At my remark, Valerian chuckles to himself, brushing his fingers carelessly over the knife strapped to his calf. It's obvious from the wide smirk on his face that he realises my comment it who heartedly in jest, but he gives me an answer anyway, perhaps to satisfy my burning curiosity.
"Oh, I certainly wouldn't dream of stabbing you, chérie. You are in safe hands. But my associates, however, are very rowdy and often need a little incentive to keep themselves under control," he adds with a wink, seeming to imply he is joking, but there is a more stern tone in his voice that seems to suggest otherwise.
It is no secret that the demon lords and ladies of hell are rather a handful to say the least- even my meeting with Dreyfus and Tarquin was filled with ups and downs, largely due to their blatant suspicion of me. But although they have come to settle on the fact I am both genuine and mean no harm to them, I cannot guarantee that same notion will be true of the others.
