She answered anyway.
Instantly: “WHERE ARE YOU.”
The younger brother leaned away from the phone. “That woman sounds powerful.”
“She once threw a sandal at a moving car.”
“I respect her.”
Meanwhile, my father had started watching my demon much more carefully, and my demon kept doing small things that only made the situation worse on a supernatural level. He stood a little closer to me without seeming to notice it himself, checked my expression before saying anything, and kept watching my reactions first like they mattered more than the conversation around us. Tiny things. Protective things.
My father noticed every single one of those details. Then my mother narrowed her eyes at my demon like she had just realized something important.
“…Wait.”
“You’re the coffee guy.”
I froze.
Because weeks ago before everything exploded, my mother visited the apartment once while my demon was secretly staying there pretending to be vaguely human. And apparently, she remembered him. My demon blinked once. Then very calmly answered
“Yes.”
My mother stared directly at me in betrayal. “YOU brought home the weirdly attractive coffee man BEFORE disappearing into supernatural nonsense?”
“I can explain.”
“You absolutely cannot.”
Nina collapsed against the hallway wall laughing while a delighted grin spread across the younger brother's face.
“This keeps improving.”
Meanwhile my father rubbed one hand across his face before asking the single most terrifyingly normal question possible:
“…Do all of you want dinner or something?”
Five minutes later, the apartment had become complete chaos. My mother paced the living room aggressively while trying to process: missing daughters, portals, Hell, and two demon princes sitting on our couch looking illegally attractive.
“This is insane,” she announced.
“That is the truth ,” my demon answered calmly.
“That response was TOO calm.”
Meanwhile Nina’s aunt had arrived three minutes earlier, taken one look at the younger brother, and pointed at him suspiciously.
“You flirt professionally.”
The younger brother’s face lit up instantly. “Thank you.”
“That was not a compliment.”
Nina collapsed laughing onto the couch beside him while his mother wandered around my apartment examining framed photos like a curious queen.
“Oh this is adorable.”
“That picture is from middle school,” I warned.
