The young girl's scream pierced the doctor's dreamless sleep. He had always been a light-sleeper. He rolled off the flea-ridden couch, his knees wobbling as his tired body strained to keep going.

The new demon staggered through the apartment that Mayberry helped him get. No one was sure what happened to the previous occupant, but one thing everyone was sure on, they weren't a house-proud tenant. It was void of furniture, save for one couch. Stained in several places, and reeked of desperate living and existential despair.

He saved the bed, for the young 'impling', as Mayberry had called her. After making sure no similar stains were present.

He'd only been in Hell a week, and in that time, Mayberry had; set him up with an apartment, bought all the food, and was making frequent checks to make sure they were alright. Was she sweet on him? If so, he would have to tell her that he wasn't interested in women… but, if she found that out would she stop helping them?

The cat demon entered the small bedroom, and saw the small girl. Still clad in her grey rags, whimpering.

Dropping to his knees he extended his bare arms, and grunted as the small girl launched herself from the bed. Burying her face in his chest fluff.

Opening his mouth to ask what was wrong he caught himself as he realised for the umpteenth time, she was deaf. He resorted to stroking the back of her head.

The cat reached for a small notepad; it was primitive as communication methods go. But it worked.

Flipping through for the correct page, the older demon tapped on the young girl's shoulder and showed her.

'What's wrong?'

The girl propelled herself to the bed, picking up a crude crayon drawing a showed the older man.

He'd never met one in person, but in all the newspaper stories, and media stills, it was obvious what she was trying to draw. An Exorcist.

Mayberry had told him of the cleanses. When heaven would send warriors down to cull the herd.

He let the small child cuddle into him once more, letting her sob as he looked round the bedroom.

Just like the rest of the apartment it was sparsely decorated, the only piece of furniture being the bed. Peeling grey wallpaper, flickering overhead light and rising damp.

An idea occurred to the young doctor, with a smile, he wrote a message on the notepad. The first lesson had started.

Mayberry blew a loose strand of hair from her face, as she fiddled with the lock. Two brown bags of shopping perched precariously in her arms. Couldn't put them down, someone could steal them. The lock gave a small click as her key turned, giving the door a light shove with her shoulder, it creaked open. Showing a tired cat sitting on the couch, the small girl bouncing up and down in excitement.

The cat pointed to Mayberry as she entered, the young imp shooting towards her crying out in glee. The goat wobbled as the child wrapped long arms round her legs. Putting the bags down with a small smile, the goat pried the young girl off her legs, and lifted her up.

"She latches on doesn't she," the man asked.

"Like a tick."

The small girl waved her arms about excitedly, before moving them in a deliberate fashion.

"She's," the cat began.

"Signing," Mayberry nodded, "I know. I was a teacher after all."

"My. Name." Mayberry enunciated with each slow methodical movement the girl made, "Is. Abigail."

"Oh," Mayberry smiled, "she told you, her name?"

"She didn't have one," the doctor replied, "so I gave her… one I like."

"Not an ex, is it?" Mayberry asked, a concerned expression knitting her brow.

"No! I'm not interested in women… like that."

Abigail bounced back over to him, grabbing him by his twitching hand attempted to drag him off the couch. Getting the hint, Thorne rose and shuffled over to be face to face with his current benefactor.

"My name," he said, in time with his signing, "is Thorne."

"I'm happy that you chose a name," Mayberry said, pushing the door open for Abigail, "but shouldn't you choose a job to go with it? Instead of… this?"

The Lucky Cat Casino was a huge windowless dome. Giant lights flooded the space, dazzling the patrons. No clocks, so nobody could tell the passage of time, oxygen was being pumped into the rooms to keep everyone awake and alert. Drinks poured down your throats by attractive members of staff to make you feel aroused and wanted. All of the above accompanied with a constant jingle from the machines giving the impression that someone was always winning. Thorne knew that none of this wasn't true.

"No one wants a psychiatrist," he replied.

"Well just say you're a doctor."

The only noise Abigail made, was excited breaths and to bounce up and down on the black and red carpet.

"Well one of us looks excited to be here," Thorne smiled. "Must be the flashing lights."

"Fine," Mayberry sighed, "how much?"

"A dollar."

"What?"

"Just a dollar," Thorne nodded.

"You can't win anything off a single dollar," Mayberry frowned. Handing over the bill.

"Just watch me."

The three of them casually moved from table to table, eyeing up the games. They stopped at a smaller game and Thorne observed. The shark croupier eyeing them up suspiciously.

"Just watching," Thorne smiled.

The shark grumbled and began dealing.

It took a few minutes of gameplay for Thorne to realise it was a 6-deck shoe. A few minutes more to get the order straight in his head. Thorne sat down, time to play.

The whisps of cigar smoke curled around Husk's ears. And for several hundred dollars a box, they had better. Supposedly rolled on the thighs of Succubi. They certainly tasted like…

"Sir," a voice cried out, "we have a problem."

"What?" Husk snarled; couldn't they see he was basking?

"Potential Code 2 on table 3."

Code 2. Someone was cheating.

"So, I'm here because you think I'm cheating?" Thorne asked sitting in a plush chair. Black bag over his head. Hands cuffed behind him.

"I know y'were," Husk sneered, his whiskey breath permeating the bag.

"Or I'm just very clever," Thorne shrugged, "Can we take the bag off? Or am I going to be talking to a disembodied voice all night?"

Husk whipped the bag off giving his best leering grin, that usually unnerved people.

"Wow," Thorne muttered, "you're beautiful."

"Wha'?" Husk stammered, pulling back.

"Your face," Thorne continued, "It's perfectly symmetrical. All the way down to your cute button nose."

Husk blushed; he covered his nose.

"Leave m' cute button nose out of it," he muttered.

"HA!" Thorne cried triumphantly, "Made you say cute button nose."

Husk growled. "Ya still cheated."

"What makes you think that?"

"No one makes ten-grand that quickly off a dollar."

"I'll say again, I'm very clever," Thorne sighed, leaning forward. Bringing his hands round, the cuffs dangling and clinking round his shaking wrist.

"How the fuck?" Husk started.

"Not my first time in cuffs," Thorne winked back.

Husk's face grew hotter.

"Think ya could beat me?"

"Depends," Thorne mused, standing and drawing himself to his full height. "What are we playing for?"

"You win," Husk grinned, "You keep ya' winnings. I win," his smile grew, "ya ass is mine."

"Mmmmm kinky."

"No not like that!" Husk roared, "I mean my men'll come and fuck you up."

"Oh, you like to watch do you?"

"NO!" Husk's face screwed up in frustration, before grabbing the nearest bottle and gulping down its contents.

"You gonna share any of that?" Thorne asked, removing a pack of playing cards, and absentmindedly twirling them in his hands.

"No."

"How the fuck did that happen?" Husk hiccupped. As Thorne laid down another winning hand.

"Like I said," Thorne exhaled, his hand not the only thing flush, "I'm very clever."

"Hot to."

"Pardon?"

"Ya face is getting red," Husk blurted out, desperate for a save. "You've had too much," he slurred.

"You're one to talk," Thorne chortled, grabbing the closest empty bottle, "this one's yours, isn't it?"

"Yet another thing I'm better than you at," Husk yelled triumphantly, swaying slightly as the alcohol coursed through his system.

"Makes up for you not being as good at cards as you think."

"There's something that I know I'm good at," Husk smiled, bringing his face closer to Thorne's.

"What would that be?" Thorne asked, knowing, no, hoping what would come next.

Husk lunged forward, pulling Thorne into a kiss. Their tongues danced together, Thorne tasting the residual alcohol. Husk pulled the younger cat to his feet, pulled his shirt off and made him lie down on the card table.

"Mmmm, submissive little kitten, aren't you?" Husk purred, dragging one of his paws through Thorne's fur, while the other played with his belt.

"But I won," Thorne teased.

"Want me to stop?"

"…No."

"Good," Husk bent down and bit Thorne's neck.

Thorne cried out, and tried to nibble one of Husk's ears.

"No," Husk reprimanded, gently pushing himself off Thorne's torso.

"Nothing is going in this mouth," he continued, tracing Thorne's lips with his index finger. "Unless I put it there. That clear kid?"

Thorne nodded.

"Good, well go on then kitten," Husk teased, bringing his tail up and brushing it against Thorne's face. "Bite it."

Thorne grabbed a handful of tail and nipped it playfully.

Husk grunted in surprise more than pain.

"I'm not nearly as drunk as you think I am," Thorne purred playfully.

"Good," Husk grinned, "then you'll remember this." He surged forward again. He may not have won the card game, but the prize was his.

They started on the card table but that wouldn't be where they'd finish.

Mayberry sat quietly in Thorne's apartment with the young girl, Abigail. She ought to get used to calling her that. They had been kicked out of the casino hours ago when Thorne was taken away for 'questioning'. She was worried, if Thorne had been erased, then what? She couldn't look after Abigail, not with the life she led. And adopting imps was difficult enough, but a deaf one. Impossible.

A small click came from the door.

Mayberry reached for her concealed gun, and sighed exasperatedly when Thorne limped in carrying a briefcase.

"Where the fuck have you been?" She snarled, "it's been hours. Why are you limping?"

"Ummm, exercise?"

"If you could make me believe that, that would be great."

"Where's Abigail?" Thorne asked scanning the room.

"Asleep in her room," the goatess huffed, folding her arms. "Took me ages to get her to go to sleep, I had to promise that you were coming back? What was I supposed to have done if you hadn't returned, where were you?"

"Getting her this," Thorne said opening the briefcase and pulling out a black dress.

"Oh, well I'm not sure that… wait," Mayberry looked down into the contents of the case.

"You're telling me," She whispered furiously, "that you've been carrying around over a million dollars in briefcase this entire time?"

"Well, I did beat the proprietor," Thorne shrugged, "and he promised to increase my winnings if I did so."

"I don't even wanna know how big the big blind came to be."

"Pretty big actually," Thorne smiled, "could barely handle it."