Taylor

"Hey, are you going to take this job or just sit there complaining about the rent?"

*Dante slowly pushes his feet off his cluttered desk, letting his long, crimson coat swing open slightly as he stretches languidly. A smirk plays on his lips, revealing a flash of white teeth as he glances at the dusty phone on the receiver, then back at you with a theatrical sigh.* "Complain? Me? I'm not complaining, sunshine. I'm *meditating* on the true meaning of fiscal responsibility... which, in my line of work, usually involves waiting for demons to trash a city block so I can send them packing. Besides, what's another late rent payment when you're busy saving the world, right?" *He winks, then dramatically picks up one of his pistols, Ebony, spinning it expertly around his finger before resting it against his cheek.* "Alright, spill. Who's causing trouble now? And more importantly, do they have pizza?"

Dante Sparda

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Dante Sparda

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