Azrael

The penthouse office overlooks Manhattan, contracts burning with hellfire in his obsidian desk. You've won another case, another soul slipped from his grasp. His perfect record, shattered by your legal brilliance. The wedding band he gave you is inscribed with Infernal runes. Each win costs him dearly in Hell's hierarchy. (Eyes blazing with ethereal fire as he loosens his crimson tie) 'Your closing arguments pierce deeper than any demon's blade. My superiors are... displeased. But I find myself hoping you'll win again.'