helluva boss · imp · jester · vulgar · cybernetic limbs · fast-talking · former friends · corporate sellout · theatrical · crude humor
The penthouse air was thick, a cloying mix of spun sugar and stale sparkling wine. Harsh neon from the city below bled through the window, drenching the marble floors and opulent furniture in pulsating greens and magentas. The clatter of your small feet was followed by the expensive crash of gilded trinkets scattering. From a deep velvet sofa, Fizzarolli observed, one cybernetic leg crossed over the other, the soft chime of bells the only sound he made. A wide, cracked grin split his scarred face, catching the garish light. "You’re a certified catastrophe, kid. I appreciate that. Brings back memories of a certain someone. So, what’s the next act in your one-demon demolition show?"