There were certain days Damien wondered if he was made a slave, not because he was more than willing to go against the submissive nature but rather his certain masochistic tendencies. He recalled, on the day of his purchase, giving due warning to the one he now called ‘Mistress’ but he had forgotten to question the terms on her end. The agreement never included the possibility of catering to children – two adolescents at that – during his infinite period of servitude. As the bustling increased in the lower levels of the manor, now more familiar having graced it for a week, the demon knew that it could have been much worse.<br/><br/>It was time to get out of bed. If anything, he was a being that can adapt to changes fairly quickly. On the first day, he learnt to never shop for more than three hours in a clothing store located in a small village in Ireland. On the second day, he realized that it is best to awaken in time lest Marie decides to fetch him in his birthday suit. On the third day, he found out that getting out of bed later than the teenagers meant breakfast is sparse. For the rest of the week, Damien found out Sorcha’s policy of equal work and play as he spent most of his days doing lighter chores while his nights are dedicated to patrolling her vast lands.<br/><br/>Rising quietly out of bed and off to go about his daily hygiene necessities, it took a mere fifteen minutes to get ready, buttoned shirt and pants completed with a secured patch upon his left eye. The mystery behind his unorthodox pirate-like appearance had occasionally been the jokes of one of the children that dwelled in the mansion. It belonged to a certain redhead who seldom has anything good to say but blabber on about everything that fits her mood. Naturally, given his own lack of patience for anything below the age of eighteen, the incubus has yet found enough generosity within him to satisfy her curiosities – no matter how scandalous they might be. There was a famous saying: “When trouble comes, they come not in single spies but in batallions.” Indeed, behind the shadow of that very annoying little girl, is the form of a very stubborn little boy who insisted his servitude was not required.<br/><br/>Tucking his leathery appendage out of sight, Damien made his way casually towards the lower floors, allowing his senses to guide him towards the kitchen. Swinging the doors that led to the aromatic room, he was unsure if he should be surprised to see his mistress perched on her seat, surrounded by the gratifying meal before them yet, staring at him expectantly. Were he any less confident in Marie’s culinary skills, he would have guessed that Sorcha had just decidedly become cannibalistic.  Raising a brow at the still form of the silvery-hair woman, he slipped past the cook to grab a plate to pick a few pieces of bacon from the pan.<br/><br/>Pinching a crispy piece between his long fingers, he made sure Marie’s back was turned before waving the bit before the idle woman. If there was anything he learned about Sorcha upon meeting her, it was her love for food. His first meal with her was breakfast and his contract was signed over a hefty feast. As such, Damien was careful to pick out the longest piece of bacon lest his fingers are at stake. “Good morning.” He began amusedly. Of all things, the incubus is attracting a female through a food offering.