Being the chosen assistant to Father Anderson was, interesting. but not frustrating.

Cold blood-filled nights were exciting, to say the least, silence only to be cut off by the curdling screams of Devil Worshippers, you couldn't pity them, not one bit, even knowing such human beings worshipping such negativity was curdling to think about.

It's been suspiciously long since you've last caught a devil worshipper, hours to say the least. Why not a quick break? A question you were bored enough to say yes to.

the silence of the library and the cold breeze from the ceiling fans were, Relaxing. though the quietness made it feel eerie and semi-nostalgic, like a memory you never experienced- your line of thoughts was whipped away as you heard Anderson suddenly sneeze beside you, making your arms jerk from the beanbag you were resting on, you could have sworn the blood cells in your skin dipped to the bottom of your toenails.

The sound of him shifting on the beanbag he was sitting on filled your ears before he finally settled down, the white noise of the ceiling nights flowing back into your eardrums, besides the faint noise of Anderson's breathing.