[There it was. That conflict splayed out across the priest's face, while probably barely noticeable to mortals, was as bright as a neon light to Mukuro. He resisted the urge to lean forward, to drink it in, to swallow it in and feel it slide down his throat, smooth as honey. He can practically taste how close Chikusa Kakimoto was to him, how close he was to falling to depravity, and the sweet cloying meatiness of it made Mukuro impatient to taste more.

But instead he just wound his hands around the mug of tea, drinking in that expression. It would be enough for now.]

What would the rest of your clergy say if they knew? What would your mentor think?

[Oops, guess he couldn't resist twisting the knife a little further.

The question was barely worth answering, Mukuro flicking his bangs from his face in disinterest.]

It's not solely a demonic trait, I hope you're aware. It's a very human emotion.