rather than the Light of the Lord...and Ash had never understood, and neither had Angela.]
No need to apologize. [And Claude thinks that Ash really hasn't changed very much at all, not externally.] We are creatures governed by divine will. [Is he quoting one of Ash's lessons? Maybe.] We each play our respective parts, no more, no less.
[And the spiderwebs Claude conjures are steel-strong but near invisible in the darkness.]
[Once upon a time, Ash tried his best to incorporate Claude in the lighter two-thirds of the Heavenly Host. He wasn't blind, really, no more blind than he was with love for God--he knew that Claude had problems adjusting. Maybe it was God's invention of free will that did it...
For now, though, Ash feels slightly better with gossamer strings nearly cutting into his skin.]
Then you'd know that submission is the best course of action when confronted with a superior, [he says, but there's so much warmth and affection in his voice.] Please submit, Mr. Faustus.
[He expects the first five-stringed attack to get intercepted by spider webs, which is why he sends a second array criss-crossing around Claude as well.]
[It is the terminology, really, that bothers him most now. "Problems adjusting" only means "willingness to question," or "curiosity," or any number of traits which would not be considered amiss in humans, but God...
Thinking about God makes Claude feel cold, however, so he generally does not.]
I don't believe that you could be considered my superior any longer, Mr. Landers. [There is absolutely nothing in his voice.] Therefore, I am not bound to obey.
[Claude's control over the webs is a little more flexible than Ash's over the puppet strings. He doesn't have to hold them, so he intercepts the first set of stings with webbing from his hand and the second by conjuring a net from absolutely nowhere, which he sends back towards the angel. Even so, one of the strings wraps itself firmly around his wrist, but Claude barely heeds it and just keeps his eyes fixed on Ash Landers.]
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He stares at Claude.]
This is the last place I expected we'd meet, [he says, smiling anyway.]
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"Seven minutes in heaven." [He intones it blandly.] A mortal game. How very ironic. Forgive me, Mr. Landers, but I have other matters to attend to.
[He tries the door, and it doesn't budge.]
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If I'm understanding the rules correctly, then this door will not open until we've been participants. [Much like they're forced to play Loki's depraved game.] Our reunion could have been more pleasant than this...
[He is already threading puppet strings around his fingers.]
This might burn a little, so I apologize in advance.
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No need to apologize. [And Claude thinks that Ash really hasn't changed very much at all, not externally.] We are creatures governed by divine will. [Is he quoting one of Ash's lessons? Maybe.] We each play our respective parts, no more, no less.
[And the spiderwebs Claude conjures are steel-strong but near invisible in the darkness.]
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For now, though, Ash feels slightly better with gossamer strings nearly cutting into his skin.]
Then you'd know that submission is the best course of action when confronted with a superior, [he says, but there's so much warmth and affection in his voice.] Please submit, Mr. Faustus.
[He expects the first five-stringed attack to get intercepted by spider webs, which is why he sends a second array criss-crossing around Claude as well.]
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Thinking about God makes Claude feel cold, however, so he generally does not.]
I don't believe that you could be considered my superior any longer, Mr. Landers. [There is absolutely nothing in his voice.] Therefore, I am not bound to obey.
[Claude's control over the webs is a little more flexible than Ash's over the puppet strings. He doesn't have to hold them, so he intercepts the first set of stings with webbing from his hand and the second by conjuring a net from absolutely nowhere, which he sends back towards the angel. Even so, one of the strings wraps itself firmly around his wrist, but Claude barely heeds it and just keeps his eyes fixed on Ash Landers.]
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