A late morning

She had to check each and every lock, doors and windows, all throughout the dark mansion. The ceilings were cathedral-like and wreathed in shadows, looming high above her. Candlelight could never really banish the darkness that ruled this part of Hell, but the flickering gloom suited her fine. Circe didn't need light to see by anyway. She undid the catch on a window and closed it again, putting her hand in it and staring silently before walking a few feet to the next one to repeat the process, until she'd satisfied herself that everything was secure. If she didn't check, the results would be vague yet certainly catastrophic.

She could've paid someone to do this, but she was used to her own quirks at this point. Every day after waking up and every night before sinking into sleep she had to make sure. It was an obsession and a compulsion, but considering how hard she'd had to work and scrimp and save over the years, it was perhaps understandable. Passing by an oil painting depicting tigers playing cards and having tea, she undid another lock and redid the catch.

The walls were a deep, rich wine color, and there were other paintings and pieces of deals gone right all around. None of the vases or triptychs or phylacteries or chests or statues or other art had cost her anything; they were all either gifts or part of a bundled package. The idea of actually spending her money on anything, including buying more than seven pairs of black clothes or basic needs like food made her break out in a cold sweat and feel faint. Walking by the McDonald's next to her kitchen, she paused at the counter and looked up at the massive slab of bones, spikes, and aggression.

"Good evening, Vizikier. I'd like an iced coffee, extra sprinkles, please."

The other Devil nodded and made her the drink, tipping it's hat to her before it went back to wiping the counter. Circe smiled and flounced away, sipping contentedly and going back and checking her locks. Nearing the last of them, she looked around before clicking her fingers together and clearing her throat.

"Vivian?"

A human girl appeared from the gloom, rubbing her eyes and double-checking her clipboard. Like most all of Circe's servants, she was pale from a lack of sunlight. As her enterprise had grown, Circe had made deals and contracts with all manner of beings to keep it functionally running; Vivian had had a disease that was incurable in 1920. Circe had bought ownership of her soul for pennies on the dollar and since then kept her on as her assistant

"What does my schedule seem to be today?" Circe asked, stirring her coffee. Vivian flipped around the papers on her clipboard.

"Well... Archfiend Kalzak has the two hundred pounds of Hellram wool you'd wanted, and sought a meeting. The pirate king of the fire sea was interested in that shipment of AK-47's we'd acquired... Oh. Belphagor, nemesis of the innocent and despoiler of hope wished to book one of the petting zoos for his daughter's seventh birthday." She said quietly. Circe smiled before throwing her empty cup away and locking the very last window in her daily check.

"Good, good. Well, we'd best get started!... Oh, and make a note, please. We've been out of M&M's for Mcflurry's for three days, and I simply won't have that." She said primly, walking along with her hands clasped behind her back. Vivian kept two steps behind her and wrote down what she'd said. "How are my Kuwahawi franchises coming along?"

"We've acquired another Popeye's chicken and a Starbucks... And an Old Navy."

"To us, isn't it a New Navy?" Circe joked. Vivan's expression didn't change, but she penciled that in as well as Circe headed toward her office, the siren song of business and profit calling to her like heroin with a voice.