"Wolfprint, huh? I think I read that book." Bel murmurs, taking the small incentive from Harp hugging his arm before he started walking. His feet were silent against the already chilled concrete walkway, his hood remaining up. They looked like any other couple walking to the movies like this, it was strange for Bel to think of them like that though. Demons like him didn't do 'couples' or 'love'. There was no room for such nonsense, it only got in the way of personal gain and goals. What was the point of having power if you had to share it with someone? Or better yet, worry about another? It was such a waste and here Bel was, nearly purring like a kitten because he had the cupid hugging onto one of his arms. 

A faint rumble escaped Bel's stomach as they turned the corner, down yet another rather desolate street aside from the occasional passing car. "Why do you want to see Wolfprint?" He asks simply, tilting his head a bit. "Because its the one you saw on the billboard?" 

His head tilts a bit as loose strands of pink hair falls into his face, though he seems to not mind the loose strands there. Suddenly he would attempt to jerk his arm free of the wingless angel's grasp, only to quickly snake his hand back out, attempting to grab onto Harp's. He turns to look at the angel with a weird expression on his face. Not the common calm face he wore, nor the angry expression he had seen him with more often than anything else. His brows were knitted together, his lips set into a firm line, even his shoulders sagged in a near defeated expression. "Hold hands for a little bit?" The question was simple and sounded painfully innocent coming from Bel, his bright emerald green eyes growing a bit wide as he asked.

Bel... really couldn't explain himself. The magic must be influencing him far more than he previously thought, being this close to Harp until it wore off was going to be terrible. He wanted to hold and touch the angel, but at the same time he was repulsed and wanted to rip him to shreds and bathe in his blood. The tug of the magic was slowly growing stronger too, forcing him to lean more towards the more calm 'feelings'. But these feelings were fake, he was sure. His job, after all, was to cause guilt and wickedness. He had no time for emotion to get in the way.

 Just this once though... he supposed, he could allow it to slide. And there it was again. The weak magic influencing his thoughts and 'nonexistent' emotions.