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"YOU'RE NOT ROBBING A BANK, MICHAEL," Molly rolled her eyes in exasperation, flopping frustratedly back onto the bed beneath her.
"Well you're the one that wants to leave so badly, unless your father gave you the ability to grow money what else do you suggest?" He fired back, raising his eyebrows intelligently as he leaned against the door to their bedroom. Michael had heard all about the rivalry between Molly and his foster mother, like a pot that had been steadily boiling until it's contents were about to bubble over the edge.
It wasn't rocket science - Molly was uncomfortable living with the Satanist, despite Michael's promises that she was safe. She didn't underestimate her own abilities if it came to fighting Mead off, but she imagined there were dozens of other things she could do to get back at her for simply existing.
The girl's paranoia was only growing by the day - particularly after watching a TV viewing of Mel Gibson's The Passion of Christ. Michael had found her horror watching it rather amusing, but Molly was far from entertained. If her predecessor was so easily taken down by trusting the wrong person, who's to say she wouldn't be as equally betrayed. She didn't dare to think that there was a possibility her father hadn't completely abandoned her for starting an illicit relationship with the enemy.
"You don't know what it's like living with that woman when she hates you," Molly shook her head, leaning up onto her elbows and narrowing her eyes. "Haven't you noticed a 50% increase in upside down crucifixes around the house? Just the other day she lifted one to me and said, 'it's insane how this was all it took to take down the one before you. I wonder what'll end up stopping you, a wooden spoon maybe?' And then started laughing maniacally."
"She's only messing with you," Michael tried to comfort her, although he was struggling to keep his amusement from showing on his face. "It's not like she'd actually attempt to kill you."
"She took out all the marshmallows from my box of Lucky Charms," Molly deadpanned with a raise of an eyebrow, "the woman's a psychopath."
At this, Michael couldn't withhold his laughter any longer - especially given the serious expression Molly had adopted. He didn't doubt his stand-in mother was spending all her energy harassing and frightening the Second-Coming, but he knew it was perfectly harmless. Mead knew better after the first time than to cross him again.
"What's our plan, anyway?" She prompted suddenly, somewhat hesitant. When his head tilted in confusion, she elaborated. "We've been avoiding the elephant in the room for days now. Don't you think we should talk about... this? Whatever this is? Am I supposed to call you my boyfriend?"
"Don't you think the terms 'boyfriend and girlfriend' are a little trivial for the two most powerful beings in the world?" The corners of his lips rose in a smirk at his own words, crossing the room as she sat up and placing his hands on the bed on either side of her hips, his face inches from her own. Her breath hitched from the intensity he was looking at her with - as if he could see straight through her dark toned skin and into her mind.
