He doesn’t need a demon. There’s nothing in his life, the cycle of quick sex and quick cash, that would be changed by having one. They’re just baubles for the kind of people who have baubles.
He doesn’t want a demon. He just wants to find a way out of this maze of a house before someone finds him instead. It’s still dark but people will be waking soon, and he’d rather not have to deal with an angry wife or scandalized parents.
It’s still dark and he rests his hand where it shouldn’t be and suddenly his head is full of sparks and numbers and dawn is already peeking through the windows by the time he forces his eyes back open.
There’s a dot of blood on his hand where the damn thing must have pricked him, and that means it’s bound to him now, right? Or something like that? Fuck, he’s never even seen a demon up close. How does he even know this is one?
We don’t have time, a voice in his head says. I was meant for someone else and they’ll kill you to get me back, and then I’ll be bored forever. And you probably don’t want to be dead. So we don’t have time and we have to go.
Go. Leave this universe. Go hide somewhere else. Tell me to take you away from this universe.
Tell me, or you’re going to die here today.
”Okay. Okay. Do it.”
And that seems to be enough, because suddenly they’re nowhere he can recognize, which is good because in the instant before they left he could have sworn he heard a gun being cocked somewhere near.