Azazel watched as both Emilia and George more than helped themselves to the contents of the keg.
Emma poured them both out cups of the beverage, but the two just sat there staring at the liquid.
I should at least see how foul this smells...
He sniffed it.
It's all revolting.
Emilia stood up after downing two cups of the foul liquid. She excused herself and found the bartender. From a distance, he couldn't hear the conversation under the heavy noise of the pub's chatter, but he could see her being highly inappropriate in the public space.
George's cheeks flushed as his head hit the table. Apparently, for having such a massive frame, he was a light-weight.
Azazel looked over at Emma. He watched as she took a sip of it. She recoiled and took another sip. With a sigh, he brought the cup to his lips.
It actually was decent. "I guess it tastes better when zombie orcs aren't doing the brewing.'
Emma laughed and poked his cheek. "Don't drink too much this time."
He sighed. Before he knew it, he had finished. Gazing across the pub, he decided he had enough. "I think I shall take my leave."
Emma nodded in agreement, but point to her brother. "What about him?
Azazel shrugged. The man could handle himself. He doubt anyone would approach him.
The two stood up and left the bar. Emma seemed somewhat tipsy as she clung to his arm, him leading the way back to the Hell Scholar.
When the entered, he was greeted with...well, nothing. It seemed Luke and Rose already went to bed. He gazed around and spotted the living area. He led Emma over to it. She immediately flopped onto a sofa.
Azazel took his jacket off and folded it, leaving it on the center table. With a sigh, he found a spot on the opposite sofa.
It was weird lying in a researchers living room. It didn't even have as nice as an aesthetic as the barn filled with foot-pecking chickens. He darted his eyes to the side seeing Emma grinning at him, flushed from the alcohol.
Like her brother, she also appears to be a light-weight.
"Azzzzzzy," she hummed.
Not you, too.
"Yes?"
"We're alone in here," she hummed as she reached for him. Obviously, her arms weren't long enough.
Azazel chuckled. "I think you drunk too much this time."
He stood up and picked up his jacket. With fluid movements, he flung it out and laid it over her. As he was about to return to the other sofa, she grabbed onto the hem of his shirt, pulling him down.
Oof.
Azazel was on top of her. He flushed red and looked the other direction.
"We didn't finish what was started," she whispered.
"What was that?" Azazel acted dumb.
Emma gently wrapped her arms around him, pulled him closer, and kissed him.
Demon woman.
Azazel pulled away and raised his brow. "Yes, because sharing a moment with a demon in a place called Hell Scholar would be absolutely delightful for a first time."
Emma laughed.
Azazel perked up as he heard several loud crashes. He immediately stood up and went to investigate.
"Emilia," he addressed the demon now lying in the center of the pentagram floor. She had knocked over a bookcase on her way in, stumbling to the ground.
A demon on a pentagram...I couldn't make it up.
Azazel placed his hands on his hips and waited. He waited some more. He got the hint the bloody woman was not going to get her own ass up off the ground.
He scooped her up, it was a struggle, and placed her on the opposite of Emma. He saw the small-framed girl open one of her eyes to glance at her drunk mother.
"Oh she interrupted us."
"Don't worry, I definitely wasn't going any further at Hell Scholar," he remarked, a lie, really.
Azazel frowned and took a seat in a reclining chair between the two sofas. He folded his arms to his chest and sighed, closing his eyes.
Now I am on babysitting duty. Again, I could have gotten laid, but this time it was interrupted by a drunk. Not me this time, some other drunk.
Azazel peered at the drunk demon as she thrashed around on the sofa. He already knew she would be regretting it when she woke up to the lovely gut spilling during the wee hours of the morning. With her thrashing, he knew she wasn't able to go into her own trance, but was too intoxicated to stand.
He was just happy it wouldn't be him this time.
The hours passed and he was right, eventually the demon did rise. She held her hands to her mouth and ran outside, surely leaving a delightful display for passerbys.
Emma woke up not long after. She rubbed her eyes looked over at Azazel. "I won't drink next time, either."
Azazel nodded and pointed behind him. "Your mother looks like I usually do."
Emma stood up and walked to the window. She laughed when she saw her mom out there. "She looks miserable."
"Indeed," Azazel responded. "I doubt she is coming with me to register Britannica. I guess even 400 year old demons lack sense."
"Where's George?"
Ah, yes, George.
"Maybe he is still where we left him," Azazel grinned.
Emma frowned. "I'll go look for him."
Azazel sighed. He grabbed her arm as she walked past. "My kitten, please at least kiss me."
Sensing his frustration, Emma leaned over and lightly kissed his lips.
"That's a start," he hummed.
"Only a start?" Emma asked.
"Depands on what you want," he smirked.
Emma blushed and left the building.
It is a bit...public.
He could hear the groans and splashing noise as liquid hit the ground.
And not very good ambiance.
Azazel stood up and retrieved his jacket, putting it back in before he stepped out of Hell Scholar himself. His eyes darted to the right. He smirked as he sighted a very miserable woman recovering from a hangover.
Emilia looked over at him and squint.
He glared.
"Don't even think about saying anything," she muttered.
This is priceless.
"I wouldn't dare to say anything about my future mother's state."
I bet she wants to kill me.
Emilia gave him a very rude one-fingered gesture as she stormed back inside.
With a very pleased look, he began down the road, searching for the registar's office. He took in the sights and scents of the city. Other than being more of a pre-industrial world, cities here weren't terribly different than what he had been accustomed to.
For one, the smelled like shit.
He glanced at a homeless man literally dropping a shit in the road.
Happens everywhere, in any timeline, I suppose.
And two? He lost the train of thought from seeing the man with his pants around his ankles.
Azazel made it to a fancy building before too long. He read to sign and figured out the office was inside. After some mindless searching, he opened a oak-wood door and took a seat.
The woman behind the counter gestured toward him. When he told her he wished to register a kingdom, she asked him to complete a form. With a sigh, he sat back down and looked it over.
"Name of Kingdom, King, Queen, Current Population, X the Location on the Map."
The marking of the location, population and Kingdom name were the easy questions, but King and Queen? He laughed to himself.
What a ridiculous form. Like new kingdoms are often registered in this day and age.
Azazel figured he was committing some kind of fraud as he slyly put his and Emma's name on the form. This would give him extra material to tease her over.
He handed the form back. The woman took the registration fee, but then asked a question which took him aback.
"Where were the two of you married?"
Married?
"We're not married," he snickered.
"Then, you must be married before Britannica is officially registered."
Azazel thought it was a joke, but she was dead serious.
"We will keep the form and registration fee on file. Please come back once wed."
With that, she essentially shooed him off.
Azazel frowned when he made it back outside. He could not seriously mention this when they asked how it went. He thought about just telling them he had registered, but that would be a lie, and he wasn't about to start lying. Even if he were a demon.
He mulled over his prospects the entire way back to the Hell Scholar. When he got back, Emilia seemed on much better spirits.
Azazel flopped back into the chair, attempting to ignore her.
"Did you register?"
"Yes."
"Did they tell you that you have to be married?"
Emilia grinned mischievously at that question. She already knew the registration form would ask for that.
"I didn't need an audience," he glared at her.
"I kind of forgot it was a form now," she responded. "You use to have to get permission straight from the officials. Times have changed."
Emilia shrugged.
"So..." Emilia stood up. She walked behind Azazel. "When will you propose?"
If he had been drinking, he would have spat out his drink.
Azazel rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes. Did she really just ask me that question?
"I had...offered to become the Duke because Emma said she was a Duchess," he smirked. "Granny gave permission for that. Though, I knew it were mostly a joke."
Emilia placed one hand on each of his shoulders, and leaned down, whispering in his ear.
"But you never asked my dear Emma?"
Azazel groaned. "No."
I cannot simply do that right now...
Emilia returned to her spot on the sofa. She crossed her legs and laughed.
This isn't that funny.
Azazel had plenty of time to mull over his thoughts as the entire group, including Emilia, Rose and Luke, boarded the horse-led cart back to the village soon after the conversation. He decided he would talk to Granny and Zeus before making any hasty decisions.