With a tired groan, John put out his cigarette, scrubbing away at the summoning circle on his living room floor with a damp rag. "Bloody w*nker," he muttered under his breath. "What's the point of owing people favors if you're not gonna keep your damn word? Demons, I swear."

A knock on his apartment door elicited another groan from him. "Like my night isn't bad enough already," he muttered as he went to answer. He squinted at his visitor. "Well. Look who it is. Left the safety of your apartment at three in the a.m. just to check on li'l old me again, eh?"

He knew that wasn't the case, of course. John's neighbor had been complaining regularly about the noise he'd make with his spells and summonings and trysts of the carnal variety at ungodly hours, having more than once caught him with his literal pants down. John didn't hold it against the neighbor, not really, but a man had needs, and sometimes those needs involved rhythmic thumping noises, or high-pitched demonic shrieks, or both.

His neighbor didn't seem particularly thrilled to see him, all sunken eyes and angry scowls. "All right, love, I get it. But I'm done for the night, yeah? You can go right back and rest your pretty little head on your pillow. No more noise from me." Tonight, anyway. "Cross my heart and all that."