the demon and the girl's date fails because they're failures

He was beginning to get chills, which meant a headache would soon follow. Was this due to the sun, his mood, or demonic magic cooking him from the inside out? 

If hydromancy weren't his worst subject, Sionn would've made it so that Sun's Edge became Rain's Edge. He would've set up an umbrella company, threatened all competition, paid off his debts with the profits, then built a bigger castle with more servants, all of them attractive. And also Reem.

Their latest encounter had, as usual, quickly turned unsalvageable, yet she refused to let go of his hand. He was clawless, fangless, barely able to use magic—of course she wasn't afraid.

Of course no one turned on their way as they saw him across the street.

No one shut down their shop.

No one stuttered or cowered if he inquired about their wares. 

"Mr. Human?"

"Reem."

"Maybe, uh. I think that. Why don't you just give me a list of the stuff you'd like to buy so I do this tomorrow?"

"Why?"

"I think we both know the answer to th—never mind. Knowing you, you'll just think I hate you or something." Sionn had never felt more attacked. Reem continued: "The thing is that I can tell you're feeling sick, but if I tell you to go to a medic you'll—"

"I'm fine."

With her free hand, she gestured at him. "Yeah, that."

Like she was any better. For both of their sakes, Sionn did not respond. He continued to fish through the 90% OFF table at his favorite flea market stand. It was his favorite because he'd forgotten to disguise himself once and the owner didn't scream for help as soon as she saw him; Sionn only found out about his mishap because a customer did (scream). 

When said customer tried to get help (for what?), the owner pointed to a giant sign at the top which read: ALL SPICIES ALOUD. Sionn later commissioned the artist who'd spawned such an atrocity so they'd craft the warning for his castle. No one else found it funny, but that was fine. It wasn't as though he could laugh anymore, anyway, unless wearing the skin of a different species.

Reem yawned.

"If you're bored, you are more than free to leave," he told her.

"You said that already, yeah. Many times."

"The offer remains. Since we seem to have met due to a misunderstanding, we are under no obligation to continue interacting outside of office hours. I'm just here to... not let the spell go to waste, I suppose. I am unsure as to why you're still with me."

"If you want me to leave, just say 'Reem, fuck off and die'." 

"You know I won't say that."

"Mhm." Reem smiled for some reason. She was a mushroom. "I'd be sleeping if I wasn't here, so it's whatever. Besides, I'm also looking for stuff for myself. Like this thingy." She picked a sunflower pin from the literal junk pile before them. "...or... ehh... actually, I don't think it'd look good on me. Let's try it on you."

He let her pin it on his chest. It was an old shirt, anyway. He'd already finished paying for it. Poking two holes on it for a stupid secondhand garbage pin was perfectly fine.

Once done, Reem said, "You are shorter. Like a good head shorter than your d—" Sionn cleared his throat. The shop had three other customers at best, but still. Why alert them? "—de... date... never mind. Anyway, it suits you."

"Being short, or the pin?"

"The flower. I'd found something else earlier that's also cute, but you keep moving stuff around, so I lost it."

What could 'sunflower' mean in the language of flowers? Just thinking about that fiasco worsened his headache. Sionn used noise to get rid of noise. "Is yellow your favorite color?"

"Hmm... why do you ask?"

"I've noticed that you wear it often."

The hand holding his hostage tightened a bit. Did she notice? "Really? I mean... I guess I do? Maybe? It's red, actually, but with my skin color I can't wear a lot of shades of it because it'd look, you know. Or maybe I could but I don't like how it looks I guess." She leered at him. "But you'd look good in it."

"So would you."

She scoffed. "Anyway, keep the pin. It's a gift."

"Bribe?"

"Yeah. It means 'Sionn, fuck off and die'. Of course that makes you laugh."

Agreed. "Thank you for your patronage."

"Yeah." Thus ended the noise—both kinds. Unfortunately, the fever continued to worsen. 

It wasn't like this before...

Not this bad, anyway. 

Years ago, when he'd first learned this trick, the disguise could last for weeks at a time if he so desired (and if the price to pay allowed for it). Granted, to have as much physical strength in his entire body as he usually did in one finger was disorienting—to put it mildly—but sometimes one had to compromise: to be weak, or to intimidate everyone by virtue of existing?

The mark had only made it worse. Prior to the curse taking over half of his face, Sionn could still wander around without too much trouble, but once that thing showed up... well. Allegedly, to humans, demons had an 'aura' of sorts. If so, his had gone from mildly unsettling to paralyzing; it was a miracle if anyone talked to him without smelling like they were about to die.

Reem was not an exception. She held his hand because they looked alike. Once he changed back, it'd be more of the same bullshit: trembling, flinching if he breathed wrong, spouting complete gibberish with brief lapses of pseudo-lucidity...

She pinned a watermelon to his chest without his consent. "This one too."

...but it wasn't her fault. She couldn't help it. Nobody could. 

"Sunflower and watermelon. Very Sionny. Sunny."

"Yes," he said. "I am very sunny."

"When you look like this, yeah."

Yes.

"Wait, I didn't mean it like that. I meant it like. Colorful."

Yes.

"I'm sorry."

Yes. "If you truly repent, then wear something red."

Reem physically recoiled at the thought. It wasn't very sunny of her. "Fine," she said. "Fine. I'm doing it. Fine. Just watch."

Sionn watched. At last, his hand was a hostage no more. After Reem detached herself from him, she wandered to the thrifted clothes section at the back of the stand. It was a pretty big stand. The only other customer was there, trying on hat after hat.

As for him, he returned to his only real pastime as of late: browsing through junk.

A button shaped like a dragon-amoeba.

A world map from two centuries ago.

Another pin, and another. Someone must've sold off their collection. How unfortunate.

After paying for trash, including a passive-aggressive pin for Reem, Sionn went to annoy her. Unburdened by the need for theatrics, she checked dress after dress, twirled, fluffed, then leaped like a startled cat once she noticed him."Do go on," he urged.

Reem scrambled to pick up the garments she'd dropped. "I was just about to... yeah... something red..."

"Wear one of those dresses instead."

"Nope! Nope nope nope."

"Then you're fired."

"Fire me then."

Sionn, who had bent to help her, would've squeezed her cheeks, but something or someone or nothing made him topple. He couldn't stop it. His arm felt like slime. The world was too cold all of a sudden. Too cold.

Reem caught him. The other customer rushed to help, but Reem shook her head. "Fever," she said. "He'll be fine. I was expecting this, honestly."

There were six... seven... four layers of clothes between them. A dozen of so if he included worn ones.

Reem's hand felt like ice on his forehead. "...sheesh. You're so much worse than you were a few minutes ago!"

Changing from demon to human itched sometimes, especially the back of his hand for some reason.

Changing from human to demon was so agonizing that it transcended description, which was why he usually slept this off. Transformation magic was his second worst... wait, no, second worst was illusion... third...? Did cooking still count as a discipline? Anyway, he sucked at it, which was why he couldn't regulate the titanic amount of demonic magic that rushed in the moment the seal began to break.

"I'm—fine. I'm fine. Get off me."

"Huh? You get off me."

He physically could not, but he did so anyway.

It really wasn't like this before...

"Help me up," he said. "I have to... fast..."

Upon tossing the dresses to the side, Reem did; she steadied him when Sionn stumbled. Stupid piece of shit curse fucking—wait, since when was she this strong? "Medic?" Reem asked. "Somewhere to sit?"

"Dressing room."

Said room was a stall with a piece of fabric in lieu of a door, but it'd suffice. Wobbling, they reached it. "Medic?" She suggested.

"Later. Go find a cape. The biggest one you can find. Give me two... five... just go." He slid the curtain between them both. To his human eyes, the world became a void. Must've been better quality fabric than it appeared.

Reem, who was stupid, failed to follow basic instructions. "Um. Is there anything else I can do to—"

"No!"

"Fine, fine. Whatever."

Finally, she left.

It'd never been this bad.

Would it be worse next time?

Would there even be a next time?