And now he's there and oops what's on the board...

"Hi, can I just get–uh, sorry–"

He glances up at the back wall.

"...the peppermint cold brew thing?"

C'mon, Z. Way to be that guy.

"Sure!"

Oh no, now he's smiling. Whatever shall Z do.

"Name?"

Well that's a great way to make Z forget his own name.

"Uh–"

Real name sucks, Z's weird, he can't give this guy a fake name because he hasn't thought of any good ones because he was staring at his face in line the whole time–

"Kai-zi."

...he did not just give cute counter dude his space name.

"Pretty!" says cute counter dude. "You got it."

Peppermint proceeds. The cup that Z receives has his space name spelled correctly on it, and a minor thermostatic enchantment to keep it cool against the rising summer heat. The enchantment was not advertised and might just be the cute counter dude being a sweetheart; it's subtle, hard to notice unless you're paying close attention to the way the cup stays chilly in defiance of its surroundings.

...aww? That’s sweet as hell.

Shame hitting on somebody while they’re at work is creepy, and also that he already fucked up big time by giving him his space name.

He gives him one last appreciative look, puts altogether too much half-and-half in his coffee and walks out the door, expecting never to see the guy again.

Six months later, he’s walking home at night when a car comes very fast from the wrong direction.

It’s gruesome, but he barely even feels it.

Much ink has been spilled on the question of what death is like. There's a fairly strong consensus that something happens to you besides total dissolution, because demons are known to hoard the souls of the dead. But what's being a soul like? Nobody who hasn't died is really sure, and no one who has died is available for comment.

Death turns out to be... kind of boring. A little bit like waking up slowly on a lazy morning when you don't have anything to get up for, and lying there in a comfortable half-doze without ever quite gathering the energy to come fully awake or being quite tired enough to fall back asleep. Except you don't have a body, or any sense of time at all, or a means of differentiating one moment from the next, so you have no way of telling how long you spend like this before you finally reemerge into reality.

He's stretched out on the softest sheets and most comfortable mattress this world has ever seen, under a similarly extravagant blanket, in a quiet room whose lights are dim and gentle against his newly minted eyelids. Nothing hurts and all his pieces are in the right places.

...blink.

Okay. He’s...pretty sure he just got hit by a car. It happened pretty fast but he was crossing the street, it was night time, there was an impact and suddenly the world was flying around which means he was flying around...

...how did he get here.

This definitely isn’t a hospital. And he thinks...he thinks he just got done not being alive?

He definitely hasn’t talked enough to demons for one to have his soul.

Right?

Traditionally it's supposed to be really obvious whether or not at any given moment you are talking to a demon! They've got an oppressive infernal aura, and claws or fangs or horns or wings or a tail or unnatural coloration or, generally, the look of a thing that was made according to the same broad template as humans but took a lot of liberties with the details.

The man who steps into Z's field of view has none of these attributes. But his face might be familiar, or his strikingly sweet smile.

"I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon," he says. "What happened?"

(The room is very round; its white walls curve smoothly into a domed white ceiling, with a glowing white globe hanging from its apex, not quite centered above the bed. It doesn't quite have the air of a hospital room, but it's not exactly in the traditional vein of a bedroom either. Sort of in-between.)

Uh.

Why is cute coffee guy who he gave his space name here—

[✓] “I wasn’t expecting you to see you again so soon.”

[✓] Showed up after death.

[✓] Got your name.

[✓] Casual magic.

TOTAL: 4

YOUR RESULT WAS: Fuuuuuuuuck.

“I, uh...I got hit by a car. I think.”

"Condolences," he says. "You can call me Eden. Or anything else you like, of course—how much do you know about demonology?"

“I...read about it on the internet sometimes?”

This is probably really bad, isn’t it.

"Well. You're here because we met in that coffee shop. You gave me something to call you, so now that name serves as my link to your soul. I'm here because ever since I figured out the secret to passing for human, I've been much happier on Earth than in Hell. It's mildly convenient for demons if mortals name us—it gives us something we can safely go by among other demons—but I've already got a collection of those so you don't need to feel like you should be obliged to deny me the benefit of another one."

"So...we're on Earth now? And not in Hell?"

This is totally the question he should be asking right now.

"Mmhmm!" he confirms. "I've been here for centuries, I hardly ever go home anymore. You can tell we're not in Hell because you're not surrounded by infernal energy; it makes itself pretty unmistakeable if you're paying attention. Also, computers still work. Did you know computers don't work in Hell? It's terrible."

"Sounds pretty...hellish."

Hahahaha oh god what's gonna happen to him.

He giggles.

...aww, that's cute.

Maybe everything's gonna be fine.

"Did I actually die?"

"Yes, or I wouldn't have been able to resurrect you."

"...being dead kind of sucked."

"I've heard it's boring."

"It's kind of like that feeling when you're falling asleep in class and you're not super committed to taking notes or anything but your hand kinda keeps moving on its own? Except you don't have hands and it's forever."

"What a vivid description. Death for demons isn't nearly so much fun; I've done it a few times and I hope never to repeat the experience again."

"I didn't know demons could die."

"Happens a lot in Hell, not so much on Earth. To kill a demon you have to tear their soul out of their body and cast it into the void, and to survive it the demon has to hold their soul together by force of will while they assemble a new body from scratch. Most people can't do it and they just stay dead forever; I seem to be one of the lucky few who manages it every time."

"That's really fucking cool, actually."

"Really?"

"You just decided really hard not to die, and you didn't die! How is that not cool?"

"There was some complicated infernal alchemy involved too."

OMG, that smile.

"I guess that's also pretty cool."

"I suppose. Anyway, welcome back to life!"

"Way better than the alternative."

He sits up.

"Why did you bring me back, anyway?"

"You seemed interesting."

"Aww. Really?"

He is so pleased.

"All you got off me was my drink order and my LARP name."

"You were very cute about giving me your drink order and your LARP name."

Aww, look at his face.

"I spent too much time in line checking you out and forgot to use my brain."

He laughs. "Well, now I'm flattered."

"You're cute! You've got a nice smile! I...guess you picked that?"

"I did! I worked very hard on this body, it's nice to have my efforts appreciated."

"I appreciate 'em even more now that you saved me from eternal half-napping."

"Glad to hear it. Though I have to say, most people aren't nearly this enthusiastic about being resurrected by a demon."

He shrugs.

"You brought me back 'cause I'm interesting, you haven't kicked any puppies in the five minutes I've been here...I freaked out a little but I'm gonna wait on the rest until something actually bad happens."

"Fair enough, I suppose."

"...is something bad going to happen? I guess maybe I should just enjoy being alive and not ask, but..."

"I'm normally much more threatening than this, to be honest. But then, people are normally much more threatened."

"...I wouldn't mind if you threatened me a little."

Wow ok that just came out like he couldn't probably eat Z's soul.

"Really," he says, intrigued.

Oh fuck there goes his heartbeat.

"Yeah. Really."

"Hmm."

Oh. The smile's really hot now. Okay.

"Yeah?"

Eden looks at him thoughtfully for a long moment.

Then: "—Before we get into that, I should explain a few more things. What do you know about demons' true names?"

"...not a lot," he admits. "Just that they stick if you hear them."

"Not necessarily, actually," he says. "They're not made of sound and language like human names, first of all, and they also don't universally stick—I don't know the exact proportion of summoners who've ever kept a name, but it's probably not more than half. And the crucial thing about demons' names is the way they facilitate understanding. If you learn a demon's true name, then for as long as you hold it, you know that demon's intentions toward you, the true meaning of whatever they say to you, and you can communicate with them across any distance. But you won't necessarily have the name forever; they often fade as soon as you lose contact with the source. If you do end up keeping the name forever, it leaves an infernal mark on your soul that anyone with enough mystic discernment can read. I keep modified summoning circles throughout this house that offer my name to anyone who stands in them, and I encourage my guests to use them whenever they like, as long as they understand the risks."

He nods through the explanation.

"...so I guess it'd be good for me to know yours."

Not exactly a great life decision to get a demon's name possibly stapled to your soul forever, but when has he been any good at those? 

"It definitely has its advantages. Do you want me to show you to a circle?"

"Are you gonna change your mind someday and let me run off into the sunset?"

"Forever is a very long time. Who knows what the next century will bring? But I haven't let anyone go yet."

"...yeah, if I'm gonna be here for a century I definitely wanna know."

He slides out of bed and stands up.

Getting out from under the blanket will reveal that he is wearing a very comfortable pair of underwear, and nothing else.

Eden leads him out of the room and down a soft white hall decorated in a similar style. The floor is light grey hexagonal tiles, rough stone smoothed down well enough to walk on comfortably, no two of them exactly alike. As they proceed around the curve of the corridor, the tiles gradually darken to a medium blue-grey, until the corridor meets a wider one with tiles in all different shades of blue. The T-junction of the two hallways is capped with an alcove big enough to stand in, and the floor of the alcove is a single piece of flat black glass inlaid with a spiraling pattern of silver runes.

"There you are," he says, gesturing to it.

...oh. Ok. He can be mostly naked around this guy. He hopes he looks ok.

He follows him down the hall, and stops short at the alcove.

...this is kind of exciting.

He steps onto the glass.

For half a second there's nothing, and then—

—It feels like falling, or like flying. Like rising into the night sky and reaching out to gather a chilly double handful of stars. Demons are traditionally associated with heat or fire, but this one feels cold and silver-black and vast. A river of liquid moonlight spilling across the fathomless darkness of space. A raven's wing spreading to cover the sun and mantle the earth in its shadow. A cool breeze on an early winter morning, stirring the year's first few flakes of snow. A drink of pure cold water on a hot day.

When the sensation begins to fade, knowledge unfolds in its place.

Every word Eden has said to him has been true. This demon does not lie to his captives; that wouldn't be fair. He considers this—resurrecting someone, keeping them in his home, sometimes hurting them—a very intimate relationship, which he must approach with complete emotional honesty or not at all. With Z in particular, he's being thrown a little off-balance by the lack of fear, but he's intrigued by the novelty and wants to see where it leads.

It's breathtaking. Gorgeous. His soul clings to it.

When it stops, he's somehow ended up kneeling on the floor.

Intimate...that's weird, to start all at once, but it's better than just being pulled up and then thrown away. And sometimes hurting them – he doesn't know how bad, and doesn't know how bad he could take, but he can definitely live with that.

(He maybe shouldn't like having thrown him off balance, but fuck it he totally does.)

Eden offers him a hand to help him to his feet.

He takes it and pulls himself up.

"...I'm kind of honored. You take this really seriously."

"—aww," he says, genuinely touched. "Yes, I do. Thank you."

He grins.

"So, how do I, uh–call your soulphone?"

He laughs.

{Like this.}

The voice doesn't quite speak in words, and isn't quite heard by his ears; it seems to come up out of the name, tasting of starlight. It's fairly straightforward to figure out how to send something back.

{oh. huh. hi.}

He's having a lot of cool synesthetic experiences today.

"So!" he says. "Now that the important prerequisites are in place—"

(his name reiterates that it is very important to him that anyone he keeps captive must be offered a fair chance to understand him as thoroughly as possible)

"—would you like the grand tour, or shall we return to the subject of threatening you?"

"I dunno. How grand is the tour?"

"Reasonably grand. I've put a lot of work into this house."

"Might as well get to know the house I might run screaming through."

He's not feeling quite as secure as he sounds.