“I have a lot of bottled up emotions about you, yknow?” Arona whispered hurriedly to Diego.

She groaned and swore as an unmistakable ‘whoosh’ sounded near her left shoulder.

“Break the bottle,” came the irritatingly scratchy voice in her left ear.

“For fuck’s sake, Uzgannon,” the blonde sighed again. “That’s - that’s not how metaphors wo-”

“Where is it?” the voice growled. “If you too scared, Uz can.”

Arona rubbed her temples in despair as her rehabilitating demon ambled over to the terrified, frozen form of her friend and crush.

“You have the bottle, friend?” Uzgannon snarled. Their acidic spit sizzled where it landed on Diego’s chin. The grown man whimpered in response.

Arona inhaled deeply and drew on every iota of her counsellor training. She needed to look past her mortification in this moment - look past her friend and love-interest on the verge of pissing himself as her demon stared him down. She needed to calmly, and gently, remind Uzgannon of polite social conventions.

“Uz,” she called softly. The demon’s head whipped around 180° to face her.

“Friend?” they chirped, like some mutated hell-bird.

“Uz, I need you to take two big steps back, buddy. Okay?” Arona asked.

Uzgannon complied, casting their giant, red, round eyes and trembling lips towards their carer.
“Uz in trouble?” they wailed.
...