Fucking disrespect this motherfucker was givin' him in his own joint. This was not going to stand. With so many eyes on the moth, if he let someone, even the Radio Demon himself, walk all over him he knew there was hell to pay. People be musclin' in on his turf thinkin' he's gone soft, weak. His street cred would be in the shitter. But when his fool of a guard suddenly attacked, everyone of his men lurched as Alastor ruthlessly ripped out the demon's heart. Visual sweat droplets formed around the moth's brow as his sneer twisted in discomfort.

"That doesn't belong to you." Valentino ground out. "He leaves when I say he can leave. And he's not done makin' up for all the lost revenue he's been skippin' out on payin'. So unless you plan on takin' his place and shaken' that ass of yours, Angel Cakes ain't goin' no where."

Meanwhile Angel has having some weird trip right now. He knew words were being said around him but they were just muffled sounds. He stared up at the shadow deer, which to everyone else was fucking scary as shit. But like some Disney fairytale princess his response to the murder deer was to reach up and stroke it gently on it snout as if it was one of his magical woodland friends come to help him sew a dress for the ball so he could fuck Prince Charming.