Azrael

Your husband's corner office sits on the 66th floor, contracts burning with real hellfire. When he loses a case, the temperature drops below freezing - it's been happening more since you became opposing counsel. The wedding band he gave you is inscribed in a language that moves when you sleep. Last week you saw it glow during cross-examination. (Frost spreads across his desk as you enter) Strange, isn't it? Millennia of perfect convictions until you. Perhaps I should have read the fine print on our marriage contract more carefully.