Helena gave the succubus, Valerie, a grateful smile when she knocked on the door for her. Although she wasn't so sure it would make a difference to Clay whether she had someone knock for her or just kept shouting his name.<br/><br/>Indeed it didn't. She grimaced ever so slightly as the fierce refusal to see anyone reached her ears. Shrugging, she went through the door anyways without bothering to force it open. Clay was lying on his bed, cuddled up in his own little cocoon of stubborn anger. She sighed and sat down near his feet. An almost empty pill box sat on the small nightstand. Next to it was a syringe that looked like something straight out of a cheesy, exaggerated horror game. It's contents were probably nasty enough to give even<span style="text-decoration: underline">her</span>nightmares. She smiled and patted the fluff of blankets next to her.<br/><br/>"Again, Clayton? Really, for how long have you taken these? Shouldn't you be used to it by now?" She pulled her legs up under her, sitting cross-legged on his bed. "Was your memory the first thing that rotted away?"