Cerberus glanced at it. "Mm."
"Tsk. He must have been bullied pretty badly to ask Pazuzu for help. But that's not his specialty. Pazuzu is a demon of disease. That's like going to a proctologist with a dental problem. You'd be putting the poor doctor in a tough spot!"
Geralt sighed.
Cerberus gave him a sidelong look. "Who says a proctologist can't treat dental problems?"
"Uh, well..."
An image flashed through Geralt's mind: a proctologist picking up a cotton swab and telling him to say "ah."
[You suffered a critical mental hit. Damage doubled!]
Ugh!
Geralt hurriedly shook the image out of his head. Otherwise, how would he ever look a dentist in the eye again?
Cerberus said, "Why turn away a soul that comes knocking? Con one, take one."
He had a point. Demons weren't picky eaters.
What a peaceful life...
Man and dog went back to reading the newspaper, the picture of harmony. Then Rebecca came over and announced that breakfast was ready.
Rebecca was a competent cook, provided she didn't try to invent new dishes. Just look at her track record: soy-sauce oranges, durian rice bowls, stir-fried bananas with chili... The names alone were enough to make anyone's scalp crawl.
Cerberus had tried one of them. Tears had filled his eyes. This world wasn't worth it!
Geralt picked Cerberus up, set him in his custom seat, and tied a bib around his neck.
They began to pray.
The Winchester Family revered its ancestors and had no fixed prayer. It generally amounted to thanking them for fighting and bleeding, then asking for their protection. Given that supernatural forces definitely existed in this world, Geralt prayed with genuine sincerity.
After breakfast, in the living room.
Geralt called John and Mary's cell phones. Both were out of