"Oh but you just answered yourself—I am a demon, and this is what demons do. They FLOAT around," Bubu said in the most obnoxious, singsong voice imaginable.
She did a slow somersault in the air above Isabella's head, her translucent form shimmering faintly like soap bubbles in candlelight.
Isabella didn't look up. She simply exhaled and stared ahead like a weary mother who'd just heard her toddler throw a spoon across the room for the fifteenth time.
"But you know I was giving you the silent treatment," Isabella replied, her voice laced with the exhausted kind of maturity one uses when trying not to slap someone and ruin a good manicure.
Bubu gasped, placing a transparent hand over her chest like she'd just been stabbed with a feather. "And you think I don't deserve your divine affection for, what, an hour? Two hours? What is this? Abuse? Psychological warfare?!"
