Crone’s chest rose and fell in a rhythmic pattern as air slowly inflated and escaped his lungs. To the touch, his body felt rather cold, as if he still believed himself to be an animate artwork with no internal organs or blood. Nighttime had been kind on him. He had slept through the night like a baby, with no real remembrance of the impending dreams that tried to haunt him. Soon, sunlight broke its way through Hana’s bedroom curtains and filtered through Crone’s eyelashes. “Mn...<span style="font-style: italic">stop</span>it,” a drowsy mumble unconsciously sounded from his lips, raising his arm to press aimlessly at the air in front of him. In his sleep, he just so happened to prod a hand at Hana’s cheek, who had stumbled into his lap to secure her phone. “Sir, you can’t tell me to do that...” His torso raised, somehow alerted to the new warmth and scent in the mattress. He sniffed the air. Raised his eyelids. Stared. “What?”<br/><br/>Waking up to the witch’s back wasn’t exactly what he expected to find in the morning. He thought, perhaps, it could be some sort of customary waking up call in the human world. Assuming this were the case, he promptly sat upright and leaned towards Hana, eventually resting his head on her shoulder with a long, exaggerated yawn. “‘Good’ morning? More like<span style="font-style: italic">bad</span>morning... Why does sleeping still make me feel tired? Goodness, are humans weak.” He rubbed around his eyes, unsure why she had appeared there but happy to treat her like a pillow nonetheless. In animal instinct, his nose quietly whistled as he observed the scent of her clothes. Seeing as they were going to have to cooperate for the time being, he may as well remember her tracking scent in case he somehow got lost in this confusing, complicated land of the living.<br/><br/>Once the man had come about his wits, he gripped onto the side of Hana’s bed to prop himself up onto his feet, weaving his legs away from Hana. His balance was still a little shaky, but he was slowly coming to terms with this strangely vertical form, combing through his hair with long, rushed strokes of the hand. Whilst Hana was still sitting down, he reached out to pat her on the head, ruffling her brown ribbons of hair. “So, uh, what’s your.. Uhm, what do they call it... Um.. Oh! Yes, what’s your<span style="font-style: italic">‘routine’</span>for today?” He tilted his head curiously like a wolf listening to its pack leader, internally proud of himself for remembering the english word for it. From what he’d seen in the past, every human had a different method and strategy of going about their lives. This was fascinating to Crone, as in the underworld, all creatures basically did very similar things to each other; hunt, eat, sleep and scare. He had contemplated trying to kill Hana in this form, but Crone took his ventures with her as a learning experience. Maybe this were his way to stand out in the demon world and kill more effectively once he became his selfish self again. Seeing Hana as a potential source for information on human lifestyle, who knew, it could probably be even a little fun to ‘see where your food came from before putting it on your plate’, so to speak.<br/><br/>Stretching his limbs in an open space of the room, Crone took a second to look outside the bedroom window before a desperate growl erupted from his stomach. “Oh<span style="font-style: italic">right</span>, I didn’t even end up eating anything last night, ughhh...” he mumbled, turning to face Hana with a small pouty face and humour in his puppy eyes. “<span style="font-style: italic">Please</span>tell me you have some sort of mortal substitute for the atmospheric pressures and densities of human souls. Please?”