The office was practically silent, save for the ticking of the clock and the muted clicking of the newton's cradle sitting on the desk. The man behind it simply stared at the apparatus, following the suspended ball bearings with piercing green eyes as he idly twiddled a pen between his fingers. There were papers to sign off on and digital meetings to go to, but today, he had nothing but time. Seagulls were screeching outside, creasing his dark brow.

The phone rang. With a sigh, he reached over and pressed a button.

"Yes?" he asked in a cool, collected voice.

"Sir? Your mother is here," spoke secretary through the speaker.

He gave a low, drawn-out sigh.

"Send her on up."

Leaning back in his seat, he returned his attention to the newton's cradle. His mother always had a habit of turning up at the most inopportune moments. She said she only wanted to check up on him, but every time she visited, she brought with her platitudes and pleadings. He was getting tired of it.

Over at the other end of the office, one of the double doors creaked open, revealing a tall woman dressed in a white sweater. She nervously crept inside, whereupon she held her handbag to her chest and regarded her son with a concerned eye.

"Stefan..." spoke Sheila Pharmine, clutching her bag nervously.

With a sigh, Stefan Blackwell picked a small remote off his desk and hit a button, causing the office doors to lock. Pressing another, the lights turned on as blinds slowly covered the windows, cutting the office off from the rest of the world. With a nod to his mother, she reached into her sweater and pulled off a black pendant.

At once, her skin darkened to the colour of coal dust as a pair of stony wings burst forth from concealed flaps on the back of her top. Her hair went white and a halo-esque horn sprouted from her forehead and curled around her head.

Stefan followed suit and removed his own Cloaking Charm. Uncloaked, the two Fallen stared at each other from across the room.

"Yes?" he asked, leaning his head on his hand.

"How are you doing? You still haven't called," Sheila said, stepping over to the chairs in front of the desk.

"I'm too busy for that. I thought I already told you this."

Sheila sunk into her chair.

"Well... The Spring Festival is soon, and-"

"I don't celebrate Hell holidays anymore. It's not the same without Dad."

Stefan glanced over at the sole decorative item on his desk. It was a single framed photograph of three smiling Fallen; him, his mother and his late father. His heart twinged at the sight of it.

"Stefan... Please, you need to let this go. Let him go," she sighed.

"Oh, like you did?" he suddenly snapped, narrowing his eyes.

"Let's not start this again..."

Folding his arms, Stefan leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes.

"Five years. Dad was barely cold in the grave and you just moved on without a thought," he hissed spitefully.

She looked shocked, taken aback by her son's sudden outburst.

"Is that how much his love meant to you?! That you'd just replace him like that?!" continued Stefan, slamming his fist against the desk.

"St- Stefan, look, Melanie and I... We were both in a bad place, alright? She had just gotten divorced and... one thing led to another..." replied Sheila, gazing down at her shoes.

Suddenly, she looked up at him, her eyes moist with tears.

"Wh- What about Adeline?" sobbed the Fallen, "What about your sister?"

He paused, his breath catching in his throat at the mention of his stepsister's name.

Stefan wanted so badly to not care about her, but when he first met the young Glutton, he couldn't help but take a liking to her. She was a sensitive little thing, always following him around and asking him questions about things she didn't understand. Despite his best efforts to remain distant, Stefan still spent a lot of time with Adeline, helping her learn English or trying to teach her to swim.

He even gave her a nickname. Jelli.

Swallowing hard, he shook his head and turned his attention to his computer.

"Adeline's not my sister," he stated in a cold, robotic tone.

Eyes wide, Sheila wiped her tears away and stood up, fists shaking.

"... Melanie and I will be in town for a couple of days. At least come with us for dinner...?"

He didn't look up from his computer.

"I'll think about it," Stefan replied, reaching for the remote.

Her shoulders slumped as she took a deep breath and redonned her Cloaking Charm. Stepping over to the doors, Sheila glanced back at her son for a moment before she shook her head and left the office.

As soon as the doors shut, Stefan buried his face in his hands.

"Damn it all..."

-----

Stefan sat at the restaurant table, scowling silently as he glanced down at his phone. The table was reserved for five o'clock, and here he was, sitting alone as it approach half-past. They were late, and he was not particularly tolerant of tardiness.

"Are you ready to order yet, sir?" asked a passing waiter, glancing down at the empty table.

"This table was reserved for three. As you can see, I'm sitting by myself."

"Um...?"

He sighed.

"No, I'm not yet ready to order."

The waiter nodded shakily and scuttled away to another table, leaving the cloaked Fallen alone with his thoughts. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes, not looking forward to the coming meal at all. The thing about fancy restaurants was that they overcharged for such tiny amounts of food, and most of the time the taste was left wanting. But on Earth, appearances took precedence over everything else, and if Stefan wanted to be respected as a businessman, he had to be seen eating at such places.

The murmur of the rest of the restaurant's clientele died away as he thought back to those halcyon days back during their summer vacations in Hell, when he was a child. It was just him, his mother and his father then, and Stefan had never been happier. Those summers were spent in a caravan on the open road, and their days were spent sunbathing beneath the perfect red sky while his father cooked burgers on an open grill. They were greasy, fatty slabs of meat, but to young Stefan, they were the most delicious thing he had ever tasted, especially when shared with family. His father would always make too much, and they'd last them even when they had returned home to England.

How he wished he could return to that time...

"Ah, Stefan! Sorry we're late!" called a sudden voice, snapping him out of his reverie.

Opening his eyes, the businessman watched as a pair of women made their way over to his table; one tall and slender, the other short and plump. The first was his mother, while the second was a dumpy little woman with a cheery smile and bright hazel eyes.

Melanie. Sheila Blackwell-Pharmine's new wife.

"Stefan! It's so good to see you!" she cried in German, earning her a few strange glances from the restaurants other patrons.

"Keep it down, Melanie. This is a high-class establishment," he responded curtly, gesturing to the two chairs at the other side of the table.

He could only hope the coming meal passed quickly.

As the two women seated themselves, Stefan waved a waitress over. He placed his order and gestured for them to do the same, never once taking his eyes off his mother. She smiled at him in an effort to lighten the mood, but he wasn't having it.

"What took you so long?" he asked, folding his arms as the waitress made off for the kitchens.

"Sorry Stefan, I'm still not very good at English. What did you say?" asked the cloaked Glutton.

He ignored her and pointed his attention to Sheila, who just sighed.

"We were on our way when we got a call from your sister-"

"I told you she's not my sister."

"- and she was in a bit of a state. Apparently she had planned to go swimming with a friend, but she had to cancel because of family or something. You know how she gets; it took quite some time to calm her down."

Jelli was always a bag of nerves. Even the littlest of things would set her off, and more than likely send her crying to her stepbrother. Time was he would begrudgingly sit with her and stroke her hair until she calmed down, but...

Stefan gritted his teeth. No. He told himself he was distancing himself.

"Right. She's an adult. Let her deal with her own problems," he stated in a cold tone, pouring himself a glass of water.

Silence settled over the dinner table as the first course arrived. It was some kind of soup, but it was so over-garnished and under-flavoured that he had a hard time discerning just what it was. Across from him, Sheila and Melanie picked at their own meals, clearly unused to upper-class dining.

"So. What did you want to talk about?" Stefan asked, resting his head in his hand.

"S- Stefan, please, I don't know what you're saying," Melanie said worriedly, glancing at her wife.

Again, he ignored her.

Sheila took a deep breath and laid her spoon down next to her bowl.

"We were wondering whether you'd spend the Spring Festival with us, down in Brimstone," she said.

"I'm not going," he snapped immediately, startling his mother.

"Why not?"

"You know why."

The last time he was in Hell, he watched as his father's casket was lowered into the ground near his ancestral home of Aetrne. The very reason he and Sheila moved away to Frankfurt was to get away from painful memories and have a fresh start. When they met Melanie and Jelli, he was content to just be friends with them. He never imagined his mother would forget his father's memory so quickly.

"Stefan..." sighed the Fallen's mother, her brow creasing with worry.

"What's happening? What did he say?" Melanie asked, alarmed by the dour mood settling over the table.

"N- Nothing, sweetheart," Sheila responded.

Stefan scoffed as he dipped into his soup.

"By all means, spare her," he muttered.

"Stefan, that's enough! Why are you being so cruel to Melanie?! Why now?!"

"I thought I already explained myself well enough."

"What, you don't accept her because she's a woman?!"

"I don't accept her because she isn't Dad!"

His fists balled and his teeth clenched as he snapped back at Sheila. In response, she wiped one of her eyes.

"You're not the only one who misses him! But that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to love anymore!" she cried, her voice gradually raising.

"Darling, please; people are staring," Melanie warned, glancing around at the others in the restaurant.

"Does that give you the right to spit on his memory?! Because if you're willing to just forget Dad existed, then I have no qualms with having nothing to do with this fucking family anymore! I made a life for myself, and I don't need you or your fucking replacement spouse trying to drag me down!" Stefan yelled back, standing out of his seat.

"Both of you, please, calm down!"

With a balled fist, the cloaked Fallen slammed the table, drawing the attention of everyone around them.

"Melanie, just shut the fuck up!" he snapped harshly in German.

He heard the click-clack of highheels on tile as Sheila stormed over to the other side of the table. Winding back her hand, she sharply slapped him across the side of the face. The strike stung and almost knocked Stefan onto his back.

"Don't you dare speak to her like that! Resent me if you must, but don't even think for a second that you can talk to Melanie in such a way!" she hissed, eyes narrow.

Holding the side of his face, Stefan straightened his back and took a sharp breath.

"Fine. Go home, then. And don't call me anymore. I'm done with you, and I'm done with this family."

Right as her expression began to soften, he gathered up his belongings and stepped away from the table, eyes locked firmly with the restaurant's exit.

He didn't need them.

If his mother would abandon his father, then he would abandon her.

See how she likes it.