"Come now, chérie. I own this palace, I could go anywhere I like. Though if you don't mind, I might take the armchair tonight?" he suggests, flexing out his wings as he stretches his body, sending a series of pops clicking down his back. Inwardly I wince.
I suppose it is quite the miracle that someone as old as he is- some thousands of years or so (though at this point it would probably hardly matter to him), that he is still in the peak physical condition that he is. Aside from a few cracking joints, the Devil seems to have fared rather well, though I can hardly say the same for myself. Then again, perhaps comparing myself to an immortal, near god creature isn't the wisest thing to do.
"The arm chair?" I snicker with an incredulous laugh. Fiddling with the cuffs of my shirt, I snort a little. It would seem Valerian never ceases to amuse me- the arm chair, really? Whoever willingly chooses to sleep on that!
