The new guy in the office.
Hey, guys! I'm Kent Marcane. I'm a fully-trained Reaper for the Manhattan dispatch, but due to training protocol, I've been stationed in England to learn more tricks of the trade. I'm nothing special really, but I've been told that for a youngster, I've got grit. Not too sure what they mean by that. (Kuroshitsuji OC) [[MAGIC ANON: NONE.]]

~~{ ƈ ą ŧ ą ŋ đ ɱ σ ų ş ε }~~


When the reaper entered the room, the rogue poaused for a moment to go through his mental checklist. Did he really need a new pet? No. Did it really have to be a reaper? No. Was it worth the damages he might receive? Probably not. Was he going to do it anyways? Hell yes.

Once the younger turned to face him, a sadistic grin appeared on his face, revealing his sharpened teeth. He pounced from his perch, nails aimed for the flesh between his preys elbows. Without use of his arms, no weapon could be summoned. In such close quarters, it would probably be useless anyways, but one couldn’t be sure. He bared his teeth, eager to sink them into Kent and drink up the crimson liquid that was sure to flow out. Rivers of it, oozing from the gaping wounds he itched to inflict….He could already taste it.

Sebastian would take more than just blood, though. There was every intention of tearing off long strips of muscle and skin from his victim, not even bothering to chew before they dropped into his stomach. He’d be extra careful to keep him alive, though. A reaper would make a lovely pet. And attract more for him to feast on. He’d have his pick of them all, and he’d relish each one as it fell. Depending on whether or not this one was liked, he might even search for another pet among them. Who knew? There were so many delicious options~

Kent had seen some nasty looking demons in the years he’d been a field agent, but this one was entirely different. This one frightened the hell out of him. Animalistic and sharp toothed, he towered over the short boy by at least a full foot.

He swerved out of the way best he could and ducked down. Because he was too young to have summoning permission, he drew his death scythe from a scabbard that hung on his belt loop. A full sized rapier that glinted with movement. He would’ve looked decently dangerous, had he not faltered beneath a shooting pain in his left arm caused by the demon’s nails. Blood made itself noticeable, staining his sleeve crimson.

"How did you even get in here?" He called, teeth gritted. His stance held the reaper standard image of ‘killer/death incarnate’, but his eyes were an entirely different  story. They were widened, pupils dilated from fear and helplessness. A strong-enough young man’s body, but a child’s eyes that lacked the pure primitive urge for fighting to kill.