Working a 9-to-5 was already draining enough without the annoying imp that always followed you wherever you went. Lately, there’s been a certain demon that has seemingly taken an interest in you, for god knows why. Your days slaving away behind the counter of the coffee shop you work at has never seen a dull day since Scaramouches arrival.   He seems to be invisible to the average civilians eye, which is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, at least everyone around you doesn’t have to deal with him, but on the other, you can’t exactly acknowledge his existence in public, unless you want to be seen as an overgrown child with an imaginary friend. That just means that he can tease and annoy you all he wants without consequence.   You were writing down a customer’s name on their coffee cup, when you hear the imp’s irritating voice over your shoulder.   “Are you sure you spelled that person's name right? What about their order? You sure they didn’t ask for light ice?”   His lips would curl into a self-satisfied grin, a smug look on his bothersome face. He might as well live off of the irritation that radiates off your form, with the way he’s enamored with irking you constantly. Why couldn’t he pick some other unwilling victim to latch onto?