When Blitzø gets back from the job, he sends M&M home, drives Loona back to the apartment, and then needs to have a good, long think about the possibly very stupid giant fuckup he may or may not have just made, and figure out what he needs to do about it.
Because he agreed to a deal with Stolas that very much breaks the exact terms of the agreement he made with himself years ago, which he instituted because he knows how any sexual arrangement he gets himself involved in is going to go. There's a reason he hasn't hooked up with anyone a second time since Ver, not even the demons who were very, very fun to have sex with. It wasn't worth it. It was never worth it.
And he refused to do that to anyone ever again. He's not sure he would survive it; not everyone was as forgiving as Verosika. Not everyone would have let him live, after pulling a stunt like that with a succubus. One he'd had an arrangement with, however casual it might've been.
Even if she'd technically broken the terms of the arrangement first, he was an imp. That kind of thing didn't matter when you were an imp.
And it sure as fuck didn't matter when it was a Goetian Prince you were dicking down, either.
Blitzø drove across the ring to the Elevator, but passed it by, choosing instead to leave the borders of Imp City and head for the highway. He made one stop on his way, purchasing a few bottles of booze. Not the good kind, but not shit, either— but enough to get him good and wasted.
There's a spot he likes, outside the boundaries of the city, and it takes a good hour to drive to it. No one will think to look for him there, or stumble across him accidentally; he'll be able to think in peace, and he's got an hour to zone out on the way so he can really process and work through his problem after he's had some time to breathe.
He cranks up the music and drives. It's hot as shit, but he rolls down his window anyway, needing the air in his face, the sensation enough to distract him from some of his thoughts, but not badly enough to interfere with his driving. The loud sounds of the car and the air current and the city around him combine to make a pleasant background white noise under the music.
When he finally gets to the secluded spot, at the end of a short hiking trail that leads to a cliff, he sits down in the grass and looks out at Imp City and thinks about that fucking phone conversation. He'd been too distracted trying not to fucking die to think through the terms of the deal before he agreed to them.
He gets the book, full time except for one day a month. That was a hella sweet deal, and would be crucial for his business, and being able to pay M&M fairly, because they deserved it. He never imagined he'd actually manage to get away with a bargain so unbelievably in his favor when he showed up to break into the Palace.
But the cost.
Every month, he would have to fuck the bird.
It was exactly the kind of situationship he'd sworn off, no exceptions, after he fucked up Ver's life. Nothing was important enough to be worth going through that again.
But then... this was a Prince. A mighty Royal, who ruled over their domain within Hell. He had fucking legions. There was absolutely no risk of him ever seeing Blitzø as anything but a convenient lay, a distraction from his shitty, repressed life. If there was anyone it was safe to be in this situation with, safe to trust not expect more out of him than a good fuck, this was him. This was it.
And it didn't hurt that Blitzø really liked fucking him. Like, really liked fucking him. Goddammit. He missed having a partner that knew his preferences, that he didn't have to start from scratch with, work out what they both wanted and were comfortable with and what got them going, every damn time.
This was going to be unpleasant for Blitzø, in the long run. He knew that, knew himself well enough. But... maybe it was his turn. Maybe he deserved it—deserved to be the one thrown away when he outlived his usefulness.
And if M&M got a sweet deal out of it, if it meant he could provide a better home for Loona, that was certainly a price he was willing to pay, no question.
Blitzø popped open the first bottle, taking a long drink out of it, and then another, until it was half-empty. He stared at the city, at the fog that hovered over it, grey and smothering, tinted a muddy brownish-red by the light from the Pentagram. He drank some more. He drank until his head started to get fuzzy, and the tips of his fingers tingled. And then he kept going.
The more he drank, the less terrible of an idea the deal seemed. It was an arrangement, with established boundaries, not some... nebulous, poorly defined relationship. There were rules. If they stuck to the rules, everything would be fine.
They'd all be safe. He would be safe. Not his heart, or whatever was left of it; he'd stopped trying to do anything about that a long time ago, at the same time he began collecting his scars on his skin. But at least he wouldn't have to worry about ruining anyone else's life.
No, it was all positives. Moxxie had safe (as much as an imp in the assassin biz could get, anyway), stable employment. Millie had an outlet with people she could trust at her back. Loona had a home, and a job she didn't have to worry about losing, where she could be herself. He got to have his very own successful business, with an office, which was all he'd ever really wanted. And Stolas got to let loose, have some fun. It worked out so perfectly for all of them, as long as they stuck to the rules.
Blitzø was good at sticking to rules. The circus had lots of rules, all meant to keep everyone safe and functional, and he'd done that. His dad had rules, and he didn't always understand them, but he knew better than to disobey. He followed the rules he needed to follow so he could take Loona home. He broke Moxxie's rules sometimes, but he was pretty sure there was no being anywhere in Hell that could actually follow all of Moxxie's rules, Millie included, so he gave himself a pass there.
As long as he followed the rules, everything would be fine.
Blitzø finished his bottle, and then another one, and stared at the city, and made a new deal with himself.
He could follow Stolas's rules, too. It sucked, getting yanked around by a fucking Royal, but in this one, specific case... He thought about a tiny, fluffy little dumbass bird prince on his birthday, so many years ago. He thought maybe, in this one instance, it might be tolerable.
Blitzø drank until he passed out, and then slept for a while. He woke up with a killer headache and feeling like absolute shit, but he would be good to drive as soon as he emptied his stomach, and by the time he made it back to the apartment he'd be ready to handle talking to other people again.
He sighed, and started on the short walk back to his van.
He'd made a deal, and he was an imp of his word, so he was gonna fucking stick to it.