Satan's Little Helper

X V I I - [ C H R I S T I A N A ]

"HI THERE, welcome to Laundrette. How may I help you?" The ageing woman behind the counter says, a smile plastered on her wrinkly face. I notice that she was scribbling on a notebook before I came in, probably noting down customer names and whatnot.

"Um, yeah. I'm here to pick up laundry for..." I drift off, realizing that I don't know which name Daemon used to drop off his laundry. "Sorry, please excuse me for a moment."

She gives me an understanding nod before going back to what she was doing not too long ago.

Turning away, I take my phone out and pretend to call Daemon when in truth I could always communicate with him without so much as speaking out his name. I figured that it would be a little strange, though, if I just stand in the middle of the store communicating to Daemon silently, since obviously the woman wouldn't know what I would be really doing—she'd think that I'm just another one of those pesky teenagers pulling a prank on an old woman from the laundry—so I might as well let her listen to what I'll be saying to him.

"Uh, hey... Daemon?" I speak into my phone. "Which name did you use to drop off your clothes?"

Out of my peripheral vision, I see the woman give me a weird face as she looks up from her notebook. She stares at me for a good two seconds or so, before shrugging and looking back down.

Daemon, as expected, answers me telepathically, saying, Take a guess, Urmedvangraph.

"You do know that I know how to speak that language now, right?"

Another dirty look my way from the woman. I swear, she needs to learn how to mind her own business.

I do, My Sweet.

"Hmm..." Tired of the pointless conversation, I 'hung up' on Daemon to keep up my act and smile innocently as I turn back to the lady.

"I'm sorry, I just got the name," I say, waving my phone to emphasize my point.

"It's alright, dear." she says in a sickly sweet voice.

"Okay..." I shrug uncaringly. "So I need the clothes for a Rayner Montgomery?" What feels like an invisible force makes me spit out the name, but I've got a feeling it's Daemon, though, getting in my head again and whatnot.

Honestly, Daemon?

Yes, My Sweet?

Your names choices are terrible.

"Is that a question or a statement, honey?" She smirks.

Well look who's getting suspicious.

"Oh, a question." I reply, plastering a fake smile on my face before putting on a bored look instead. "Statement, of course."

"Oh I'm sorry, dear, I wouldn't have known which from your tone."

This woman is seriously testing my patience.

I give her a you don't say? look and she turns to enter the door behind the cashier, probably to look for Daemon's laundry.

While the woman is gone, I try breathing in and out as a form of meditation in an attempt to calm myself down, because let's face it: evoking the anger inside me isn't such a great idea now that I have all these powers.

After repeating the breathing exercises a couple more times, I feel myself relax a little and as if on cue, the woman returns with clean clothes that hung from a clothes hanger.

"Here you are, dear. Clothes for a Rayner Montgomery." She repeats my words, her intention to mock me evident in her facial expression.

Yeah, forget about all of those meditation crap.