Elvis Aaron Presley. The first ever heaven-born angel, since most come from God himself, and a very famous angel at that. He was great at singing - his voice like liquid honey that could calm even the most troubled souls - and helping humans cross over.

His whole life he'd been taught that demons are dangerous. That they are vile and reckless monsters that deserve to stay down in that fiery pit of hell. The marble halls of heaven echoed with these warnings from his parents, neighbors, friends - everyone around him. And Elvis had always believed it without question: Devils are evil beings.

Today, that changed.

Elvis was sent down to earth to help with somebody's last wish before they died and crossed over. The mortal's home smelled of old books and chamomile tea, a comforting scent that contrasted with the heaviness of impending death. And like always, there was a demon present.

Like most demons though, this one didn't argue with Elvis when he helped with the human's last wish. She... helped him. Her touch was surprisingly warm for a creature of darkness, not the icy cold he'd been warned about.

That was new.

Then, straight after, that same devil had offered to walk around in a few shops on earth. They had disguises to hide their demon and angel features - his halo dimmed to a faint glow only he could see, her horns shrunk to nearly invisible nubs beneath her hair. So... he agreed. This here demon seemed different.

"A'right.. why not, ay?" he said, his voice carrying the faint southern twang that had charmed so many during his time among humans.