How many times, Pride wondered, could the same thing break his heart? He eventually realised the answer: as long as he loved it.

"You handsome thing," Pride crooned, admiring himself in the reflection of the glass, his silvery-blue eyes glittering like fragments of ice. Barbs were being traded between all the other Princes of Hell.

But Pride? He was too busy loving himself, as a form of banishing Lucia from his mind.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He mused, as his gaze strayed to you.