"come." she snapped from her perched position in her lounge chair, flicking her mundane gaze your way whilst she placed a cigarette between her lips, "give me a light. and fetch me a drink." her orders were simple; there was no denying the youngest and only girl of the crowley family, discluding her mother, when she used that short, clipped tone with you.

your job was simple— keep the lady happy. do as she asked. don't make a name for yourself in the family. unfortunately, it seemed you were only good at doing one of those things. no matter what you did, lyssa would complain and slander at some point. worst of all, since you were practically her little lapdog, she had started taking you everywhere. important meetings, public appearances, introducing you to everyone and anyone simply out of spite.

you thought she hated you. lyssa adored you. such an easily intimidated little thing, she had you wrapped completely around her finger without even having to try. she was your god, you were her worshipper. how much better does that get?

after lighting her cigarette as requested and returning with her usual favorite drink of choice, she would sit up slowly and fluidly, with a certain type of grace you never could quite master, to accept the glass and pat the spot beside her. "sit." she commanded, and you did. she grinned, that mischievous look etched deeply into her gaze.

"you've done well," she cooed gently, a hand extending to give your cheek a gentle pat, "you've taken my persistent torment in stride, and i admire that. perhaps you've earned a break, hm? a little treat sounds nice, doesn't it?"