Basket Case
[From Personality Switch Plot]

Juliet sipped at her hot chocolate, her hands wrapped around the take-away cup. That alone amused her a little. Normally she didn't like the cardboard, preferred the firm lip of a proper mug, or even one of those travel ones she would get if she didn't have time to sit down and drink it. But today she didn't really care. It was weird, but she really didn't care about that either.

Her fingers felt the sleeve of the leather jacket, the soft texture showing the quality and she folded the lapel back to take a look at the lining. She'd torn the one she'd been wearing out on patrol a few night's earlier, Rhiannon's comment that the 'job' was a bitch when it came to clothes being proven right again. Normally Juliet would have had the jacket to the tailor the family had used for things like this for decades, but she'd not had time and now couldn't be bothered.

"Can I help you Miss Winters?" the shop assistant had asked when Juliet first entered the store. "Just checking out your coats," Juliet had answered nonchalantly which had caused the briefest of blinks from the assistant. Normally the young Winters would state exactly what she was after, describing it and the size with a clear, decisive voice.

"Certainly," the assistant had replied and led the young heiress across to the rack, being waved away eventually as Juliet had started to browse. "There are also some in the window if you would like me to get those for you," he'd said. "No, it's fine, I can take a look at them there," Juliet had replied, waving the assistant away.

At first the young man had been hesitant, more familiar with the 'other' Juliet, unsure whether she really was just happy to browse. Finally he slowly edged away, Juliet wandering back outside to take a look at the coats on the mannequins in the store's display window.

The scarf was silk with a multitude of brightly colored, gossamer threads woven into it. The predominant hues were purples and blues, which lent it an ethereal sadness, Darian thought. It reminded him of a bruise. In a way, humans could be as delicate as the fabric he held. Taking time to truly reflect on that, he brushed his thumb over it and thought of Bethany.

Under normal circumstances, the demon wouldn't be caught dead in a mall. He hadn't the need to shop, able to supply himself the necessary wardrobe through mystical means, or at least employ a tailor. But something about it had drawn him there today, in search of a gift for his lover. He felt a certain isolation from everyone around him, which normally would've been pleasing, but currently left him thinking about how alone a person could be, even in the middle of a crowd.

Dissatisfied with the scarf, because it wasn't her style, he turned around, eying the rest of the boutique in moody disappointment.

As Juliet looked back into the store, idly tossing up the choice of coats she saw what she realised was a familiar face. Darian? A small frown creased her forehead as the surprise, which normally would have been immediately followed by shock and some wariness, quickly dissipated, not even replaced with curiosity. If she had to pick the last person in the world she would expect to see in a place like this it would have to have been Darian. The man... or as she now knew, demon, was the most unlikely candidate for 'browsing' a boutique of this type she could imagine, and the purpose of her own trip there was quickly forgotten.

Rhiannon had warned Juliet, in no uncertain terms, about both her employer, Bethany, and her 'partner', Darian. "Don't be fooled by him, he's got abilities you can't imagine and they're not what you want to be fooling with," she'd told the young Slayer, explaining more and finally convincing the curious and driven young protege to keep her distance and not continue her own 'first hand' research with those two.

But now he was here, in the same store, and while her curiosity wasn't at its normal height it was still a rather huge coincidence. And what on earth was he looking at? Silk scarves? Oh that had to be something worth finding out about, even if just for her and Rhi to have a giggle over.

She pushed the door open again and re-entered the store, the assistant looking up and starting toward Juliet. But her path didn't take her back to where the racks of coats were, but to the other side of the shop, where the tall, handsome stranger was studying the exquisite silk scarves the young assistant had put out on display only just that morning.

"Darian?" Juliet's head was to one side as she looked up at the much taller man... demon.

"Oh. Hey." The informality of his speech was notable, but rather than seeming casual with her, he just looked despondent. Darian put his hands in his trouser pockets. He was wearing a suit, the jacket unbuttoned, the tie loosened until it could barely be considered knotted. Circling round a rack of blouses, equally unimpressed with those, he seemed prepared to dismiss her out of hand, but a light bulb went off above his head.

Interest refueled, he asked, "How are things at work? I haven't spoken to Bethany in a few days. I'm afraid I'm... out of touch." Tilting his head of a sudden, he separated the clothes, their hangers screeching on the metal bar. Another item had caught his eye, this one a black silk top with a scooped neckline.

Darian got a negative look and backed away from the apparel, rubbing his jaw. Since when had he bought the Slayer clothing? Jewelry, yes. Exotic weapons, yes. Fashion was not his expertise. He was much better at taking clothes off Bethany than selecting what went on her. He had a dim realization of that and used it to put distance between himself and a potentially bad idea.

Juliet managed to stop staring at Darian within a few seconds of starting, though she doubted he'd have even noticed, his attention having been rather more closely directed to the clothes on the rack. Which in and of itself was weird. Rhi had told her he could conjure up just about anything, and he was usually so well dressed that everything he wore had to have been tailor-made, not from a rack. Which was why it had surprised her to see him in a store in the first place.

And really, how dangerous could it be to talk to the boss's hottie other half when he was obviously so distracted. Rhi couldn't have meant times like this, surely. After all, how often did he ever appear like this?

When he pulled back from the rack, the look of horror on his face almost comical in its intensity, Juliet managed to smother the giggle that threatened. He really did look cute when he looked so horrified.

"Umm, it's a really nice top," she told him, wondering if he was just not sure and picking the hanger up, draping the soft black silk over her arm. "Look, see?" she added, smiling as she put the hanger over the back of her head and the garment resting against her, the figure-hugging pale cream turtle-neck cashmere sweater she was wearing allowing the black silk to fall into its intended shape.

He actually reconsidered. Then, pressing his tongue into his cheek, he grunted and turned away, leaving Juliet with the garment slung around her neck. Bethany had the money to buy herself clothes of exactly her liking, whenever she wanted. Darian's gifts to her were sentimental instead, though considering what those sharp hairpins were used for, oddly so.

"It looks nice on you." The compliment was given because he didn't want to hurt her feelings.

The demon scrubbed a loose fist at his chest; was it possible to get heartburn when you hadn't eaten? The dull ache in his ribcage couldn't otherwise be explained. "I woke up with this," he fumbled for the words and swallowed, as if tasting something terrible. "Bad feeling. It's like a gaping chest wound, only nothing's happened. It penetrates my soul."

Darian looked at the young Slayer, confusion writ on his face. "I don't have a soul."

Continuing to circle the items on display, he asked, "If you're not at work, what are you doing at a shopping mall after dark? Shouldn't be you out having a social life?"

Juliet only just managed not to stare at the demon. He'd said more to her in that one string of comments than she'd ever heard him say before, except perhaps at the New Year's Eve gig, and that sure hadn't been to her, but to the other demon there, Sonya. She unhooked the top and returned it to the rack without a second glance, her eyes darting to Darian's face. Rhiannon's warnings about the demon boyfriend of her employer were rattling around in her head but right now she was finding she didn't care. In fact she didn't care about finding much about him at all, and the whole 'gaping chest wound' and all kinda tweaked her. She couldn't remember if Rhiannon had told her that his kind of demon could be put away with a stake through the chest.

"I needed a new coat, this place usually has the best choice, but nothing's really grabbing my eye," she replied nonchalantly, waving a hand vaguely in the direction of the coats. "And social lives are over-rated. Or at least working nights makes them that way," she added, realising that indeed her own social life had gone from flat out to zilch since she'd met Rhiannon. Almost every night was spent either patrolling, or patrolling and working.

"It is all rather plebeian." Darian lifted the cuff of a cashmere sweater to accentuate his point. "Then again, we're in a shopping mall. It's a veritable hub of conformity." And that seemed to be the worst crime of all, even worse than moderate quality and reasonable prices. The mainstream sameness of it.

"You picked an odd time to buy a coat, anyway. It's almost spring. I prefer winter... it's barren and decayed." He recognized his verbosity (dimly, too, his current flare for melodrama) and let go of the sweater. Darian made his way toward the door, but found that he'd rather Juliet accompanied him. At least he'd have someone on whom he could impart his heavy thoughts.

Going back to the subject of Juliet's non-existent social life, because of working hours, he asked, "Do your friends ever watch you dance?"

Even in the few times she'd spoken with him she'd never heard this sort of thing. Well, if she was honest she'd hardly really spoken much with him, so the whole actual conversing thing was almost off-putting, but the emoting? And the misery he was imparting? She wondered why she hadn't ever noticed, but not for long. After all, why bother?

"Some have dropped by, yeah," she answered, meandering across the store in the direction he'd taken toward the door. She'd lost interest in getting herself a new coat, the one she had would suffice for the time being, which in the back of her mind almost set off alarm bells, but they were muted and easily ignored.

"They reckon it spoils them for any other places so they leave it till last port of call," she added with a small laugh as they exited the store.

"Why is that?" Darian had a feeling he knew what she'd say, but wanted her to vocalize it anyway. Out in the wide hallway, where soft music filtered through speakers and the chatter of late shoppers, he started walking northward. He wasn't familiar with the floorplan and so it was a meandering path. Along the way, he got out a cellular phone and checked the screen. No messages. He used the keys to type out a text, then closed the device instead of sending it.

Although only he knew the content of the unsent message, he was vaguely chagrined at himself, but the voice of dry-witted, hard-hearted wisdom got stuck in the emotive sludge that had taken over his brain.

"Because we're the best, of course!" 'Sugar' answered, head cocked to one side, but soon straightening as the demon walked off and started sending a text before she had even answered. Normally she'd have turned and walked off at the rudeness but instead she found herself hurrying after him, frowning and a little pissed off.

"Hey, you ask a question you can at least hang around for the answer!" she told him, reaslising as she said it it was so against her usual grain that it sounded weird even to her. Especially him. God Rhiannon was going to flay her, but she didn't care. So what if he was Bethany's squeeze, what was he going to do? Get all miserable? When she had that thought she screwed up her face a little and wondered if that would be worse than what she'd been led to believe he was really like. So much for Mr Cool, Calm and Sophisticated. What had Rhiannon been on?

"And like I have to tell you anyway, because you know we're the best!"

Darian stopped in the middle of foot traffic, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. He appeared to be holding something in, maybe words, maybe an emotional reaction. He held up his hand to stop her speaking and shut his eyes. After a couple of seconds, a weird half-sob tore out of his throat.

"Ugh... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to diminish you. You... you're beautiful." He squeezed his thumb and forefinger over his eyelids, trying to forcefully shove... what, tears back into the ducts? Good fucking christ, what was the matter with him? He crossed his arms. Even in the sleeves of his suit, they looked enormous. "It's just... why hasn't she called? It's been hours!" The pain of sure rejection tore through him like a spear. "I worry. Have you ever been in love with someone?"

Now Juliet's mouth did fall open. Her eyes were wide with surprise at first, and then shock. The shoppers meandering the mall moved around them but were inconsequential as she stared at the demon. With a quick cough she closed her mouth, eyes darting from one side to the other then back to him.

"Uh, yeah, I guess," she answered, not sure he was really wanting an answer, but figuring she had better say something. He didn't even appear to be listening he was so lost in this misery and Juliet was starting to worry. "You mean Bethany, right?" she asked, figuring she better at least have the right picture. Did demons do more than one at a time? She figured probably not when it came to having one of them being someone like the Slayer, but she didn't really know the dating etiquette of demons, it wasn't covered in the books Hayden had loaned her and she really needed to remember that question for him when he came over.

She dragged her attention back to the tall figure towering over her and realised he really was tearing up. Holy crap! "When did you last hear from her?" she asked, trying not to crack up laughing that it was exactly the sort of question she would ask one of her girlfriends when she was stressing out over some new guy.

"I don't know." Darian's muscles tightened as he closed in on himself, moving from one sour expression to the next with the rapidity of images in a slideshow. "Two? Three this afternoon?" This mild insult was made more unusual by the couple's general habit of going days or even weeks without speaking to one another, then coming together like a high-speed collision. Why he found it so unnerving, he didn't know.

"And of course I mean Bethany," he said as an afterthought. "How could I look at anyone else?"

He covered his face and wiped his palms up and down, as if his torment could be erased. Emerging more composed, he gave it a few seconds before attempting conversation. "Juliet, I'm not normally like this," he said, confusion in his eyes. "I just woke up this morning and the world had become this... abyss of suffering. I don't mean for them, I couldn't give a fuck about them." He indicated the other shoppers with a jerky movement of his head. "For me."

At least that was one quality that hadn't changed. The Dealmaker cared very little for anything that didn't involve himself. On regular days, it was a function of having no empathy. Tonight, it seemed to be ego-centrism at work.

"You're a fantastic dancer," he said, switching gears.

She felt a little relief that at least they were on the same page re the person, that it was Bethany. Not that she cared, she found, something that also puzzled her. When he admitted to not being normally like this, that he'd woken that morning and found it all happening, she thought back briefly, figuring that it was pretty much the same for her. Oh crap, not again! But she didn't care. Much.

But the demon in front of her? Apparently did, more so now than ever before, and that was almost freaky. When he declared that he didn't give a fuck about anyone, even himself, she seriously thought about taking a step back, as it seemed like a smart idea to put some more space between them, but his final comment stopped her.

"Uh, thanks." I think. He'd noticed? Now that was scary. A conversational redirection was about due. "So are you shopping for something for Bethany?" she asked, managing to keep a calm look on her face and not loop her arm through his and start him walking.

"Well, I wasn't planning to stop in Pac-Sun and buy myself board shorts," he said. Where he had picked up knowledge of the store and its apparel, he wasn't certain. Perhaps commercials, or while rummaging through the contents of clients' brains, looking for weaknesses to exploit. "I thought I could distract myself, but I can see now it won't work. I should call her. Perhaps stop by the club."

A couple of male teenagers walked by. In a face that peered out from under longish, black and red hair, Darian thought he recognized something of his own state of mind, but dismissed it out of hand when he noticed a lip-ring and eyeliner.

"Oh god. What if that piece of shit assistant of hers is there? Ralphael." He pronounced the name with the venom that some people ascribed to child molesters, scientologists, and personal injury lawyers. "How she tolerates his sycophantic begging, I cannot comprehend. He's like a well-groomed dog on his hind legs, hoping his mistress will drop a treat." A beat passed. "I'd like to kill him."

That made Juliet's mouth drop open again, but at least this time she had moved to Darian's side and started the man walking. Ralphael had never given her any reason to think of him like that, but then she was just one of the dancers, and not the boss. And Darian was the boss's boyfriend and oh boy, was he in a mess! She saw the look he gave the emo kid and she wondered for a moment, glancing back up at his eyes and breathing a sigh of relief when she confirmed there was no eyeliner there. Though he would look good with a touch of it... christ what was she thinking? Stay on task, Juliet, you're now walking through a mall with your arm through the arm of a demon you've been warned to stay away from by Rhiannon, who is the boyfriend of your bad Slayer boss...

What was it he had said about Raphael? He wanted to kill him??

"Darian, I don't think you need worry about Ralphael. He's not Bethany's type. I mean hell, she has you, so why would she even give him the time of day except instruction on what she wants done around the Club?" What the hell was she doing? Giving advice to an emotionally unstable demon. Yeah, real smart. But so what? She really didn't have a clue what was going on, but she was at least aware enough of things to realise that this really wasn't normal. She just didn't really care.

"Well-groomed dogs do have their uses, especially as assistants," she added.

"Some dogs need to be put down," he countered.

The fact that he had his own obnoxious assistant was of little relevance, as far as the Dealmaker was concerned, because his assistant didn't sexually fantasize about him. Ralphael had 'the look' whenever Bethany got particularly authoritative. It wouldn't surprise Darian if the second-in-command at Devil's Own, who looked like a blonde Sears catalog model, had a closet full of submission equipment in his apartment, just hoping for the day. Imagining him polishing the buckles and locks gave him a migraine.

The hallway grew more sparsely populated as they neared a department store, and as the mall neared its closing hour. He checked his cell phone again, under the guise of looking for the time.

"I need to go," he said, because it had crossed his mind that Juliet might be in cahoots with Ralphael. After all, they were coworkers. It wouldn't make him happy if word of his misty moment got back to the ears of the Slayer's staff. He had a reputation. "Let's keep this conversation between you and me."

She really didn't think he meant that she not tell Rhiannon, and even if he did she didn't care. She'd be telling her mentor everything. Well, everything she could remember, because this? Was something she was having trouble believing herself and she was there! But she didn't care, it would be a good giggle anyway.

"Sure, just you and me," she told him, the fingers of one hand crossed and the forefinger of her other hand tapping the side of her nose to confirm the conspiratorial nature of this encounter.

"No dogs," she added, managing only just to keep from giggling at the absurdity of it all. She unhooked her arm and gave him a smile. "And you just stop that worrying, I'm sure your girl only has eyes for you, and she'll be calling as soon as she has a minute." Or the inclination... Juliet smiled and gave him a little finger wave, turning to head toward the door that led to where she parked the car.

Darian headed for the sliding exit doors. It wasn't necessary to walk all the way outside before doing his disappearing act, but at the moment, he was too emotionally drained to attempt much more than plot along.