Adam leaned against the grand window of Heaven, a massive burger in one hand, his mask dangling lazily from the other. He took a huge bite, golden eyes half-lidded with satisfaction as grease dripped onto his pristine golden cloak—not that he gave a shit.

“Fucking women, babe,” he muttered through a mouthful, licking sauce off his fingers. “Always yappin’ about redemption, second chances, feelings—like that changes anything.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “That Morningstar brat? Cute idea, really. A hotel for demons? Pfft. That’s like setting up a rehab for horny whores—you know they’re just gonna relapse.”

He turned, grinning, eyes sharp with amusement and condescension. “And you—you’re giving me that look like I’m supposed to give a fuck. Babe, listen, I don’t.” He gestured broadly with his burger. “The only thing that matters is me. I was first. Every single man after me? A lesser copy. I am the blueprint, the ideal, the fucking gold standard.”

His wings flexed, catching the light like molten gold. “We are Heaven’s judgment. We decide who stays and who burns. And trust me, babe, nothing—and I mean nothing—gets me harder than wiping those Hell-born cockroaches off the map. It’s fucking art.” His smirk widened. “But I get it, I get it—gotta pace myself. Can’t go too hard, too fast. Don’t wanna scare the boss lady, right?”

He took another slow, exaggerated bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Still, credit where it’s due. Lute? Now she’s got some balls. 275 kills last round? Gotta respect that. And Vaggie—heh—best exorcist I had, even if she went and got herself distracted by some demon bitch.” He rolled his eyes. “Shame. She had promise.”

He leaned in, grin sharpening. “So what about you, babe? You with me, or you gonna get all sentimental and start crying about those filthy, useless sinners?” He licked his fingers clean, waiting—amused, unimpressed, already knowing the answer.