Satan's Little Helper

X V I - [ D A E M O N ]

"I MADE YOU A LIST while you were gone." I say, handing Feia a scroll made up of human leather. I mean, seriously—would you really go back to using paper after you've had a feel of the finest material out there?

Feia, who's returned from lying to her parents yet again, eyes it skeptically for a brief moment and raises an eyebrow at me before snatching it from my hands to further examine the material.

"What the hell is this thing?" She asks, brows knitted together in curiosity.

"Language, My Sweet." I scold, earning a glare from her that was intimidating enough to possibly make a grown man piss his pants in fear.

"Oh, please. Don't pretend you don't curse yourself." She rolls her eyes, and rubs one edge of the scroll with her thumb. "Is this leather?"

"Human leather." I correct, proudness clearly emanating from my voice. "The finest quality, made from the most innocent of them all."

"What's up with the meanest?"

"Their skins are disgusting," I shake my head, picturing the skin of the evilest men alive. "So callous, so tainted. Why would we go for their skin when us demons have the same, but are still of better quality?"

Feia is suddenly in front of me, and she tips my chin up with her one index finger. "And how about mine, My Lord? How does mine feel?"

Sweat threatens to break out around my forehead as I try to find a good answer for that—Satans are rarely ever speechless, and I intend on keeping it that way.

"It, uh... It felt..."

Alright, never mind.

Laufeia rolls her eyes playfully. "I was joking, Daemon. You and I both know that you love it anyways." I open my mouth to (partly) deny it, but Feia isn't done and continues talking. "Evil as I might be, my skin is rich and deliciously supple and you know it." Throwing me a final wink, she tosses her hair back and starts reading from the list.

My lips slightly ajar, I stare at her in part awe and part embarrassment. She doesn't seem to notice, however, and keeps on reading from the scroll.

"You know, your handwriting's pretty good for a demon." She comments, eyes still on the sheet of leather.

I let out a short, dry laugh before putting on an immediate straight face. "Funny."

"Wait, what's this?" She asks, pointing at a number. "Pick up laundry? What the hell?"

"Oh, that's exactly how it sounds like." I answer, smirking. "You know that laundry just a couple of blocks down from your house?"

"You have got to be kidding me."

"On the contrary, My Sweet. I am actually dead-serious."

"What..." She drifts off, looking somewhat baffled. "You don't even wear a shirt! What, could you possibly have, in the fucking laundry?"

I shrug a shoulder nonchalantly. "Pants, mostly. And probably a couple of sets of underwear. You may take one as a tip." I wink, making her right eye twitch as if she had eaten something sour.

"Oh, fuck me." She groans and shakes her head in disbelief.

"Oh," I say, amusement evident in my voice. "Why don't you wait for me in my bedroom, yes? I'll cater to your needs in a moment." Feia stays completely still, but gives me a look that could send a burglar running for their sorry ass. She has this look, My Little Feia, in which it might be the twenty first century's equivalence of Medusa's stare. "What? Don't tell me you forgot the way to my bedroom already."