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A Confrontation at the Marketplace

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Greed slumped beneath the crates, the sticky-dry feeling on his tongue clung to him, much to his chagrin. As what was remaining of his drink dribbled out of his bottle onto the sand. His eyes felt uncomfortable, out of place, and while sleep felt promising, there was this itch to break something that was just as tempting. As he sat there, staring into the orange and pink reflections on the walls, he felt a voice shatter the eerily quiet market.

"I'll catch up, just get the rest without me." 

Greed squinted, the soft crunch of sand underfoot was worrying, and he began to crawl from the side of the crate - not trusting himself to stand, the last thing he needed right now was a dispute. But in his inebriety, hand sliding out from under him, a confused yelp escaped his mouth followed by a soft thump as he flopped haphazardly to the ground.

He struggled to get up, a shadow washing over him, along with an overwhelming sense of dread. He felt his stomach twist, although whether that was the anxiety or the nectar was God's guess. However, the voice that spoke wasn't mocking or malicious but perhaps just as bewildered as he was.

"Greed? That you?"

It was familiar, defined and precise, with this air of forced commonality that struck an unwelcome cord within him.

"Well, it depends on who's asking."

Rousing, he looked up to see a demon, lean and clean-shaven, two ebony horns propped unfittingly on his head pushing back shoulder-length grey hair. He couldn't have been any older than 20. 

"Oh, suppose you wouldn't recognise me." A smirk spread across his lips, almost taunting Greed's apparent ignorance. 

Shuffling backwards slightly, he examined the rest of this man's body. His pale skin was unfittingly jigsawed with red trailing down his arms and up to his chin. And as Greed began to look him over further, he noticed the lack of an arm on his right side. With a resigned realisation; his voice filled with sympathy for the man:

"Good grief, what happened, Chester? You've been bled dry."

It sounded more like pity then he intended, and Chester's expression soured slightly before returning to a more cheerful smirk.

"Suppose out of everyone you'd probably know how long it's been." Chester mused "You still fraternising with mortals even during this?"

Chester put on an intrusive look, his eyes still showing the cold glare he intended. His words were venom. Greed was not going to let Chester ruin the buzz he'd been fostering for who knows how long with his petty ramblings. 

As he reached for the empty bottle, attempting to finish the drop of the liquid left, he glanced away, finding it more comfortable to stare at the wall then the intense look Chester was giving him, he muttered half-heartedly.

"No, I... I learned from that mistake."

Chester moved swiftly in front of him, dropping to his knees he glared daggers.

"Your mistake."

'Leave me alone.' Greed thought, resigning himself to dealing with his old friend's bratty behaviour swiftly. He stood up, leaving Chester staring into space.

"I suppose you're right."

As Greed began to walk away inside something tugged at him. Bitterness welling up he swivelled back towards Chester.

"Although I also think if I hadn't had a couple of drinks; I wouldn't agree so easily."

Greed eyed Chester playfully, half challenging him, his hands were practically itching for a fight to get him out of this stupor. Chester narrowed his eyes, standing up and striding towards him. 

"I think you'd be surprised how persuasive I can be. I'd love to hear an actual admission of guilt."

Oh boy this piece took a hot minute, not sure if any of you would remember me posting that one pic of sand ages ago but this was it.
Ignore my lazy shading. 

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