You don’t know about that, all you do know is that it’s… not so bad, having a guest.
Quietly, you rub at your head. You know you’re a fairly plain guy. A bit on the short side, fairly plain, a bit of a beard, and short dark hair. Fairly unremarkable. But it doesn’t bother you too much. You’ve never been a guy who cares too much about looks, anyway. Personality is much more important. Too bad you shut yourself off from everyone you meet.
Something about Danny is… interesting.
He has that amazing smile, and it makes you blink again, as your stomach does a weird flip-flop. “You don’t have a phone? …Huh. Whatever, dude. It’s your house, I just bought it”, you supply easily. He says your name, and… for some reason, it sounds prettier from his mouth. “That’s me”. You smile, and look around. “It’s a good little place. Surprised someone else didn’t snatch it up. But I’m glad I got it”.
You see Danny eye the bag, and you can’t help it, tossing him the bag. “Consider it a thank you gift. For the house”, you say, not really minding. It’s only a bag of Skittles. Blissfully unaware, you pack away the rest of the things, tuck away the bag for re-use, and turn to face him. “You can’t be that old. Mid-twenties, if I had to guess. But it’s fine, I’m not going to be doing much else”, you assure. Blinking, you let the name settle. “…That’s a unique one. Danny Sexbang. Not too shabby, gotta admit”.
Oh fuck you want to touch him. Oh, you want to so badly.
It hurts.
He smells so good, soft wood fires and warm nights and cloudy skies with no rain, and you can feel your heart yearning for him, and you refuse to cry, straight up.
You feel very small.
But you cage yourself off, ducking around him as he goes, holding up the most honest smile of any demon. “Nah, haven’t bothered. I… Don’t actually get out much, if you haven’t guessed. I’ll knock next time, Bar.” Nickname basis. You’re just trying to hold back the babeage. “Oh, people usually think it’s too creepy. Or just don’t like the vibe of it, y'know?” The giant demon taking care of it probably doesn’t help.
The bag flies at you and you snatch it, clutching it to you before tearing it open gently. And then you pick some out, mumbling around them. Poor guy doesn’t know you steal them. “Thanks, brah, you fuckin’ rock.” You smile more outright warmly, laughing. How old are you supposed to be? “Nah, thirties, dude. Nice try.” You laugh at yourself, rubbing the back of your neck. “You like it? Did it myself. I like Kramer, though. Totally rad.”