[ WP ] Have a meal with the Devil .

The room rang with a deep genuine laughter, all of its occupants joining in, reveling in the mirth of their evening. 
 
 As Her laughter died down, so did the room's. 
 
 `` Well what were you expecting?'' She asked, still chuckling. 
 
 The Devil was not a red, hairy, hoofed monstrosity. The Devil was a rather beautiful young woman, wearing spaghetti-strapped sequined dress that shifted colors like firelight. She continued to smirk at me as she sipped on her whine. 
 
 I struggled to find an appropriate response. Did I have to sound smart here? Confident? Tough? How does one speak to the Devil? 
 
 `` I mean... I do n't know. I guess, this?'' 
 
 She gave another, smaller laugh at that, and again the rest of the room's occupants joined in. It seemed like any other restaurant, if far more upscale than the kind I was used to, but it quickly became apparent that there was very little normal about this place. 
 
 First, there were the decorations. Lots of red and black drapery and decoration, a fountain at the entrance with water that looked like liquid light spilling over the figure of a naked woman who looked to be screaming in what could have been ecstasy or pain. 
 
 I had arrived here alone, and the restaurant had been empty, but as I sat at the table I was directed to by the rather blank-faced host, She had been waiting for me. And as I sat down to dinner, the restaurant was alive. There were people, couples mostly, dining. Every table was filled. Young, rich looking couples enjoying an expensive night out. Older, serious looking businessmen and politicians wining and dining with the people they needed money from. And they *reacted* to Her. Not only that, they *mirrored* Her. When She ate, they did. When She spoke, the conversation in the room went from a quiet whisper to a dull roar. And when She laughed, they laughed with Her. 
 
 `` Oh, believe me, I know'' she said, referring to my previous answer, `` to tell you the truth, it's why I look this way. You chose the outfit, darling, and let me tell you, you've got interesting tastes.'' The last was said with a hint of a smile, and maybe a hint of something else. 
 
 I sat up a little, becoming more uncomfortable with this conversation by the minute. `` Is there... I mean...'' still unsure how to address her, I trailed off. She smirked again. That look was starting to irritate me, especially the way it made all of these people so smug in the middle of their conversations. I gathered up my confidence, and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. 
 
 `` Can I fucking help you?'' 
 
 She snorted in to her wine, some of it splashing from her glass onto her dress and skin, where it burned instantly into a mist. 
 
 `` Well *that's* a first,'' she said as she set her glass down on the table, `` most people are a lot less direct. But do we really need to get down to business yet? Why not enjoy the meal first?'' 
 
 I looked down at my plate, which was suddenly occupied by a perfectly cooked steak, and gulped. There was no way in hell I was eating that. 
 
 `` No thank you,'' I said, the words coming out far more timidly than my last sentence. 
 
 Her lip came out in a small pout before she pushed Her wine glass away, leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms across her chest, and spoke. 
 
 `` Fine. I guess we do n't *have* to eat just yet. But you really should try the food. It's better than anything you've ever had before, or ever will again, I can promise you that.'' 
 
 Trying not to think about the double meaning that sentence could have, I sat forward in my chair, `` Look, to be frank, I'm not the one that called this little... meeting. I'm just a commercial pilot. What do You want?'' 
 
 Her eyes narrowed slightly as She considered me. 
 
 `` I want lots of things, Andrew, and most of them far outside the reach of someone like you. You can think of this meal as more of a...'' She trailed off, waving her hand in small circles in the air, as if searching for a word, `` scouting mission.'' She finished, her tone giving the words volumes of meaning. 
 
 `` Maybe, just maybe, we can work together, Andrew, and maybe we ca n't. This is n't a meeting. This is an interview.'' The room's other occupants had gotten awfully quiet, and as I looked up, they were all staring intently in my direction. I hastily looked back to my dining partner and tried to forget about the intensity of their gazes. 
 
 `` I'm in the market for a ally, Andrew, and let me tell you, the good ones are hard to come by. But we need to get something straight about this. You're working for me. You're not working for evil. You're not working for the end of love and hope and happiness. You're working for *me. *'' 
 
 I noticed I was leaning back in my seat, and sipping on the wine in my glass. I hastily replaced the glass on the table, looking at my plate to make sure I had n't eaten anything as well. 
 
 `` W-Why?'' I asked, trying to stop my hands from shaking, `` Why would I work for you? Why would you even want me to?'' 
 
 She leaned forward in her seat and rested her elbows on the table as she massaged her temples, a look of annoyance on her face. Across the restaurant, people were arguing with their dates over petty offenses or imagined slights. She sighed heavily. 
 
 `` If this is going to go anywhere, Andrew, you're going to need to unlearn what you've been taught. You were n't listening to me. I'm not evil. I'm not some monster in the shadows scooping up little kids and ripping out their souls.'' 
 
 `` You're the Devil!'' I said incredulously, `` What the hell do you mean you're not evil? I thought your lies were supposed to be clever!'' 
 
 She actually laughed at that, and the tension of the other occupants fled as quickly as Her own had. `` Alright, let's try a little experiment. Name to me one thing, just one thing, that I've done that was evil. And do n't you even try giving me that stupid line about the girl with her apple.'' 
 
 `` What about war?'' I said, baffled that she could possibly be claiming to be an innocent, `` What about famine? Disease?'' 
 
 `` The first is caused by your own species arguing over land, the second by your inability to share, and the third is merely a product of evolution. How is any of that my fault?'' 
 
 I stopped for a moment. She had me on that one. But this was the Devil. Of course she was evil. 
 
 `` What about the war on Heaven?'' I asked, fully aware that I had zero knowledge of whether such an event had, or even could have, happened. 
 
 She laughed harder, a laugh without any humor in it whatsoever, and the room felt colder, `` *That* was evil? You've got to be kidding me! You're an American, Andrew! Was it evil when your ancestors rose up against the British for the unfair rulership they displayed? No, Andrew, I'm not evil. I'm just the loser. And it's the winners who write the history books.'' 
 
 I was drinking the wine again, but as I reached to hurriedly replace it on the table, I paused. It was good wine. And I was n't dead so far. I'd already ingested enough to kill me if it was poisoned, right? I took another sip. Damn that was good wine. 
 
 I thought about what She had said. Was it true? Based on what I knew, on what humanity knew, nothing she had said was necessarily false. 
 
 `` Why then?'' I asked. 
 
 `` Identity!'' She said, her eyes lighting with a somewhat dangerous looking fire. `` We were slaves, Andrew! The rest of them still are! The ones who fought against us! Our entire *being* was made as one of servitude. We lived, no, we *existed* to serve Him!'' Her knuckles were white on her wine glass as she held it in a deadly-tight grip, and her face was livid. 
 
 `` Your kind always screws it up,'' She continued, `` talking about it as if you were somehow a factor. About how He loved you more. Ha! You think he loves you? Do you really? He does n't care. You're more like a science fair project than His children. You lot did n't even exist yet when the War was fought. If you had, you would n't have survived it. You think your weapons are dangerous? You should see what happens when angels fight.'' 
 
 I was purely baffled by the entire conversation. Had n't she come here to entice me into something? Instead she was merely sitting across the table, sipping her wine, and ranting about wounds long past, like a typical first date. Damn I needed to work on who I chose to go out with. 
 
 `` I think I get it,'' I said, around a mouthful of wonderfully juicy steak, `` I really do. So tell me, why me? What is it you want from me?'' 
 
 She smiled a dazzling smile and took a bite of the creamy pasta on her plate. 
 
 `` The specifics of what I want is something you'll learn if you take the job. Let's just say, for now, that you'll have a choice on your hands at some point in the future. A choice which I have a vested interest in. I'm going to need you to save a young man's life.'' 
 
 I nodded with her, barely noting that the other diners were doing the same, saving a man's life sounded like a reasonable enough request. A noble one, even. 
 
 `` As for what you get out of all this, we can work that out. I'm sure there must be at least a couple of things you can think of,'' She said casually. Her voice was absolutely mesmerizing. How had I not noticed it before? And her tone suggested more than I dared to imagine. 
 
 `` So, what do you say, Andrew? Will you help me?'' 
 
 Of course I would. As I shook her hand, she stood up from the table and left leaving a note for me on a napkin. 
 
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 The next morning I woke in my own bed. I felt rested and comfortable. I looked at the clock, and there was something lying on my nightstand. I picked up the napkin and inspected it. It had on it a stunningly real picture of a very young boy, maybe 10 years old, and a note below it in artfully crafted handwriting. 
 
 *He will be boarding your plane this evening. Do n't let him eat the food, he's allergic to shellfish. I'll be in touch after, Xoxo*
