[h1][i][b][color=FFC0CB][center]Lilith the Cambion[/center][/color][/b][/i][/h1][h3][i][b][color=FFC0CB][center]Team B[/center][/color][/b][/i][/h3][hr]Brimstone Avenue, a regular haunt for Lilith. Excess and gluttony carved a niche for her to settle, yet somehow it was more honest than its earthly counterpart; it lacked the pretence, had its façade stripped away – this wasn’t wrong here, they were the demons and the damned. And without the sweetness of sin, the lies the mortals told themselves and others, the hope and despair and desperation, the cheating and the wanton avarice and greed… Lilith shifted on her bar stool. The place just lacked that certain… “je ne sais quoi”.

Lilith sat at the bar wearing skin that was not her own. She sat alone. Heat haze mixed with cigarette smoke and sulphurous fumes to veil much of the establishment in obscurity. On the bar stood a drink, liquid vice, as of yet untouched; the froth writhed in its chalice, having lost all appeal the moment she bought it, almost one hour ago now. Some had spilled, and Lilith was drawing patterns across the wood with one hand whilst her chin rested in the other as she stared off into space, the motion almost hypnotizing with its fluidity. In the grain of the wood one might think they saw faces, drawn long in agony. One might also swear they shuddered and contorted away from her touch. 

The woman was the very picture of elegance, with porcelain skin, rosy cheeks, and glossy curls of spun gold. Her demeanour was a veneer of dignity and amusement; a smile toyed at the edges of her lips as if there was a joke only she was in on. It would not be amiss to call her outfit “de rigueur”, for the World Above, draped in a dress of deep red silk as she was, its lack of sleeves revealing arms of that creamy complexion – pale and smooth. Her signature, rose-tinted shades were in place, out of habit rather than necessity down here, but they had invariably become part of her identity. 

Eventually the smile soured, and a sigh slithered from between a painted pout of cherry red. Business. That’s what she was here for. Reality was a most unwelcome depart from her reverie. She left, the sultry supposition in the serpentine sway of her hips one most of those Below were wise enough to abstain from entertaining. 

Big Red was not hard to find; Lilith knew the locality well enough to find the Hotel described by the Message Imp with relative ease. Big Red himself stood out like, well, like a gargantuan red-mass of muscle dressed in a tailored suit. Such juxtaposition was not too uncommon though, much to Lilith’s regular delight. Yet his piercing glare and air of impatience scattered the gathering amusement. They had met before only once, and Lilith knew enough that it would be folly to get on his bad side. She approached.

[color=FFC0CB]“Big Red, I am so deeply sorry for my tardiness,”[/color] she said sincerely. Then her tone froze over quickly with the icy severity of business, one hand resting upon her hip as she gestured at the empty space around them with the other, [color=FFC0CB]“It was my impression we were expecting others, no?” [/color]