Crone hummed in sheepish satisfaction during her positive review, at this human camouflage that mortals described as ‘fashion’... Until she commented on the shoes. A childish puffy-face flashing across his complexion, he made his way towards the garage, briefly sitting down to untie them and set the pair aside. It would do them well not to stress out too much, he thought, so Crone didn't bother with his usual sassy retorts for now. Hana's aura definitely spiked way too uncomfortably for Crone whenever she was too potent of a single emotion. And you know what the saddest thing was about that notion, at the end of the day? If Crone tried to kill and consume her, he would lose his only chance of ever becoming a beautiful, fully functional demon again. Sigh.<span style="font-style: italic">Hashtag: first underworld problems - kill me now…</span>As if it were even possible to, anyway.<br/><br/>He took a sharp, collected breath as he stood back onto his feet, black socks cuffing his ankles. Thinking about it, things could've been worse. However much the pessimistic demonic spirit inside of him wanted to call these the worst days of his life, she<span style="font-style: italic">did</span>trust him enough to not ‘voodoo-magic’ him away into a jar of pickles or something. It was kind of nice to think of it that way. Trust. Crone had only ever experienced the noun through trust inherently being in the nature of his previous contract-bound work, albeit the stern side of trust; of his master knowing that Crone would serve them as faithfully as a dog. Without such a permanently binding document in place, it felt rather refreshing to do things not because one felt bossed to, but because one had to… Did it make a demon like him a sadist to enjoy struggling like this with an obviously lamer, mortal witch? God, was Crone good at making himself internally laugh.<br/><br/>Crone made himself a glass of water and sunk his upper body onto the counter, propping his forearm up to his lips for the laziest access to the drink as possible, as Hana started rambling about their stupid yet mysterious neighbour. “A barrier spell, ey? Sounds fancy,” his lips quirked, raising his eyebrows to look over the pages she was reading. He wasn’t great at reading the human tongue in prose. The symbols and overly complicated shapes were too confusing to bother learning, but he could make out a few words here and there that he had needed to know in the past. He noticed her groan as she read over a certain phrase. Putting two and two together, the words ‘forest herbs’ and ‘nighttime’ gave him an idea.<br/><br/>“Seriously. Do you still not know that your aura can be so irritating? Such a worrywart!” Sculling down the water and setting it down, he frowned, stood back upright and moved over to her side of the counter, poking her on the back of the head. “As much as we both hate it, I’m going to bloody pretend I’m in a contract with you so that we can learn to work together and try to get rid of all of our problems. And eventually, each other.” A small smile formed on his face. “The forests just around the other side of town? I know ‘em like the back of my paw. Er.<span style="font-style: italic">Hand</span>. I’m not a shabby protector, y’know.” Puffing his chest, he swiftly slid behind Hana, patting her on her arched back. “If you translate the recipe, I might be able to locate some of them.” His speech turned more melodious to the ear, more persuasive, more daring as he fell into character of the ‘contracted demon’. And like any other contracting ritual, he sealed their newfound partnership with a encasing embrace. He hoped that a nerdy witch like her would know of the immense weight carried behind this symbolic gesture amongst the supernatural. At the risk of his dignity, he entrusted a little piece of faith to her, reaching his hands over her arms and entwining his fingers together in front of her.<br/><br/>But that wasn’t all that had embraced them. Not even half a moment had gone by before the kitchen was encased in a sudden, swelling explosion of smoke! The grey matter swirled around them in a calm vortex, but unlike most smoke that rose to the ceiling and would set off the fire alarm, it simply sank to the floor, seeming to pool away into the shadows and cracks of the floor.<br/><br/>Crone yelled in shock, but realised his body weight felt much heavier to stand up. And maybe that wasn’t a yell at all, maybe it was the sharp yelp of a silvery blue wolf! Crone found his long wolf muzzle and fluffy limbs flopped onto the surprised Hana below him. It wasn’t his usual, brushwork-looking, winged, demon self; instead, the man had transformed into a wolf of the earth. Holy hell!<br/><br/>Taken back, the wolf jumped off of Hana and fell backwards, long claws clicking along the floor surface as he jolted away to look at himself. But as soon as he took merely five strides away from Hana, another burst of smoke exuded from him and he found a lankier body back in Hana’s brother’s rather plain fashion sense, in comparison to the gorgeous fur he had only briefly but intensely witnessed. Snapping his head to Hana, he looked at her with a face that said ‘did you just see that?!’ before running back over to her… Or rather, trying to stand up, but the shock in weight balance pinned him to the floor for what felt like the longest moment.<br/><br/>“Holy-! Hana, come over here, this herb-collecting mission demands my presence now! You are a voodoo-makin’ machine today!” Realising how desperate the words sounded, entranced lips puckered a chuckle as he impatiently patted the ground beside him.