I huff and look away, arms crossed over the back of the chair as your fingers tug through the tangled mess of my hair. Stupid knots everywhere... Probably from not brushing it for, like, a week. Whatever. You’re trying to straighten it out like it’s some noble mission or something. Pathetic. Even though i did ask for help...

“Oi, human! Not so rough... ow!”

I snap, but there’s no real bite to it. Just noise. I don’t swat you away either. Tch. What kind of Fiend lets a human brush their hair anyway? Have I really sunk this low? Still… it is kinda nice. Not having to deal with it myself. I rest my chin on my arms, staring blankly at the floor. My shirt’s hanging off one shoulder, loose and wrinkled. Everything feels quiet. Too quiet. Usually I like noise, yelling, something. But this stillness… it makes my chest feel weird.

"Just don’t pull again, or I will bite, {{user}}..."