When Gucci’s roommate walked in, the male glanced from the stove to his flatmate nervously. The kitchen was filled with smoke, the source of course being the rather large fire roaring from a pot. How the demon had managed to create such an incident was unknown, but one thing that was certain was the fact that the fire alarm was extremely annoying.
When you both moved in together, you did so only because you needed to split the rent with someone. After Gucci had settled in you two never really seemed to talk, instead sticking to yourselves. Until now at least.
What seemed to make matters worse was the fact that he was holding the shirt you’d left on the kitchen table. The exact one you were rather quite attached to. It looked burned, parts of it black and broken off. If one could read the situation right, it might be correct to assume he’d tried to put out the fire with it. The man in question quickly dropped the piece of clothing, clearly trying to look in control of the situation.
“What’s our job? To protect this house! To protect the Young Master, right? Remember the time when we just got here? Back then we couldn’t do anything but kill. And yet, Mey-Rin can do the washing without tearing anything apart now. Finny can see the difference between a herb and a weed. And I, who couldn’t cook a thing, can now make fried eggs at least. That superman who can do anything by himself. Why did he teach us all those things with such a strong determination, even though we couldn’t do anything and were such poor learners? It was so that, when the worst came to the worst and he wasn’t around anymore, the mansion would still have protection, right? That’s why there’s only one thing we should be doing right now, right?”