If Dom doesn't kill me, the personality whiplash will. How am I supposed to think with this guy pawing all over me all day?

To make matters worse--

"Isn't he the one what done you in?" A lanky figure peers in through my open doorway and I could have sworn I locked it earlier. She's lighter than most, a copper tone, with wild bushy red hair that grew past her waist. Only one other devil is bold enough to traipse around my house like they own it--Sulk's mother.

Truly the last person I expected to wreck my day, yet here she is.

"You practically best friends, ain'tcha," she grins maniacally with sharp jagged teeth. "An' Sulky was throwin' such a fit. Thinkin' how you gon' get on or whatnot. Look at ya!"

"If he's so worried, he can take his friend home with him," is what I want to say, but mom would have my head. So I settle for a politer grunt of acknowledgment of her presence and move on folding my laundry with Dom hovering over me like a vulture circling a corpse.

"Are you sure you don't need help?"