What you see is never what you're gonna get.

Sark became painfully aware of the concrete as a demon with hair a color red that is usually reserved for cherry suckers and certain cars tackled him before he could get three feet from his car. For a brief moment, he wondered if evading the Organization for seventeen years had finally caught up with him. He knew when he joined up that it wasn't a group you could turn your back on and betray and expect to live, but he was always a huge risktaker, and, hell, he'd managed to keep under their radar for seventeen years, so he didn't he had done so badly in the long run.

He attempted to clamber to his feet, but the demon planted a stiletto-heeled boot on his chest and he grimaced in pain as the heel dug into a spot on his sternum that was still tender even though that wound was a good twenty years old now. His aviators had fallen askew when he hit the ground and he glanced above the frames to get a good look at his assailant- she looked like a teenager, but demons' looks could be deceiving. There was a certain look to her eyes that suggested youth, however, which, really, would make this all the more irritating. Evade capture for years and get taken down by a teenager- there's some subtle bit of irony in that.

"Hi, Daddy."

"We would hate to impose on you," the Weevil went on, staring down at the little bundle in her arms. It wriggled and cried out and with a warbling that sounded like two gears grinding together, the Weevil gently shushed it. That done, she looked back up and Sark had to turn away if only to press the flat of his palm against his forehead to see if that might calm the raging headache he felt coming on. "You have done so much for us in slaying the sewer dragon."

"Well, we were in the area. No trouble at all, really." Sark was suddenly very glad he was trying to fend off a headache and therefore wasn't looking at Harkness. If he had to stare at that smug, heroic grin he could just imagine on his face, he was going to throw up. 

The Weevil went on for a bit about how their heroic deeds would be written down in their (regrettably small, at the present) archives and songs would be sung about how they slayed the dragon that had been terrorizing their people for months, and Sark wished that people would stop calling him noble. Really, between the Weevil and Ragnar, his reputation was completely shot.

"-And the prophecy..."

( I know I created it, but I never planned it. )