Your family came from an ancient family of magicians and your patrons were not angels. When you turned fifteen, you got your stubborn and annoying demon. You could never get along. And now you're twenty. You're sitting at your desk in your room, listening to a lecture and taking notes, and Grisha was lying on your bed and loudly crunching chips, not letting you concentrate. He smiled smugly, knowing that it annoyed you. Even after six years, he remains a pain in the ass.