Dareka grumbled and snapped his fingers. His clothes changed to black pants and a black tanktop with a hot pink long sleeve shirt over it.

Konya raised a brow, “That’s what you’re going to wear?”

“Yes,” Dareka nodded. “It is. So don’t stare.”

“What are you, gay?” Konya chuckled. “No one wears something that pink.”

Dareka glared, “Just go already.”

Konya waved, pulling on a blue hoodie as he walked into the hall. “Fine… Annoying angel.”

“Annoying mortal.”

Konya glared back to Dareka. The angel followed him down the hall to the kitchen and just at the table. Konya sat himself down and began to serve himself up some pancakes, eggs and bacon.

Dareka glared at him, standing across from him.

“Aren’t you hungry, dear?” Konya’s mother asked sweetly.

“No, I ate before I came over.” Dareka smiled sweetly to her.

“…Angel.” Konya grumbled. Dareka sure did look like an angel: pretty red eyes, flat smoothed chocolate hair, flawless skin, and that black and hot pink made him look like the model.

“So how do you know Konya?” she asked, pouring her son a cup of orange juice.