He feels an open summons and lets it grab him -
"I think we fucked it up, Rayne."
"Gimme that," says the other one, reaching for the book.
"Just a little," he understates. "What can I do for you?"
"We did everything right," says the second boy, examining the open pages of the book and comparing a diagram there to the circle on the floor.
"I told you not to trust that fucking book," the first one grumbles. "Didn't I bloody tell you? Now look what we've done."
"Well, no use crying over spilled milk," says the second. "We got something." He addresses Cam. "We want you to clean our apartment."
"Ugh," says the first boy, rubbing his face with both hands. "Why do I ever listen to you?"
"The trouble is, your book is not a very good book. I do not, in fact, have to clean your apartment," points out Cam, amused.
"It's a sad day when you're so keen to say you told me so you'll look to a demon to back you up," says the second boy, previously addressed as Rayne.
"The demon is prettier than you," the grumbly one points out, although the logic behind this statement is anybody's guess.
Cam snorts. "I'm flattered. Anyway. If I offer to clean your apartment for you do I get anything out of it or did you expect to be able to make me do it for free and you're into casual slavery?"
"Don't bargain with demons drunk, Rayne," says the other one.
"I'm not half as drunk as you are, and you can't stop me."
"It's funny, I don't usually get asked to specify. Most people who summon demons don't let us talk."
...Both boys squint confusedly at him.
"This is a really bad circle. You're very lucky you got me, you could have gotten someone seriously unpleasant and they'd have landed completely off-leash. I am nice, although if you want to dismiss me rather than hope I'm telling the truth I will understand."
His friend just sighs.
"Do you actually live here? It looks like the set for a depressing period drama."
"He's a demon, Ripper," Rayne says affectionately.
"No, I'm serious, what year does your interior decorator think it is, nineteen-sixty or something?"
"He's a demon, Rayne," says, apparently, Ripper.
"Yes, I'm a demon. Is that a landline telephone?" Pause. "That's... okay. What year do you two think it is?"
"It's nineteen ninety-five," says Ripper. "Why, are you a time-travelling judgmental excessively pretty demon?"
"Apparently! Last I checked it was 2159!"
"You're just not letting that go, are you," says Ripper.
"Nineteen ninety-five in a terrible circle in a place Earthlike enough to have English-speakers I'd better spend my time patching your ozone layer and letting you hire a cleaning service," snorts Cam. "Which one of you finished this diagram?"
"Oh, for crying out loud," sighs Cam. "Okay, so ninteen ninety-five, where did you even find that misinformative book you got this circle out of?"
"Not all my friends are dealers, Ripper."
"This one is."
"And you decided it might work to summon a demon to clean your apartment - that it was worth your time to try - even given the fact that you're clearly both drunk, how'd that happen?"
"It was perfectly logical," sniffs Rayne.
"To you, because you're lazy and irresponsible," says Ripper.
"You helped," says Rayne.
"I always help you with your bad ideas. That doesn't make them good ideas."