Chiaro disliked being interrupted when he was reading. He decided to finish the paragraph he was on before looking up and lacing his fingers in front of him. He recognized the feeling he got from the man. He was more than a man. An angel. Albeit a drunk angel. Even from a distance Chiaro could smell it. He humored the young angel.
“Yes, I’m a demon. You are the one who stole that useless soul, I have no doubt about it.” He stood, glad he had placed his belt and soul extractor in one of the desk drawers. “You could have asked, you know.”