Disclaimer: With the exception of the unfortunate Dr. Darryl, I own none of the character or settings mentioned herein.

The quartet of twenty-somethings who entered the office after Mr. Shadwell's departure were, much to Dr. Darryl Birkett's relief, all distinctly human-like in appearance. There was however something about them that made him just a little uneasy. This was, as far as he could tell from a few moments of on the spot introspection, mainly due to the similarity of the woman named Pepper to Ms. Zuigiber(1); he just hoped and prayed that they weren't in any way related. There was also something a little… what was the right word? A little odd about the blond-haired man who had introduced himself as Adam Young. It was the way that looked exactly like you'd imagine a blond-haired, twenty-something male to look if you were told to close your eyes and envision such a person. Still, within the space of a week Dr. Darryl Birkett, leading talking head on Tomorrow Morning, had attempted to divert Duke Hastur and Duke Ligur's jealously issues away from a path that would inevitably lead to mass destruction, listened with ever growing discomfort to Mr. Crowley and Mr. Fell bicker about the equitability - or otherwise - of their sex life, faced a disturbing hour of hunger pangs and smoke inhalation when Mr. White and Mr. Sable had dropped by to discuss the problems inherent in intimate relationships between co-workers and tried – quite probably in vain – to convince Mr. Shadwell that attempting to conduct on the spot nipple counts in local department stores was a very bad idea; and had now reached the point of 'how much worse can it get'.

"So the four of you are flatmates then?" he said, as said four sat themselves down in the easy chairs opposite the desk. As he said this he couldn't help but momentarily dwell on the fact that there had seemingly only been two easy chairs in the room when he'd come to work this morning.

"Look," said Adam, "before we start I should probably let you know that I'm an antichrist. Just so you're not wondering."

"I see," said Darryl, trying not to let the sudden stab of panic show. "You're not er… going to turn me into anything unnatural are you?" For some reason as soon a he'd said this an image of Mr. Shadwell popped into his mind.

Adam shook his head in the manner of one who for whom myth dispelling was a regular occurrence. "I don't go messing around with things Dr. Birkett. Well, apart from that time when Brian and Wensley got themselves accidentally sent to Azkaban. But that wasn't really messing about."

Darryl couldn't help but form the distinct impression that what Adam did and didn't term really messing about was a tad on the arbitrary side, but decided that discretion was a virtue and merely nodded in what he hoped was an easy going manner.

"He doesn't go around cleaning up other people's bedroom for them," supplied Pepper, in what was clearly intended to be a helpful manner.

"He doesn't even bother cleaning up his own bedroom," muttered the fair haired man who'd been introduced as Wensleydale.

"Not everybody thinks that it's necessary to clean the skirting board with bleach twice a week," said the unkempt looking man wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with the name Brian, who was sitting next to him. "Besides, harsh detergents are bad for the environment."

Wensleydale scowled. "Oh come on Brian, I'd say that leaving dirty plates lying around for two months is bad for our environment."

"Look, it's not my fault if I sometimes forget things like that. Besides, if it bothered you that much why didn't you clean it up yourself."

Wensleydale looked at the floor and mumbled something inaudible.

"What?"

"Pepper told me not to," said Wensleydale, his expression one of mild embarrassment.

"Why not," said Brian, looking vaguely confused.

"Because," said Pepper, in tones that suggested dissent would be futile, "you can't expect Wensley to deal with your messes all the time. And I'm not just talking about the ones that are likely to cause rodent infestations."

Brian's expression of confusion magnified to a degree that Darryl was sure had to be calculated, whilst Wensley looked almost as though he wanted to crawl into a corner and hide. Adam, for his part, seemed to be observing proceedings in what appeared to be a calm and hopeful fashion.

"There's also the fact that you running to him for money every time it's your turn to pay the rent and the fact that you expect him to sort things out for you when you're too hung over or stoned to go to work."

"I don't," protested Brian. "Well, not recently anyway. You know I stopped taking illegal substances after I had that hallucination where the bloke made of fire rose from the ground." Darryl found himself taking a sideways glance at Adam who now seemed to be shifting around in a slightly uncomfortable fashion. He was certainly able to sympathise though. Whilst he knew that royalty were generally well known for doing things differently, he couldn't help but wish Prince Beelzebub could have booked an appointment via telephone or e-mail. "Besides," continued Brian. "I don't see what mine and Wensley's relationship's got to do with you."

"Wensley's my friend too, and I don't see why…." She trailed off as a look of sudden realisation appeared on her face. "Relationship? I thought that you two were just occasionally having casual sex."

Wensley's face turned a rather striking shade of beetroot.

For a moment Brian looked as though he were in imminent danger of making a comment about it 'being a lot more than occasional' or querying why Pepper's prior assessment of the situation was incongruous with the concept of 'relationship'. Fortunately he settled for a defensive "It's not as though we all have to tell each other everything, is it?"
"But how long have you, you know, known it was a relationship?"

Brian shrugged. "It just sort of happened."

Pepper opened her mouth, but seemed unable to think of a suitable come back.

Darryl, aware that he was dealing with the emotional wellbeing of the Antichrist's companions and feeling that he really ought to do something to stop the argument from escalating cleared his throat. "You know, when relationships between friends change like this it's often difficult for other people in the group to adapt."

"I don't have problems with adapting," said Pepper, sounding rather affronted. For a brief moment Darryl found himself assailed with visions of Ms. Zuigiber wielding a very sharp looking sword.

"Of course," he said hastily, trying desperately to push the image of a dangerous scarlet smile out of his head, "this doesn't happen it all cases; but when you're living together it's important to respect each other's personal space."

"I always respect other people's personal space," said Pepper, once again sounding rather affronted.

It dawned on Darryl that neither Pepper nor Brian was going to respond very well to any sort of direct suggestion that they were doing something wrong. "Erm… have you ever considered a cleaning rota. So you know who's supposed to be doing what."

"We tried," said Pepper, "but Wensley insisted on having everything timed to the minute, and he included sterilising the crockery with surgical strength cleaner twice a week."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to keep things clean," said Wensleydale.

Pepper rolled her eyes. "Wensley, there's clean and then there's obsessive compulsive."

Brian looked as though he was trying desperately to fight the urge to make an extremely obvious crack about Wensley also liking things dirty. To his eternal credit, he succeeded.

"I'm not obsessive at all," said Wensley, with a frown.

Pepper gestured to Darryl. "Look, you're a therapist, don't you think that he sounds obsessive."

Aware that Pepper was now looking at him in the same, rather worrying, way that Ms. Zuigiber had, and that Wensley was now doing a fair approximation of Dr. Sable's intent stare, Darryl found himself looking around for a path of escape. When none were forthcoming he decided that diplomacy was the only solution. "Twice a week does sound a little excessive, though obviously everybody had their own very personal standards where hygiene's concerned. I think that maybe you need to find a compromise that you can all live with."

"I suppose that it wouldn't be too bad if you three would just wash up after you've had a meal," conceded Wensleydale.

"I suppose that wouldn't be too bad," said Pepper.

"Alright," said Brian, grudgingly, "but no standing next to me and critiquing my pan scrubbing ability."

Adam just smiled, shrugged and nodded.

As far as the rest of the appointment Darryl decided that the safest path would be to leave the four flat mates to talk amongst themselves, which they did. Topics covering everything from Pepper's taste in loud rock music to Brian's taste in clothes to Wensley's insistence on training to be a chartered accountant. At the end of the hour he felt the almost alien sense of having achieved something, though he couldn't for the life of him work out what.

"You're really good," said Adam, as the other three walked back out into the waiting room, Pepper declaring that it was about time that they all started listening to each other and Wensleydale telling Brian that he hadn't actually realised that they were having a relationship but was jolly glad that they were.

"But I didn't actually do anything," said Darryl, in the tones of the terminally confused.

Adam shrugged. "They've started talking to each other again."

"Well, that's… er good, I suppose."

"In fact I think that me and my dad should come and see you sometime. We never seem to talk to each other, you see, and I think that you might be able to help."

Darryl inwardly sighed with resignation. It was, he knew, too much to hope that when he said 'father' the Antichrist was referring to the human male who'd brought him up.

(1) Darryl dreaded the day that Ms. Zuigiber would decide that should could do with another hour long self-affirmation and unburdening session. He really didn't think that the police would look too kindly on another waiting room riot. They had, after all, almost resorted to calling in army backup the first time.