Another Shitty Day in Hell - Sir Pentious x Reader

Flashback/AN: ------
Time skip: - - - -

(I also added that key to chapter 1)
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Within the next couple of months, you and Pentious undeniably formed a sort of....begrudging respect for one another. You found that he could sometimes be funny or charming, whether he intended it or not.

You still didn't have a salary, but you chose to stop bitching about it because after all, he was letting you stay at his house rent-free.

As time went by, you realized that things like getting out of bed and showering came easier to you. You smiled more and felt emotions other than mild discomfort and annoyance. You were eager to interact with the people(?) around you. All things that hadn't been common occurrences for a long, long time.

It nagged on you, what could've caused the sudden switch in attitude. You frequently caught yourself disassociating, wondering what happened in the last few months to make you content and maybe even happy with your current situation.

Maybe this was a part of your eternal torment, as all 'good' things were. Perhaps God was allowing you a lick of a sugar-coated reality, giving you the privilege to live in comfort. Softening you up and getting you used to a good life before tearing you from the warmth and leaving you for dead, letting you get washed up on the littered and grimy shore that was hell. Not even bothering to help.

That's where you always ended up. Alone, without love or comfort, and cold. So very cold.

You hoped that it would be different this time.

Nonetheless, after being around him for a while, you got an inkling that the dude was probably just...lonely. He often seemed glad to talk to you, rather than the stoic and professional front he put on when you first met him. Almost as if he saw you as a friend of sorts.

Around the two-week mark, he kind of just... stopped giving you things to do. Just let you hang around and do nothing, basically. You didn't complain.

He mostly did his work himself, but kept you around most likely for company. So you spent most of your days watching him tinker with various machines he'd invented and talking with him.

The two of you mostly chatted about trivial matters, such as politics or what flavor of Baja Blast you liked.

You actually had to take him to Taco Hell and have him try it, due to him not even knowing what a Baja Blast was.

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"So?" You inquired, walking out of the restaurant and lighting a cigarette.

He took a comically long sip, getting to know the flavored death chemicals partying on his tongue. He smacked his lips a couple of times before making his final ruling.

"It's too s-s-sweet,"
He hissed, setting it down on the concrete beside him.
"Needs to be darker. Like my soul."

"Must everything be about villainy with you?"
You scoffed, exasperated.
"C'mon, have a little fun, dude."

"Excuse you, you shall refer to me as 'sir' and 'sir' only!"

You rolled your eyes.

"Whatever."

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One of his motives that came up repeatedly was his desire to be 'hip,' as he'd like to say. He said it was a part of his ever-so-diabolical plan to rule Hell, but you lowkey doubted his reasoning. He probably thought he wasn't cool enough. Probably was insecure. Whatever the reason, he was determined to be one of the so-called 'cool kids.'