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His half-formed grin wavered at her request. He still hadn't gotten an answer from her as to what she planned on demanding from him, but he was more than ready to see this through, no matter what this was. West took a short breath, sorely tempted to ask why she wanted him near her, but he held the question back, shrugging slightly instead. He nudged himself forward from where he had been leaning toward her like a flower under a sun lamp, shifting to his hands and knees and crawling around the table until he was in the vicinity of where she had indicated. That pillow was awfully close. West gave her a skeptical glare, then dropped onto the designated mound of fluff. He was facing her, having failed to come to the conclusion that she wanted to see her handiwork one last time before it was gone, and as such, he was in the perfect position to examine her features. The expression that marred them coupled with her tone helped West to the conclusion that she definitely wasn't looking forward to this as much as he was.

He supposed he could understand why she might be put out. Demons (who were not him) enjoyed power, right? Not physical power (he liked that kind just fine) but power of the sort that bent others to the wielder's will, contorting them into twisted parodies of themselves forced to dance for the amusement of others. Could that really be the reason she was upset? West couldn't recall any time in particular that Yaya had actually made him do something he was uncomfortable doing. He might have informed her that contrary to what he said out loud, part of the reason he did the things he would rather not do when he was around her was because he thought she would approve of him doing them. The other part was still because he was afraid she would reveal that she had marked him, but all that was about to change. She should have been excited that his apprehension around her was about to be lessened at the very least.

West stared at her across the short distance that separated them, eyes still narrowed a fraction. "Thanks," he grumbled, seemingly out of nowhere. "I dun wanna kill Jerkwater n' Stench much at all anymore." He couldn't recall having ever thanked her for training his unfathomably irritating pets in the first place, and it seemed now was the last time he could before the gesture held little to no meaning anymore. He shifted in his seat, anxious to finally see what she wanted of him.

"Um... what?"

West should have expected she would ask him to turn around. After all, he had already noted that the proximity of the cushion she had chosen for him to sit on was beyond the definition of acceptable personal space. But... shirt removal?

"Yaya, I swear. If this's some kinda joke..." He sighed as he dropped his hands to his sides and turned around in place. Once he was settled again, West muttered something about crazy ghouls before tugging his t-shirt up over his back, careful to keep it from catching on his horns. As suggested, he kept it looped around his arms and stretched across the front of his chest, ready to pull it back on in an instant if she tried anything fishy.

"'Kay. There." West hunched forward and forced himself to breathe normally. He hadn't had his shirt off in front of anyone at this school, well, ever. Even with the knowledge that Yaya knew exactly what she was going to be seeing since she was the one who had put it there, he couldn't help but feel a sharp spike of apprehension over being exposed. "See? he quipped, the waver in his voice barely noticeable. "Still there."

A small measure of apprehension left him as she replied to his complaint and he unconsciously smirked with relief. Irritating Yaya enough so that she showed outward signs of it was always an achievement, at least from West's point of view. Still, her impatient prod was followed by the return of that sadness in her voice, an emotion he rarely felt and certainly didn't understand or share in this case.

He squirmed, the air near his shoulderblades going misty for a moment as his wings threatened to manifest. Not only did the tickle of the djinn's fingers against his back unnerve him, but there was something more. The favor. Yes. He could tell somehow that she was about to voice it, whatever it turned out to be. A wave of calm washed over him. West wondered if he had demanded that she lay out exactly how he was to repay her from the start, if he might have avoided the urge to scratch out his insides he felt whenever he had thought of their bargain over these last few months. No more favors without clearly outlined terms. Another lesson learned.

So, what was she going to ask of him? West was sure it was going to be something somewhat humiliating like washing her clothes for a week or trying out for some unapologetically ghouly school club. He turned his attention outward again, surprised to hear that none of the words he had anticipated were actually coming out of her mouth. She wanted him to... be there? Where did she think he was going to go exactly? Was there something more to what she was asking that he wasn't grasping? Did 'being there' involve hugging and paying attention when her stupid friends had problems and caring? Did she expect him to jump in front of bullets for her and her boilfriend or dive into holes after them or be her champion in a duel? That last one didn't sound so bad, he supposed, but still. Wasn't her statement terribly open to interpretation? It seemed a little too easy.

He wondered if he should take some time to think about this. Overnight, perhaps. He seriously pondered stalling, so he could determine what ulterior motives she might have. He thought about it for five seconds. Six. Seven. Eight seconds.

"Yeah," West said. There was nothing more to think about. The boil's voice was as quick as usual but surprisingly clear. He wanted to make sure she heard him. "I'll always be there, Yaya." He shivered in earnest this time. It was done.

There were so many things West might have taken note of in the handful of moments that followed his last words - Yaya's pained swallow, the sadness in her voice, even his own quickened breathing - but he only managed to remember one of them when he thought back on it.

His wings faded back out of existence and he froze, the tingling in his back driving home the fact that their deal had been completed far more effectively than the ghoul's words. He closed his eyes, trying to keep from shuddering, and didn't open them again until the tingling had faded and Yaya had climbed to her feet. He turned his head toward her, pulling his shirt back over his head and blinking slowly, as if he had just woken from an unplanned nap.

"Yeah, um, no problem, I guess?" he replied. His curiosity and nosiness had certainly done him a service today. A creeping feeling of excitement was quickly replacing any of his lingering apprehension, but he managed to direct his gaze toward the cushions beneath him rather than grinning at her back like a fool. A moment later, he quickly scrambled to his feet, eyes darting toward the door.

"I'munna go," he muttered, taking a shuffling step toward the exit. He couldn't decide if she was angry or still mysteriously upset, but now was definitely not the time to try to figure it out. His usual ability to faintly sense the anger of others was currently being trounced by sheer twitchiness. He had to get out of here.

And like that, she was gone.

West hesitated at the front door, wondering whether or not he should go after her. She had said she would see him around. That was good, right?

Yes. Yes it was. She wasn't angry. She couldn't be angry if she planned on seeing him later, no matter her tone. With a confident nod, West continued his hurried escape. He took a deep breath as he emerged in the hall, failing to notice the force with which he had pulled the door shut behind him until it had already slammed.

Freedom.

He was free.

With the tiniest of excited hops, West fled back to his room without so much as a backward glance.