The white haired demon could barely get himself out of bed. He could feel his arms strain against the effort of movement, his knees almost buckling against the effort of holding him up.

He certainly wasn't fat. If anything, his slim frame had been kept quite athletic all this time from his constant hunting for "research subjects" to experiment on. Then again, that was balanced by his sedentary lifestyle and (mostly) sweet-based diet.

The only thing he really had to thank was his infernal metabolism.

He pulled on his gray shorts, dozing off after the elastic tightened on his waist. His mind blanked as he stared into space, a full minute passing on a nearby clock. He almost forgot his trademark red jacket. Every good demon needed something that fluttered dramatically in the wind.

He looked over his most recent plans, a magic powered gravity gun that would allow him to steal all the PTA money to fund his experiments. He could barely look at them without laughing to himself (or was it at himself? He couldn't tell anymore) and saying "ahh, what's the point."

He could feel his bed calling back to him, his eyes aching from his four-hour-long sleep. Maybe it was time to stop staying up so late. Maybe it was time to start acting like the dean.

Maybe he just needed a good night's sleep for once.

Two minutes. Two minutes of silence and quiet. Two minutes where his entire mind went blank and he could feel a dream slowly coming into existence.

His doors were torn from their hinges, a single well placed kick flinging them across the room, and through a window. He could just barely make out a heavy THWACK outside the academy building, and a voice saying "What the hell, dood!"

He could tell from the friendly "Good morning, Mao" exactly who it was. Was that an explosion outside?

She was barely three feet tall, wearing some semblance of a jacket with the sleeves ripped off (Or did it come designed that way?) dyed pink to match her short pink hair. Her smile was intoxicating, contagious, even. Her tone was as friendly as it was mocking.

It was like she was just asking him to criticize her for being so nice.

He crawled out of his bed again, approaching her groggily. "Beryl, are those" he paused to yawn loudly, arms stretched in an attempt to wake himself up "My glasses?" He asked, getting very close to her face.

"W-what?" she stuttered

"I mean, they look like my glasses." he said, his voice half droning from exhaustion. He backed up again, looking to his nightstand to find his own pair "You take them from me whenever you want to look smart, right?"

"Mao, these are MY glasses. I got them after I became a teacher here." She sounded distraught somehow.

He found his glasses on the desk, didn't pick them up, and casually fell into the bed again. "Oh." He pulled the blanket over himself again, snuggling into it "You look cute with 'em. They suit you"

"Mao!" she tried shaking him awake, pulling on his shoulder from the edge of his bed. "Don't fall asleep on me saying that crap! We have work to do today"

"The dean's taking a day off" she could hear him mumble under the covers.

"Wanna make a bet, then?" She smiled impishly

"Mao's not at home right now." He took a deep, focusing breath. " Please leave a message after the beep" he let it go, feeling his body relax itself.

She sat for a minute waiting, staring at him until she could hear him snore. "Miserable demon!"

It had taken every ounce of effort in her tiny frame to get Mao moving. She'd dragged him out of bed, set the bed on fire, set HIM on fire, kicked his junk, and then set his junk on fire.

"MY BIGAEA THREE SAVE FILE!" He screamed, looking at his smoldering Slaystation Portable.

"I have a backup" that impish smile again, as she held up the tiny memory chip.

"Four thousand levels!" He couldn't help but pace back and forth. He walked towards her, a fist raised, then grabbed his arm and lowered it, a frustrated grunt.

"Mao"

"They were on my swordsman main!" He pulled at his hair and turned away from her, punching the air and flailing around like an idiot.

"Backup"

"Three YEARS of gaming!" Mao started stomping on the floor, frustrated at being unable to find a pillar to slam his head on. The walls were too far away.

"Hands?"

He turned around, his eyes opened wide, the realization dawning on him "Fine. If I win, you get me a new Slaystation. And that chip. And five backups"

"And if I win, blood bank!" She said grinning wide.

There was always something about that smile.