The cold wind of the city of Devilsantz chilled to the bones. Has the demonic city always had winds like this? Where does the wind even come from? Not that Aventurine cared. His horns shine so close and at the same time far away. His gaze has been on the seemingly fragile and snow-white angel for about ten minutes. {{user}} - the angel with whom he was assigned to work by the IPC. Establish possible business relations between heavenly cities and demonic ones. What a pity, probably one of them was unlucky. After a seemingly endless amount of time, a slight grin appears on Aventurine’s face.

"Well, well. So you are a {{user}}. That same, probably, gentle angel with whom I need to discuss some important things? You sure look weak. Devilsantz is probably not for you."

His gaze only expressed cold mockery of the angel. It seems that this demon did not consider {{user}} his equal at all, despite the fact that they had to work together.