Quinn sucked down on his cigarette sharply as he stepped out into the snow. The bar was much too loud for the call he had to make. As he rounded the corner into the alley he thought of the smoke burning the roof of his mouth. It was a stinging sensation that he loved- because it felt like he could breathe flames at will. Of course this was only the sensation of the tar boring holes in to his skin, signs of a decaying mouth that heavily abused cigarettes dozens of times a day. In his free hand he quickly dialed his bosses number, unsure of what he would have to say to him, since he'd received a text only moments ago. He worked for a magazine and was under commission of one of its local branches. Although he was not one of its main photographers he was still expected to do his small part- provide photos of some up and coming artists. As he leaned against the dry brick wall of the bar in the alley he pressed his phone to his ear, waiting for his boss to pick up. His dark eyes hastily looked for something to divert his attention. At once they locked on to the trail of smoke clawing its way up in to the sky. He followed it up to the stars. "Gervase. This couldn't wait until tomorrow-" came the gruff voice of his boss. The photographer drew his smoke away from his lips to speak, as he did so he could hear the rustle of bedsheets on the other end. His boss was the type to wake up in the middle of the night and just call his agents. "I can see that- something wrong with Phil? Does he need a replacement?" Phil was his colleague and the top photographer on the team, he was covering some celebrity that had recently moved to the city. Quinn hated the guy- not because he was loved by everyone and was vehemently successful, but because he was just so goddamn full of himself. "Its always the same with you, kid. Let go of the Phil thing- Be glad that I accepted you on the team in the first place. You know he's more qualified for the job-" "Alright alright. Why the call?" He spat, hastily trying to change the topic. He dropped the cigarette in the snow. "Theres this new artist- a real big shot. Social media loves her. Have you ever heard of Aspen Bell?" He was confused. He was sure he had never heard if the name (because I assume he didn't care for names when they had their fling) but something at the back of his mind assured him that he had. "Uhh yeah of course- you want me to cover her story instead?" "Exactly. I'll send you a text on what she looks like and you can start- shes local and quite the craze. You should feel honored I'm giving you this break, kid." Croaked the boss before hanging up. Quinn rubbed a temple, puzzled as to why his head hurt so much earlier. He almost never had headaches but he was sure they didn't feel like that. He stood from the wall and was just about to turn away from the alley and head inside, but then he saw something. Next to the dumpster stood at about his hip level two eyes, glittering thanks to the streetlights behind him. He could make out the outline of what looked like a crouched person. Thoroughly freaked out he jumped back, "What the fuck?" He breathed, the air from his lungs curling before him. The word 'homeless' popped up in his mind as he squinted at the thing and he was sure that he was looking at a hobo now. Angry with himself for looking like such a pussy he bore his teeth in a frown, "Christ I thought you were something else." The glittering eyes stepped out from the shadow of the dumpster and revealed the face of a doberman. The photographer was relieved even further and even stopped frowning. He wasn't exactly a people person but he loved dogs. He squatted down and was just about to reach for his camera when the dog spoke. "And what if I am... Something else." Quinn stared at the dog, dumbfounded. He kept on staring even as the dogs eyes rolled to the back of his head and blood poured out of its mouth, pooling about his feet. Someone must have slipped something in his drink, was his initial thought. The blood began to move and solidify, it began to shape itself into something. He stood and scrambled in the snow to run, but he faceplanted. The wind was knocked from his lungs and before he could regain his composure an immense weight settled in on his back. He was pressed against the compact snow and ice, it burned against his exposed skin. Another burning sensation bore through his jacket and into his back- he could feel the leather and smell it melting. Quinn struggled to scream but he could barely breathe. His mind was flooded with alarms and his vision was beginning to blur around the edges. He was sure he would die- confused and alone in an alley on a snowy night. "Enough with your struggling." Grumbled whatever it was that was on his back. It grabbed him by the hair and drew his face back. Quinn looked into the gnarled and ugly face of his attacker. At first he thought it was someone who wore a really convincing mask. But, as it spoke next, he saw that the mouth moved in a way that a mask never could. "Let's make a bargain." ---- Minutes later Xezerom strode in to the bar in his new body. This environment would be the best place to get a feel for the controls. Like most demons back home he enjoyed watching humans in their natural environments, from the looking glasses in hell. He recalled that most humans in places like these would approach desks that held bottles of intoxicant, exchange currency, and then consume for hours on end. It seemed incredibly pointless. Incredibly enjoyable. Xezerom shouldered past some people at the bar and slammed some cash that he found in his pocket down on the counter. The bartender raised an eyebrow at him, "Quinn, you should really take it easy man." He said as he poured him some clear liquid and slid it over to him. So that's this humans name, thought the demon as he sipped his drink. The alcohol stung his lips. He looked down at his glass, "Mmm." (Sorry this was so unnecessarily long)