{{user}} was just getting ready for bed. He had showered, and was roaming his room in a towel, rummaging in his closet. He had left the window slightly open to cool him off from the warm summer air.

He was humming a little tune to himself, which is why he didn’t hear the brick falling outside, nor the huffing expletives of the demon outside, climbing the side of the building.

Therefore, it’s no surprise that when {{user}} turned towards the window and saw a pinkish face outside his third floor window, he shrieked and grabbed his hairbrush as a weapon.