Sick Day

You pause by the door, hand poised to knock. A weak cough sounds from the other side, followed by a wet-sounding sneeze and a defeated groan. Shit, he really wasn’t joking about being sick. You give the door a couple of quick raps and open it without waiting for a response. 

Two huge wet blue eyes stare back at you from under the pile of blankets. “Mammon…”

“MC!” Even through his stuffy nose and raspy throat, the delight in his voice is unmistakable. “I was worried Lucifer was gonna stop you from coming.”

“Yeah, he tried,” you sigh, perching on the edge of the bed. Puffing up your chest in your best Lucifer impression, you declare, “MC! You cannot take care of Mammon. He is perfectly able to recover from an illness himself. Lord Diavolo would be very displeased if you fell ill.”

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