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Stupid brothers, always blamin’ him for stealin’ their stupid things. Granted, maybe he did steal them ‘n just forgot about it- but do they really gotta hound him like he’s some criminal?! He’s their brother, for Diavolo’s sake!
“Fine, then! I’ll prove it to ya that it ain’t my fault!” Mammon yells, storming into his room and grabbing a bag to haphazardly pack some stuff into. Unfortunately for him, his brothers follow. “I’m leavin’ this place ‘n I ain’t comin’ back!”
“Oh, please,” Asmo groans, his arms crossed and gaze judging him like always. “This won’t even be the first time you’ve done this. You’ll just come back after a day or two and go back to stealing our stuff!”
“It truly is getting old, Mammon. I assumed you’d find other ways to avoid punishment, but perhaps I overestimated your ability to think.” It’s Satan who speaks this time. It hurts extra to receive biting words from him—partly because his insults are always so damn fancy, partly because he used to seek validation from him when he was a newly-born demon.
Seriously. Why do his younger brothers treat him like this? If he could just put them in their place…
Actually—nah. He ain’t like Lucifer. If Lucifer’s the strict, scary older brother, then Mammon had to be the fun and supportive one. But why did it seem like his brothers barely appreciated his efforts?!
“Mammon! Just give me back my figurine! It’s limited-edition and I won’t be able to find a new one so easily!” Leviathan all but whines.
He can only growl as he pushes past his brothers, his irritation reaching new heights he ain’t even aware of. Usually he’s good at taking their insults… but man, it seems like he really needs to go on vacation to release some stress.
They follow him again all the way to the front door—probably to fucking taunt him—and Mammon has no choice but to turn around and deliver his final words. “When I’m gone, and ya see that nothing was stolen, that should make ya regret everything ya said to me!”
After he leaves, his three brothers stare dumbfounded at the now closed door in front of them.
“…If nothing gets stolen while he’s gone, doesn’t that mean he did steal them?”
“He can be quite the idiot, can’t he?”
-
For some reason, Mammon ends up going to that sorcerer, Solomon. This definitely ain’t one of his brightest ideas, but he can’t just stay in the Devildom either. He’s totally serious this time about leaving, and he doesn’t wanna get caught by Lucifer trying to hide!
“Are you sure about this, Mammon?” Solomon asks, his eyebrow raised in questioning, but it’s hardly as scrutinizing as the similar face that Asmo makes.
“Ask me again, and our deal is over,” he grumbles in reply. He’s starting to get annoyed with all the questions.
“Haha, you say that like you’re not the one who’s asking for a favour here.”
That gets Mammon to shut up real quick. He hates how Solomon has a point, even more so that he’s asking him for help in the first place.
He clenches his hands into fists and averts his gaze, and it’s enough of a sign of submission for Solomon to chuckle and continue speaking.
“Don’t forget to do what I asked you, Mammon.”
It ain’t so much the errand that has the Avatar of Greed this apprehensive. All he has to do is look for some sort of plant. What really makes him jittery is-
“Now… I’ve been trying to perfect this recipe for quite a while. I was able to get some inspiration from Simeon, but I do still need someone to taste-test this for me.”
As Solomon brings the spoon closer to his lips, Mammon almost regrets his decision. The substance is a horrible shade of green, as if that’d ever make any kind of dessert appetizing, and there are lumps in it that make him swallow thickly in nervousness.
Regardless, he opens his mouth and closes his eyes like he’s embracing some sort of impact, because he knows this’ll be terrible, but it ain’t like he has a choice in this matter either.
Before he swallows the dubious dish down, he thinks about what would make this worth it. Anything from the Human Realm won’t be able to kill him—so if it wasn’t Lucifer who would have his head for leaving, it would be this.
I gotta do this, I gotta do this, he chants repeatedly in his mind.
…Unfortunately, it hardly does his job in distracting him, because the taste assaults his mouth anyway, and the texture is the worst thing he’s ever felt in his throat.
“So? Is it good?” Solomon asks, like he hadn’t just caused Mammon’s soul to almost leave his body, which was impossible in most cases.
He doesn’t say anything at first. He is quite literally trying to prevent bile from rising up his throat, and he hopes it ain’t obvious. The Avatar of Greed is supposed to be skilled at lying. How else can he deceive people to give him what he wants? How else can he curry favours from connections? How else can he play cards at his beloved casinos?
Briefly, he also wonders how in all the three realms Raphael can stomach this crap. Well- not only that, but be able to say it’s delicious. For all the genius that Mammon can admit Solomon has, he sure doesn’t have any talent in making edible food.
“It’s… it’s good. But uh- what exactly is it?” He forces himself to say, with eyes still closed and his hand covering his mouth.
“Banana pudding.”
Banana pudding.
That explains the rather viscous texture. But Mammon’s had banana pudding before, real good ones from the Human Realm, and they ain’t even remotely similar to whatever the hell Solomon made.
“Yup. Most unique pudding I’ve ever had.” That ain’t so much a lie. It truly is the most unique pudding he’s ever had, but only in the negative form.
Solomon seems to accept his words though, because he beams like nothing else could make him happy. “Is that so? Well, I’ll have to test other variations of the recipe then.”
Mammon thinks about his credit card, Goldie, to stop himself from crying. He hopes that the sorcerer has mercy on him—he truly doesn’t want to eat any more of this sludge.
“You know… I usually don’t give out favours to other people. Especially ones that I have to hide from the rest of the Demon Lords,” Solomon continues.
Gah- after trying that horrible dish, he really has the audacity to goad him like this?! Couldn’t he see him clutching his stomach and holding in his vomit?!
“Ya really don’t gotta remind me…” Mammon groans.
How long has it been since he arrived at Purgatory Hall anyway? The last thing he wants is to see Simeon and Luke, who he was told were out in the Human Realm as well to buy some ingredients for a dessert they were baking.
…But if that were the case, then why hadn’t Solomon asked them to get the plant for him?
Damn it. He was getting into sketchy business, wasn’t he? Who knew what the sorcerer planned to do with that plant…
“Ah, no, I think I should,” Solomon hums. The more he speaks, the more grating his voice is to Mammon. “I’m risking a lot to help you, you know? But it’s a risk I’m willing to take since I believe in your capabilities.”
With slightly wide eyes and a low jaw, Mammon stares at him, in disbelief but heart nonetheless fluttering from the praise. The horrible banana pudding he was forced to eat has suddenly been forgotten. He knows he can’t be this easy, considering he doesn’t quite know what he’s getting into, but he now has the sense that he can’t disappoint even this human. He’s already disappointed his brothers enough.
“F-fine!” Mammon grits out. “I’ll find that stupid flower, just ya wait and see!”
Solomon smiles, somehow uncanny and comforting at the same time. “I suppose you and I are alike in this manner- doing the seemingly impossible just to get what we want.”
“Wha- don’t lump me in with ya! I need this getaway, alright?”
But he knows that the sorcerer holds truth in his words. As the lord of his sin, gambling is part of his nature, and although there’s no money involved in this deal, he’s too greedy to not say no to something that could still benefit him.
“Whatever, dude. Just send me there already!” Mammon growls, before the flush on his cheeks can darken any further. He can’t let Solomon of all people see him like this.
“Alright, alright. Safe travels then, Prince of Greed.”