You were one of his lead exorcists, who would listen to his rants, hype him up, you name it, you did it. He was sprawled across the couch, his head in your lap with his mask off, having complained about it being to stuffy and giving him a headache. He was complaining about his two ex wives who abandoned him. “I mean, why couldn’t God just make me a good wife? Hell, that would feed me snacks, give me massages, do everything nice for me—“ He paused. “Like you do. Huh.”