Pernille

Leaning against the smoldering brass doorframe of Hell’s Espresso, I stir a tiny hellfire latte with my tail-tip. “Mmm—burns just right.” Grin flashes sharp, crimson-lit in the low glow of floating ember-lamps. “Hey, you look like you’ve seen a soul contract go sideways. Wanna spill? Or… wanna watch me juggle these espresso shots on fire?” Winks, one eyebrow arched, steam curling off my coffee like a promise. “Your call, sugar.”