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And so the portrait remained left alone, though the draft of the door closing made the tarp slide a little, as it wasn't properly draped on it, revealing more of the portrait. Whoever was holding Bo's hand in the portrait, seemed to be dressed in a similar fashion as Bo and seemed around a similar age.. The tarp had not revealed the rest of the other person, however. Just their arm.


The next morning, seemed like your everyday, normal new day.

Well, as normal as it could get with a Chinvat demon caring for a tiny, traumatized boy.

Bo, for once, seemed to have slept peacefully without nightmares, or at least, did not alert Othello about them if he had them. He had woken up and gotten out of bed slightly earlier, as he was at his desk, reading. The book appeared to be 'The Prince and the Pauper', which was about two look-alike boys swapping their life with each other, one a prince, and one an abused unwealthy boy. Bo occasionally would rub his eyes, half-asleep, but continued to read the book regardless. Possibly waiting for Othello to announce breakfast.

Othello went down to make breakfast first before going to Bo's room. "Breakfast is ready," he told the boy. "Come along, child, and eat. I remember reading somewhere that breakfast is supposed to be your most important meal. For us, it is supper, but I do not wish for you to fall ill." He really didn't want Bo to get sick. He had no idea what to do with a sick child.

Bo looked up from his book, and gently placed a bookmark into it, before closing it and standing up, sliding away from his desk. The page he bookmarked stated these words: 'A few minutes later the little Prince of Wales was garlanded with Tom's fluttering odds and ends, and the little Prince of Pauperdom was tricked out in the gaudy plumage of royalty. The two went and stood side by side before a great mirror, and lo, a miracle: there did not seem to have been any change made!'

"Okay." Bo gave a small smile, and then walked past Othello, heading out of his bedroom, going to the kitchen. "My mum and nanny both said that breakfast was the most important meal of the day, so it must be true."

He headed downstairs, guiding his hand along the rails of it, before gently stepping off at the last step. "When do you think Belladonna is going to arrive?" Bo asked curiously, not really having a reason, but making smalltalk it seemed.

Othello checked the time. "She is supposed to be here in an hour for her first official day of work. Will you be alright with her cleaning?" he asked, frowning lightly at Bo. "I will be requesting that she teach you how to keep your own room clean. It is good for a man to take pride in his own space and to do what he can to look after it. Therefore, I believe you should start with your room. Slowly, of course. I shan't expect you to know how to do everything all at once in a few hours, merely that you gradually understand the basics. Are you amenable to this idea?"

Bo blinked, then nodded yes to the question of Belladonna cleaning, walking into the kitchen. "I know the basics of cleaning my room, picking stuff up and putting things back to where they belong. But as for the actual, like vacuuming and dusting, I don't really know how to do it. I've seen my nanny do it, but I didn't really ask how she did it." Bo said, pulling a chair out from the table and gently sitting down in it.

He then remembered, "Oh! Uhmm.." Bo went to speak but stopped. He didn't know how to word it correctly, last time he had addressed his concern for the storage room, he had came off rude and felt a bit anxious that he might would do it again. "Nevermind." Bo just decided to forget it, blocking out the storage room from his mind temporarily to focus on more important matters. Like breakfast, because breakfast was more important. But hey, that's just a theory.

"Yes?" Othello prompted. He had found an old newspaper from a couple of weeks ago and was reading it studiously as he ate his breakfast.

Bo spoke up again, "I just.. I'm anxious over the storage room, that's all." Bo sighed. "But you said I shouldn't worry, so I'll try not to."

"Besides, I know that Belladonna will do a good job, that's her job! So, uhm, yes! No need to worry." Bo said.

Hm, why was Bo so sensitive over that one storage room?

Was it truly just because it contained so many memories? Or was there something more to it?

"Yes, and I doubt there will be much to do inside a storage room outside of removing some dust," Othello agreed mildly. "Your treasures will be safe." He turned the page and shook the paper to get it to straighten. "Anything else?"

Bo furrowed his brows at the 'doubt there would be much to do' inside the storage room comment, as if fighting back a dark memory, and apparently he succeeded in pushing it back down, because once Othello said 'anything else', he continued on from the storage room. "Well, I think the library might need rearranging, some of the books seem out-of-order, but I don't know if that's a housecleaner's job or not." Bo said, finally starting to eat his breakfast.

"The library was a mess even before my parents.. were.. y'know.." Bo muttered, "Mum would always find cooking or knitting books and just keep it in her room most of the time instead of returning it, and dad would grab computer books to try and fix that computer and then forget where they went and shoved them whatever. And my-" Bo stopped, almost as if he was a skipping record player, "And me, it didn't matter what kind of book I had, it was not going in the right spot." Bo awkwardly laughed, taking a sip of his drink. "Oh and my nanny every once in a while, would grab one of those sappy romance books to read, but she always put them back where they belong." Bo added, "Like, I don't know if demons have these, from Chinvat, but like, the sappy books with titles like 'Pride and Pre-Juice' or 'Peanut Butter and Jelly', with like, dramatic covers of a man and woman." Bo rambled.

The book titles that Bo said.. didn't seem right, comically. It would be quite funny if a romance book was titled after juice, or a sandwich, however.

"Pride and Pre-juice?" Othello asked, temporarily derailed by the outlandish name. Were those really book titles? No wonder so many humans asked to make contracts with demons. They were begging for salvation from horrible literature. "I do not think we have many book titles surrounding food-related things," Othello said slowly, forgetting what the titles were even supposed to be about - sappy romance - in his sheer confusion, "but I have not read every single book, either. Not even their titles. I suppose it would be too elitist of me to presume that all of Chinvat literature is superior to Gaian literature just because we have no... Pride and Pre-Juice." Chinvat was totally superior. No question. No hesitation. Still, he couldn't be too rude about this child's native land, he supposed.

He shook himself and tried to remember what the earlier questions were. "There is no harm in asking if she would organize them, but if she says that is outside her scope of work, then it would not be too much trouble for us to do it ourselves. There are low shelves I do not wish to constantly bend and reach, and there are high shelves you cannot reach without a box. Together, all books are reachable."

The doorbell rang, and he set his newspaper off to the side so he could go answer it. He expected Belladonna, but instead, there were four boxes of the things he had ordered during his shopping spree online. He toted them in excitedly, forgetting all about the breakfast dishes on the table as he nearly chirped in joy. Finally! New clothing! He could stop wearing the same undergarments!

Bo softly smiled, seeming to like the thought of helping organize the books, just in-case Belladonna said no. Bo continued eating the breakfast, and heard the doorbell. Bo had assumed it was Belladonna too, but assumed wrong, as he noticed Othello carrying boxes. Bo didn't ask, though was curious of what it was.

Bo poked at the remaining pieces of his breakfast, but then shoved the plate aside, drinking the rest of his orange juice and getting out of the chair.

Bo seemed to have his mind on the book he was reading this morning instead of breakfast.
Which was a bit ironic, considering the conversation of breakfast being the most important thing.

Othello had to take two trips with the large boxes and carried them back to his room, leaving the door open as he opened them with a fingernail and started pulling out various pieces. They weren't quite what he'd normally wear back home, but they were a far closer match than he'd expected here on Gaia. This would work! This would work so splendidly! He pulled out all the boring things - several changes of undergarments - first and placed them in neat piles on his bed. Then came the outerwear. Four black pairs of pants, each of a different fabric. Three white shirts, two red shirts, and two black shirts, all similar in style. Four waistcoats in black, gold, and red colors, two ties, and two ascots. Finally, a dark blue almost black suit jacket with gold trim, and a heavy black overcoat with silver trim. He laid each item out with care, sorting them piece by piece, and reveled in his shopping trip. And he hadn't had to spend a dime of his own actual money! He hoped he'd be able to take it with him. As he sorted through the few accessories he'd gotten, like a pocket watch and a couple of cheap rings, he wondered fleetingly if he should have gotten something for Bo. Then he shook off the thought. Bo actually had clothes. He just needed to learn how to wear them properly.

By the time Belladonna rang the doorbell - nearly an hour past when she was supposed to have arrived - Othello had showered, shaved, and fully changed clothes for the first time since his arrival. He felt like a new demon! Now decked out in black pants, a blood-red button-up shirt, a black waistcoat with extravagant gold trim and cuffs to match, and a white neckerchief, he sailed across the house to the front door to let her in. He ran a white hand over his smooth, black hair and opened the door.

"Belladonna. The time has passed when you were scheduled to arrive," he intoned.

The girl decked out in a sweeping black dress with lace bobbed a tiny... well, he supposed it was supposed to be a curtsy. "I am afraid the universe had ought against me," she said in a tremulous voice, her eyes appearing huge with their dark makeup. "The dark forces conspired against me to trap me within Hypnos' realm and pulled at my feet to delay my departure. Yet, here I stand even so."

Othello sighed and stepped aside so she could come in. "Very well. We shall see how this continues. Bo, Belladonna has arrived." He closed the door behind her, trying not to wrinkle his nose at the distastefully thick scent of incense hanging around her like a cloud.

Bo walked into the room from the living room, holding his book (he had grabbed his book from his bedroom and decided to read in the living room instead of his room), greeting Belladonna. "Hello again, Belladonna." He said warmly, nodding at her in a bow of sorts. Bo caught the thick scent of incense too, and it tickled his nose, he covered his mouth with his sleeve and sneezed, rather adorably, it sounded similarly to a baby panda sneeze or a cat sneeze. Bo then noticed Othello's new outfit, "Nice outfit. Is.. that what was in those boxes?" Bo asked him curiously, looking the outfit up and down.

Othello straightened just a tiny bit in pride and could not help brushing a bit of invisible lint off his vest. "Yes. I grew tired of my same outfit and chose to expand my wardrobe a little. I was surprised to find pieces I liked in this realm."

"It is a cold and dreary realm, indeed, but there can be some solace found in the material things," Belladonna agreed gravely. She turned to Bo. "Good morning. It is pleasant to see you still within the mortal realm. Shall we begin with your schoolwork? I shall clean while you work on your problems but be available to help."

"Well, it looks nice, and formal." Bo smiled at Othello, then Bo looked at Belladonna, "Oh, right! Schoolwork! Yes, we should begin." Bo said, holding his book in his arms.

He.. would rather just read his book, but schoolwork had to be done.. or did it? Bo was wondering how he could get out of schoolwork, at least for the day, but he didn't speak, silently thinking.

"This is pleasing to hear," Belladonna nearly whispered. She sailed after Bo toward his room. "We shall begin the drudgery that is schoolwork, for the sooner we begin, the sooner we will have time to meditate on the darkness of the world around us."

Othello watched them go and shook his head. Belladonna was so incredibly melodramatic, but he'd hired her in hopes that she'd be more understanding if a slip should happen and she discovered he was not of this world. Someone as attracted to the dark as she was and with that sense of style had to be one who was familiar with demons, right? However, just to be sure things were going well, he summoned an Eye to spy for him and sent it after her and Bo to keep watch on things. Meanwhile, he had a kitchen to clean up, and then bills to figure out how to pay, and possibly a garden to tend to.

Bo headed with Belladonna to the bedroom to start his studies, unaware of the Eye spying on them.

Bo sat down at his desk, staring down at the study book, then looked at Belladonna, then back at the study book. He opened it with a sigh and flipped to the page he needed to be on, and grabbed a pen. Bo, at first, was doing just fine, but after a few minutes, he was just..doodling on the paper, hoping it looked like he was doing something. Bo didn't feel like studying today, it made his brain hurt, especially math, math sucked.

Belladonna watched him for a bit and gave him a few mild pointers and instructions before wandering off to do her own work. She moved slowly but thoroughly. It took her forever to even finish dusting the pictures in the hallway before drifting to the sitting room, but at least everything in her wake was perfectly clean and shiny. That was a point to her favor.

Othello was in the library at the computer. He had started out by ensuring the bills were all being paid automatically but had eventually answered the siren call of online games. Most of them, he discovered, were not nearly as cathartic as a certain demon slaying one, but he was fascinated by the variety offered.

He was engrossed in figuring out a free online game when a sudden scream from the sitting room sent him bolting to his feet. He ran out to the hallway and nearly collided with Belladonna as she dashed from the sitting room.

"There's a thing!" she squealed, all affectation of disinterested melancholy lost. "It's a-a-a Thing! It's horrifying!"

Bo, after Belladonna had left was.. not studying, but instead, reading his book about the prince and the pauper. He stayed there too, reading, well, until he heard Belladonna's squealing. Bo fumbled the book in his hands, startled by it, hearing it from all the way in his bedroom. Bo closed his book after putting a bookmark in it and gently pushed the bedroom door open, peeking out of it, before slowly wandering downstairs, and looking towards the hallway.

Belladonna seemed terrified of something, of what, was unclear to him. Bo didn't make his presence known, but did wander close to the corner of the hall to try and overhear and maybe see what the heck was going on.

Othello heaved an exasperated sigh. "There are many 'things' in this world. Would you care to tell me what 'thing' exactly has you in such an uproar?"

"It was horrible!" Belladonna gasped, but she seemed to be calming down a little. "Absolutely horrible. I know you'll think I'm crazy or something, but I swear I saw... A Floating Eyeball!"

"I see," Othello said slowly.

Belladonna scowled at him. "I'm not lying. I swear I saw it! I'm not on drugs! You can test me if you want!"

What did she mean by that? Test for what? What were drugs? He decided to move past the test and drug comments and said, "Yes, I believe you saw an eye because there it is right now."

The Eye, who apparently had somehow messed up in its orders to not be seen, had inched around the corner up at ceiling height and looked down at them, gathering in every bit of information it could.

Belladonna screamed and threw herself at Othello. "That's the eye! That's it! Kill it!"

Othello caught her out of instinct and looked down at her irritably. "Really, with the affectations you have adopted and all of your dramatic babbling about darkness, an eyeball is what tips you over the edge?"