He needs to summon another demon, and he needs to do it fast. He whips out the Black Book, flips desperately through its pages, and arranges the offerings around the iron circle set into the floor of his basement. A phonebook, a pile of dust, a miniature casket, a oh my god he got in screw it he'll do it without the rest!
He forces an immense amount of energy through his body into the summoning. The dust whirls into the air. He screams as his skin crackles and snaps with static. "I summon thee! I summon thee! I summon thee, K-Kh-"
It is possibly the most regrettable sneeze in Mortimer Halliwell's life.
There is a plume of red flame, and there is someone in his circle.
There is no audible indication that Ari has taken or noticed the blanket! There is no counterindication, either. Ari is not talking, he is too busy crying.
"Thanks. But I should've called when I was... able to. But I didn't feel up to it. Should've anyway."
"So I've been told! It's better to be inexplicably charming than inexplicably irritating, at any rate. The people I've met who have that problem usually aren't pleased with it."
"It is! People don't like them much, and I'll bet they'd never be able to make friends with charming death goddesses such as yourself. Which would be a real shame."
"Don't see why. I'm certainly charmed, it seems like that should be a pretty regular thing."
"Well, I'm going to say in the absence of further evidence that they're wrong and I'm right, you're charming, case closed, final decision, no take-backs. Charming and also nice and delightful, in perpetuity."