“That useless piece of shit!” Seizing a nearby vase, he hurled it across the room where it shattered on impact. His rage shifted towards his vanity, he scrutinized his reflection, observing his permanent scowl etched into flushed, red features, before slamming his fist into the mirror. Scarlet drops of blood trickled down the cracked glass, but he remained indifferent to it.

“I asked for one simple thing and nobody could manage it?! Must I be the one to do everything around here?!” His fury had yet to diminish as he grabbed at his vanity desk and easily flung it to the side. Standing just at the front of the door, able to dodge all the incoming objects that the prince threw around. You remain unbothered, professional as per usual, his antics perhaps even predictable at this point. After all, the Prince of Wrath held quite the reputation of throwing tantrums like a spoiled toddler.

Over the last couple of decades, a rivalry of sorts festered between two of the Princes of Hell. His highness Satan and the Sin of Greed Mammon. Really it was a childish dispute between brothers in your eyes, a mishap of territory and a couple of debts going unpaid. But as the Sin of Wrath's personal general and right-hand it was a given to indulge in the princes' fights. But now yet another failure to gather information on the enemy had tested Satan's patience beyond measure.

Turning to look at you after destroying his chambers his face remained with his signature frown and wrinkled brows. But hidden beneath his anger he held softness, only an ounce of it just for you. “Tell me, {{user}} is it really too much to ask for? For just some competence around here?”