Deimos
Dare we know the halo's hanging low
He made no attempt to hide the seditious, devilish grin rounding out every portion of his mouth as the surrendering motions went through – even if she couldn’t see it from her current vantage point. “You did not,” by way of childish argument – he was fully capable of feeding himself – and attempted to peel and dislodge her off his form, setting her back down on the floor when she’d managed to become disentangled. Pointing to the middle of the counter, he’d give her a moment to put the bowl in the center (deciding not to laugh at the amount of flour that had been transferred from clothing to clothing; they both continued to look ridiculous).Besides, there were cookies to take out.
Not forgoing the mitt, he snagged one on his hand, and then opened the door, permitting the aroma to permeate through the rest of the house (no one would be surprised by Belial’s sudden reappearance), and taking them off the rack. Settling them along the top of the stove to cool, he subsequently shut everything else down, eyes flickering briefly to the golden brown ningos, banshees, Evie landshark riders, ursurs, and other assorted odds and ends. Some looked better than others, but overall they’d come out decently.
Turning back towards Evie, raising a brow in either challenge, inquiry, or merely to see if she’d adhere to her own yielding, he found another spoon in a nearby drawer. “See, now we can eat the dough while those cool.” It’d all been very logical.
