After that job, Max decided it was time to do something normal. Or at least, as normal as things ever got in Hell.
Loona had been patient—more patient than most people gave her credit for. Between IMP jobs, near-death incidents, angel run-ins, and Max's tendency to nearly break reality every other week, an actual date had been pushed back again and again.
So when Max finally suggested a proper night out, Loona didn't even pretend to be indifferent.
She'd been wanting to check out a few newer hellhound bars that had popped up in Pride recently. Ever since Beelzebub had started appearing there more often—openly, casually, unapologetically—hellhound-owned establishments had begun cropping up all over the district. Not enough to violate the territorial laws between Rings, but enough to make Pride feel… different.
Less hostile. Less predatory.
They picked one tucked between two old brick buildings, its neon sign flickering with a stylized wolf skull and a low bass hum leaking out onto the street. Inside, the lighting was warm, amber and red, the music loud but not overwhelming.
Max immediately noticed something else.
It felt calm.
Not peaceful—this was still Hell—but relaxed. Hellhounds filled most of the booths and stools, laughing, drinking, arguing over games on wall-mounted screens. No one stared. No one sized him up. No knives slid halfway out of sleeves.
For Pride, that was impressive.
They slid into a booth near the back. Loona leaned back against the seat, tail flicking lazily as she scanned the menu. Max ordered water without hesitation.
"Really?" Loona said, glancing at his glass when it arrived. "You're not even pretending tonight?"
Max shrugged. "Beelzejuice isn't on the menu, and everything else here won't even register. No point wasting money."
Loona snorted and ordered a beer, then paused mid-scan of the menu.
"…Why is there so much human-world meat listed here?"
She turned the menu around so Max could see. Wagyu. Ribeye. Filet. Cuts that shouldn't be easy to get in Hell.
Max frowned slightly as the waiter approached.
"Excuse me," Max said, polite but curious. "How exactly did you manage to source all this?"
The waiter—a tall hellhound with dark fur and a pierced ear—grinned like he'd been waiting for that question.
"Oh, funny story actually," he said. "Turns out Beelzebub has a pretty popular summoning ritual on Earth."
Loona blinked. "Wait—people summon Bee?"
"Yeah," the waiter said, rolling his shoulders. "She hates it. So instead of showing up herself, she redirects the summon and sends one of us."
Max raised an eyebrow. "And you just… go along with it?"
"Mostly," the hellhound replied casually. "Jobs are usually simple. Fetch something. Scare someone. Kill someone. Sometimes all three."
He leaned in slightly. "But between the summoning window and the request? We steal a lot of meat. Plus the offerings people leave behind. Turns out desperate humans give generously."
Loona laughed into her beer.
"And it pays pretty well," the waiter finished. "So. What'll you have?"
Max considered it for a moment, then nodded. "Wagyu. However you prefer to make it."
He placed a generous stack of cash on the table without ceremony.
"I'll take a thirty-two ounce steak," Loona added immediately. "I'm starving."
The waiter gave an approving nod and headed off.
Loona lit a cigarette, exhaling slowly. "Weird," she said. "Place feels almost… normal."
Max nodded, eyes scanning the room. "Yeah. It's one of the quieter pockets of Pride. Doesn't happen often."
She glanced at him sideways. "Still sore from earlier?"
"A bit," he admitted, tapping the shoulder that had taken the holy arrow. "They got lucky. Should be fully healed by tonight."
Loona took another drink. "Hopefully you don't expect us to keep patching you up forever. We've got our own lives, you know."
Max looked at her, genuinely confused. "I never asked any of you to."
She stiffened slightly.
"In fact," he continued evenly, "you've all been sneaking into my room almost every night. Trying to leave before I wake up."
Loona nearly choked on her beer.
"W–what?"
"Bee's the worst about it," Max added calmly. "She's usually drunk and just teleports in. But you do it too."
Loona coughed violently, slamming her drink down as her ears went bright red.
"You—shut up," she hissed, mortified.
Max smiled, amused but not mocking. "Relax. I don't mind."
The food arrived before she could respond.
The steaks were rare—almost raw—still sizzling faintly. The smell alone made Loona grin.
She dug in immediately.
"…Damn," she muttered around a mouthful. "That's actually really good."
Max took a bite of his own. The texture was perfect, the flavor rich. Maybe it was the wolf side of him, but he didn't mind how rare it was at all.
They ate, talked, laughed. No drama. No violence. No emergencies.
An hour later, they stepped back out into Pride's streets.
Loona stretched, looking genuinely relaxed. "Yeah. That didn't suck."
"I'll take that as a win," Max said.
She headed home after that, lighter on her feet, tail swaying as she disappeared down the street.
Max watched her go for a moment before turning away.
He still had work to do.
Specifically, a request waiting from the ruler of Sloth.
And knowing Hell, that was never going to be simple.
[Author: Thanks for the wait. Im going to post a couple chapters in my other story then go back to alternating posting on my stories. Hope you enjoy]