I narrowed my eyes. “We already have bread, do we not? Why acquire more?”
“It’s giving mid.”
I waited. Nothing followed. “It’s giving what?” I demanded. “You cannot end a sentence without completing it!”
“No cap,” she chirped.
I stopped pacing.
“Rizz,” she said.
“Define it,” I ordered.
Her answer was obscene. I recoiled. “That isnotcharm. That is indecency disguised as vocabulary.”
I tried to mimic her. “Am I speaking like a Bostonian now?”
“No.”
I ground my teeth. “I hate you with the passion of a thousand suns.”
“Would you like me to add passion fruit to your shopping list?”
I ignored her and pointed at the ceiling. “Modern curses. Teach me those instead.”
The demon obeyed. “Fuck. Shit. Bitch. Dickhead.”
I repeated them carefully, like learning an incantation. “Do people truly use all of these in one conversation?”
“Sometimes more,” she said pleasantly.
I nodded. “Good. I will blend.”
I tried a sentence. “Greetings, dickhead fuck bitch!”
She was silent for a long moment. Then: “You’re doing great!”
“Excellent,” I said, satisfied.
From down the hall, I heard Nadia’s muffled voice through the door. “Cristian, are you talking to Alexa again?”
I straightened. “No.”
“Are you swearing at her?”
“Possibly.”
“Don’t corrupt my speaker!”
“I would never corrupt your witch,” I called back. “She is already damned.”
Her laughter echoed faintly through the hall and wound brightly through the bond.
I stood there longer than I should have, listening to her laugh fade into soft humming again. The sound settled something in my chest I didn’t want to name.
I looked at the black cylinder. “Do not tell her about this.”
Alexa’s light twinkled once. “My lips are sealed.”
