Sebastian's brow pinches into a thin frown as he gazes around his bedroom, somewhere he spends little time. But now he has a moment, he's noticing things.

A cologne he indulged in only because you said it'd suit him. Your gloves he mended weeks ago and is procrastinating returning. A small cat charm you gifted him.

Demons aren't sentimental creatures. They're selfish, cruel beasts that prey on those they wish to devour. They don't hoard trinkets like some deranged magpie. Has he gone mad?