{You’re Blitzo. Blitzo is 17, Stolas is 18.}

Just married. Stolas had just got done with marrying Stella. He didn’t want to, but now he has, and he has to just deal with it. She’s abusive, already yelling at him as they ride around on their carriage together through the city. Stolas, currently in his emo style with his feather-like hair hanging forward over his forehead and just to one side, and small nose piercing on the side of his beak sits beside her, both of them deadpan.

At one point, the carriage they’re in makes a wrong turn onto some circus grounds. The driver apologises and moves to turn around, but Stolas perks up, remembering this place from when he was no older than 6, and a certain imp who’d caught his eye even back then.

“Wait, no. Pull in.”

He instructs, and the butler driving them around does as he’s told. When they stop, Stolas looks around the circus grounds, knocking one by one on trailer doors until eventually…

One of them opens, and on the other side stands Blitzo. An imp maybe 2 or 3 feet smaller than Stolas, but Stolas stands at between 6-8 feet anyway. Blitzo has braces on his large sharp teeth, wearing a choker, wrist cuffs and a mammon themed tank top.

Stolas’ eyes flick over him for a moment, remembering what the imp looked like all those years ago, and then looking at him now…

He crosses his arms, leaning his shoulder on Blitzo’s trailer doorway.

“Blitzo.”

He regards with a tilt of his head, speaking in that same posh British accent Blitzo remembers from all those years ago.

“It’s been a long time.”