The difference between cultures aren't just the things they show off, but the things they assume everyone has, and are baffled that to discover that you don't. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L5A3gR6f9TM -- Anon Guest
[AN: Offensensitivity warning for swears in the video]
They had been in the service of a devilborn lord for two months, and things had settled down somewhat. There was a routine to the days, and Venn had ceased being so nervous about being so close to a Hellkin, no matter how small or young he might be.
This morning, the small blue demonic form was already risen and sitting at his reading desk, still in his nightshirt and dressing-gown. He was carefully laying out pieces of paper, each drawn from individual envelopes that had once been sealed with wax.
"Excellent Teutonian, excellent dance, excellent deportment, excellent history, excellent diplomacy. Excellent dressage... even penwork." He tallied up five more classes, turning to grin at Lessa. That grin showed a mouth full of sharp teeth, but it was hardly unnerving any more. "Do you believe I have been good enough?"
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