"Jeez… this Singer guy must be a saint," the angel counterpart rolled his eyes from Jim's other shoulder. "Come on wings, take a look."
"Weren't you ever taught not to read over someone's shoulder?"
That got the little devil to roll his in turn. "Yeah, that was right up there with the pissing off angels training. Seriously, take a look."
The angel sighed and grumbled as his wings beat at a mad pace to help him get to his feet. "Gettin' too old for this… What are you blabbing about?"
"Just read!" Both angel and devil glared at each other before the halo-d influence sighed and shoved the little devil over a bit so he could see what he was talking about. "Yeah Bobby-centric script I know but just read."
"Oh… I see what you're gettin' at! Torturing demons, throwing some poor girl in a wood chipper, traumatizing a potential girlfriend. YEAH sainthood candidate right there."
"You are SO…. Old testament. LOOK! Read between the damn lines."
The little devil was so busy ranting and raving that he didn't notice the angel smirking at him. "Yeah yeah. Let's just get this show on the road."
Jim walked over toward the young ladies he would be working with during the shooting.
By the end of the episode, Jim was exhausted and glad to have a week off.
"Hey, Horndog!" the little devil on his left shoulder jolted, half asleep when the angel's shouted at him. "You're right… Singer is a saint."
"Told ya," said devil curled back up and tried to get back to sleep.