Following the White Rabbit

[Ezekiel]

Ezekiel listened quietly, though the smile faded from his lips. The tirade was both boring and juvenile, the tantrum of a disappointed child, but it was informative too. Each insult plinked like coins upon the next, a store to be cashed in later, if the mood took him. Such a big chip on those shoulders. Such a starving ego to feed. Creating a scene right now, in front of this particular audience, would be a most delicious feast… but ultimately a short lived one. A poor waste of entertainment, and a bridge too hastily burned.

He accepted the coin when it was finally offered, rolling it over the knuckles of his rose covered hand. For all his sharp edges, Ezekiel shifted as effortlessly as desert sands. If he had perceived slights, or given them, they rippled into nothing as quickly as they arrived.

“Ah, hello friend,” he said. The grinning demon flashed its face. Then the grimace. Over and over, back and forth. “How did you end up there I wonder?” His gaze flicked back up to Cruz, a slit-eyed sly grin, but it was more mischievous than threatening. “And what “kind” is that? The rude kind? You are quite right about that.” He laughed, more of a short giggle, and flicked the coin up into the air. It glinted dully as it spun. Ezekiel caught it and slapped it down against the back of his hand, straight into the cavernous maw of the inked skull.

A peek down at the face revealed under his palm, a smirk for what he saw, and he pocketed it without comment.

“I don’t deal in money,” he said. It amused him that it was what Cruz had assumed he meant by reward. An arm swept as though encompassing their humbled surroundings, “and you are mistaken about worth and value. But your corpse is safe from me, and you are free to go, if you are content to do so.” He meandered a step backwards, then paused after a moment of idling.

“Although, if you ask me, it seems a crying shame to walk away now.”