[In a courtyard somewhere near you, a very happy Jasdero is hand-washing bloodstained laundry. There's happy, almost everyone has that emotion. And then there's almost-glowing ridiculously happy. The kind of happy that leads people to write mushy songs. Or write silly stories. Or sing aloud. The kind of happy that's infectious, and means that
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... Oh! Hi! [...shifts and have an awkward wave from under the basket]
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[Smiles, so happy right now.]
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[Humming a little as he washes.]
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[...Wait. That's not his Devit. Or like the other exorcist Devit he knows.]
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Um. What are you doing?
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