Being perfectly honest, Henry felt that having the red carpet rolled out for him might be the most unsettling experience that could have happened for him in that moment. Well, maybe not the most unsettling… but definitely top five or higher. More for the way that it went against the grain of recent events than being intentionally uncomfortable.

Trust was something that had become a scarce commodity for a bloody good reason, after all. Genuine kindness, even more so. For him and Enrico to be offered both freely, just for having the decency of showing up…

…Either Death Jr. was desperately lonely, or individually strong enough that how he treated them didn't really matter. Or both. That was always a possibility.

"I just knew, knew, deep down that if I kept at it things would change!" The Devil in question fist-pumped excitedly as the passage through the center of the stage spat them all out on top. "It's all about how you market these days! Tour enough locations, get a lay of the land around you, and eventually, you strike your first fans!"

"Ah, yeah, right on that one…" Henry agreed halfheartedly, nodding along. Enrico got away with remaining silent under the hood, but it didn't seem like either of them were being paid much attention through their host's excitement anyways.

He took the brief lapse in attention as a chance to survey the immediate surroundings. They were… shockingly mundane, in his opinion. Sure, there was the whole 'made of bones' thing the stage had going on, but past that there wasn't really much all that striking about it. The sound system was pretty impressive, he supposed. And the blackout curtains that were stretched across the width of the platform reminded him of theatre a bit. It looked like there was some sort of 'backstage' space back there somewhere, but the lighting and fog made it hard to say with certainty. But, all in all, the design was pretty much faithful to what you'd see anywhere else.

Not a bad thing… but compared to some of the wild sights the city had to offer, this just felt sort of… plain.

For now, he was satisfied with what details he could take in. He stopped tuning out the constant chatter coming from Death Jr. and made like he was paying attention the whole time.

"Which one didya like the most?! Wait, wait, wait! Don't pick just yet, actually! I haven't gone through all of them! Wouldn't do to pick a favorite without the complete picture! Hold on, I'll play you a few to get the ball rolling…"

Well, that proved to be a mistake on my part, didn't it…

In that moment, it occurred to him that he might die here. Not due to any sort of fight breaking out, but because he'd likely decide to throw himself over the side of the stage before that reality could occur. Right after shoving his thumbs so far into his ears they'd be able to touch in the middle. Anything would be better than an encore right now, and that included his previous measure of 'worst thing', which had previously belonged to having an arm wrestling match with Grimfang the Werewolf.

He prepared himself for the worst.

Death Jr. was on his way to pick his guitar back up that very moment. The man was positively giddy with delight, practically skipping with each step. Just from the mere assumption that he had someone to share his work to. That sort of dedication was actually rather precious these days. Or, actually, even before these days now that he thought on it a bit harder. It made Henry worried that he'd have to choose between crushing a dream and enabling torture.

Fortunately for him, it never came to that. Fate decided it wanted some bloody peace and quiet, too.

"Oh my God. Dee." A voice from behind the black velvet curtains called out. "Just hold off on the solos for, maybe… five minutes, already. Half of these speakers are already blown out and all I've got to work with back here are Domain crystals three years past their prime and a soldering iron with one foot in the grave already. You're lucky we have so many extra parts to cannibalize."

The plainly feminine voice sounded out, equal parts frazzled and resigned. On the deeper side of things for a girl, admittedly, but not so much as to be mistaken. Though if you were, the finely embroidered evening glove trying to wave him off that train of thought from behind the curtain was a pretty dead giveaway.

Death Jr. perked up immediately at her voice, then immediately shifted to being bashful. The reaction struck Henry as a little… unguarded? Definitely inexperienced. Like he wasn't used to talking to girls, period.

Though, can't say I was any better for a bit…

"Ah! I'm getting ahead of myself again, aren't I…" he mumbled ashamedly, palming a hand to his forehead that came away streaked in powder white. "Rule number one of backstage tours: The fans want introductions! Where are my manners?"

Henry held up his hands placatingly. "Hey, uh, if now's a bad moment for that, we can come back to it after we settle in for a while and-"

"No, no," Death Jr. insisted. "It's important I get this moment right. After all, it's perhaps the defining moment of my band's career! You're just in time for the exclusive debut of my co-star as luck would have it."

"...Co-star?"

Before anyone else could get a word out edgewise, he clapped his hands together twice and the whole stage began to rumble. Fossilized arms rose up around various pieces of equipment, rotating them in place and aiming them squarely at the half-drawn curtains. A set of limbs arranged in a grotesque, skeletal wheel readied themselves by a half assembled drum kit, each hand holding a small wooden baton and kicking off the strangest drumroll he'd ever had the chance to hear. Death Jr. took center stage, ratcheting the showmanship up to eleven as he did.

"So, gentlmen and/or lady, I present to you… the one… the only… Lady Giselle!"­

He struck an extravagant pose, pointing at the curtains his apparent stagehand was hidden behind. Various metal rings and links on his jacket clinked together as he whipped around, and…

Nothing happened. Other than leaving Henry and Enrico puzzled and slightly amused, that is.

"...Giselle?"

A long suffering sigh came back. "What?" she responded with a hint of sourness.

"Come onnnnn," Death Jr. whined. "That was the perfect moment for a dramatic entrance!"

"I already told you, I'm not-"

"Hey, I though we were past the whole stage fright thing! Come on, there's no need to be shy… you're gorgeous, darling!"

"I never said I had-"

"You'll take anyone's breath away! You'll rock the whole world! But you gotta show that beauty,too! A rose under a glass is only destined to wilt in silence!"

He rapid fired compliment after compliment, but Giselle seemed to be just as unflappable as the curtain she was concealed by. Despite this, Death Jr. only redoubled his efforts to coax her out. With each new and increasingly convoluted praise, he struck a new pose, from the classic visionary picture-box-in-front-of-the-eye, to deep bows, to highly practiced, graceful flourishes. It was a captivating show in and of itself, but the longer it dragged on the more it seemed that the drama was only just unfolding.

I don't get it, Henry thought to himself. Is he the performer, the producer or the backup dancer? Because so far, he's acting like all three at once.

"Light of a thousand stars! Voice of an angel! Destined for-"

"Dee," she interrupted again, cutting him off abruptly. "If you'd let me finish what I was saying, or listened to me before, you'd know why I wasn't coming out."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"…Eh?" The seriousness with which she said his name snapped him out of his loop of affirmations. As well as, apparently, make him realize that he really did have no idea why she'd been playing coy.

"I would?"

"You would. And you'd agree with me."

A pregnant pause filled the air before he tentatively spoke again. "…Er, remind me… what was that again?"

Another shorter sigh from Giselle, as if that had been the response she'd expected all along.

"Because," she intoned, "This costume you always want me to wear during these performances doesn't breathe at all. And considering that keeping up with the rate you burn through equipment is really fu-"

"Language," he cut in hurriedly. "It's bad for ratings."

"Ugh. Really 'fun' and labor intensive, happy? Anyways, I'm slipped halfway out of it right now just so I don't dump liters of sweat while I'm fixing your damage."

Death Jr. visibly winced.

"Ah." he responded with embarrassment. "So, um, are you… decent right now, by any chance?"

"Let's call it bare minimum above the waist. So no, I'd rather not."

Henry thought he could be an open book sometimes when it came to his emotions. However, if that were true, then this guy somehow managed to be an easy-digest travel brochure with big, blocky lettering and multiple translations on each page. Embarrassment was no longer an accurate descriptor. He was way past that now.

"Uh, right… how about you take a five minute break to, um… clean up, then? We can wait for a bit… out here…"

"'Kay," was all the response she deigned to give him. The wind in his sails deflated visibly as he turned around to address his two surprise guests.

"Apologies for the delay…" he mumbled sheepishly. "I, uh, didn't think I'd get this far…"

With your career, or with her?

A folding chair of bones assembled itself behind Death Jr., and he sat down seemingly lost in thought. When the two of them remained standing, he realized the faux pas he'd made in the moment and summoned a pair of similar seats for the both of them. Awkward silence reigned as they both took in the strangeness of the situation they found themselves in.

"Uh, I guess… I guess we can start with what brings you both here…?"

Henry shrugged. That suited him just fine.

< -|- -|- >

"Where'd that damn tin can get off to this time?!"

Henry's duplicate was having a rough day of it. And on his first day on the clock, too. Okay, sure, he understood that life didn't always decide to be convenient, but this one had to be a record of some kind.

For starters, he was on his own for now. His originator had waited until the very last second to bring him in, and meanwhile the oldest duplicate was still gallivanting off with Robb in the hopes of contacting the Reformationists. The little bit of backup he had was purely informational, by way of he have an idea where the artifact toy had scampered off to.

Calling in fresh copies now was technically possible, but he knew if he did he'd get an earful of it from himself the moment the summoning finished. Slots were supposed to stay empty whenever he could help it, because an extra body in the equation often meant a world of difference when it came down to do or die.

Using one just so he had an extra set of hands to track down a nuisance he should have been keeping a lid on was just plain wasteful. As much as he hated to admit it, this problem was for him and him alone.

"Maybe I should just give that crystal pendant to him and be done with it," the copy griped. "At least then, I might have a chance to get some peace and quiet-"

A chime from his pocket told him otherwise. He groaned as he took a moment to quick check the caller ID, only to stop whining midway through when he recognized the number on the other end. It was the number belonging to the original.

"Finally," he breathed in relief. He sat down on the nearest ledge and flipped it open, holding the device to his ear. "Took you long enough," he responded a bit sourly. "How'd it go?"

"Bad news all around, I'm afraid," Robb's voice rasped out rather than his own. "You'll want to fill Martin in on this… there's a lot to unpack from this little meeting of ours."

The clone squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course this had to happen now, of all times.

"And the other one wondered why we started turning into pessimists," he mumbled under his breath hurriedly. "Fine. Lay it on me. I've got time."

< -|- -|- >

"And, uh… that pretty much brings us up to where we are right now," Henry concluded.

His retelling of the trip into Walworth had been met with rather rapt attention on Death Jr.'s part. Or, rather, Dee's part, as he'd kept insisting they call him in casual settings. As the conversation had progressed further and further, the ice had broken quicker than Henry had expected. in no small part thanks to Dee's own uncanny ability to brush past the rough start.

Some people just bounced back like that. He really had no idea how they managed it; he'd have been dying from embarrassment for days.

"Incredible," Dee opined, giving a golf clap and wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. "Truly incredible. I had no idea that I'd be meeting another Devil today. Or that he'd be my first fan! Can you imagine the odds, Henry?"

Henry gave a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He was already wondering if he should be regretting giving his name out.

"Well, in all fairness," he replied diplomatically. "I did come here seeking you out, like I said before."

"Well, of course, of course." Dee nodded along, but held up an index finger to make a point of his own. "But, from my perspective, how could I have known that? Moreover, my choice to come here is still very much a factor too, wouldn't you agree?"

…Did he just use 'moreover' in a sentence? Who talks like that?

Henry shook his head, trying to force the conversation back on track. "I'm sure we could split hairs on the subject until the end of time. However, that can wait until after you make your decision to team up, right…?"

"Hmm… I do need some time to- ah! Giselle! There you are!"

It would seem that his mysterious co-star had a knack for causing interruptions. After what had ended up being closer to ten minutes, she finally exited from behind the curtains. The reason as to why was immediately apparent when she stepped out of the dark shade and into the pale moonlight.

High maintenance didn't even begin to describe the outfit she'd passively described as her 'costume'. Just calling it that felt like some sort of understatement. Frilly laces everywhere, with silky fabric dyed in a burnt orange that approached black and cream-colored trimmings. It was a strange blend between formal and casual sensibilities, combining a modest skirt and heels with distressed black stockings and cutoffs at the shoulders. The whole set screamed custom piece, with no expenses spared. For God's sake, the colors on it were hand picked to match her hair and complexion. Successfully.

But, as usual, the face told most of the story. Henry found himself getting a good look at it as she approached.

"These false ears are such a pain to keep attached," she grumbled with a resting scowl, pushing a strand of coppery hair out of the way to better reach. "Why can't you be the one with the fake pointy ears?"

Dee let out a dramatic sigh. "It's part of the band lore, Giselle," he said with a tone that indicated they'd been over this countless times before. "I'm the lost soul experiencing the Underworld for the first time, and you're the demon countess that guides him on his journey. It just wouldn't make sense if I looked like a demon and you looked like the human!"

"Why not?" she countered. "Nonhumans have been a thing since the 80s, and there's an argument that evil would take on the most familiar guise. Who's to say it couldn't work that way?" She moved on from adjusting the false ears to a cleverly concealed headband that held a large pair of curly demon horns over her head.

"But then the imagery wouldn't be there for the cover art," he insisted. "How are we supposed to sell CDs if we don't try to meet our audience halfway?"

"For the longest time, our 'audience' was just you," she commented. "Are you trying to say that you want me to dress like this because you like how I look in it?"

"W-well, I, uh…"

"Whatever." she pulled out a set of tinted contacts next, carefully placing them into her eyes. "It does look kinda cool once it's finished."

"R-really?"

"Just a bit," she admitted, blinking the contacts into place. "How does it look?"

She turned to Henry and Enrico and gave a little twirl. And… yeah. It was a pretty impressive cosplay. Lifelike levels of detail were typically hard to achieve outside of a big movie production, but if you showed him a picture of her and said that somebody Ghost of Tolkien'ed themselves into a demon, he might have bought it for a bit. He nodded approvingly, but Enrico remained perfectly stock still.

Giselle's now yellow irises squinted in confusion, patterned to stand out dramatically against the dark red sclera and pupils.

"What's his deal?" she asked Henry.

"Oh, uh… he's taken a vow of silence, and, uh…"

"Yeah, bullshit. If you're first response was some sort of crazy lie like that, then he's hiding something even crazier. Spill."

Enrico fidgeted uncomfortably. His cover had many times been the only thing keeping him away from the firing line, and he wasn't about to give up that security so easily. To him, his cloak was like a security blanket, except unlike most items that filled that role it both actually provided him security and could probably serve as a blanket in a pinch. Giving it up now would be completely out of the question. Surely.

The unamused look from Giselle said otherwise.

"Come on, this is getting ridiculous," she complained as the silence bore on. "How about to start you just show me your face, or Dee here doesn't help with your little spider problem."

Now it was Henry's turn to fidget uncomfortably.

"You heard that part?"

"'Course I did. I'm in charge of all his audio equipment. All it takes is one hot mic. Now, face reveal, please."

He quickly glanced over at Dee. The apologetic look on his face told him all he needed to see.

Henry sighed in defeat. "Sorry, man. Looks like we're doing this."

Enrico nodded slowly. He began slowly unwrapping his head from the strips of black cloth, while Henry did his best to temper expectations so that the usual reaction to a vampire's presence didn't occur.

"Now, don't freak out once you see it, but when you do, just… don't do anything hasty, please…"

"Sure. Whatever you say."

Focus was very squarely off of him already. He was completely stonewalled, up until the point where Enrico finally dropped the hood and goggles. His pallid skin reflected ever so slightly against the stage lighting, and he looked back up at Giselle with a look of minor bewilderment.

He was looking at her like that, because the reaction was completely antithetical to what he had been expecting.

Giselle chewed her lip at the sight of him. "Damn," she said appreciatively. "He's kinda hot, actually."

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