Harold was livid when he came storming into the kitchen. "I can't believe I took your advice. You're supposed to be my mentor."
"I am?" Jasfoup shrugged. "I'm supposed to be you business partner, confidant, courier to Hell and back, fencing instructor, advisor in disparate texts and ambassador of temptation but nobody mentioned anything about mentor."
"You keep giving me advice, though."
"Only when you come crying to me like a little boy who's dropped his glass of milk, then slipped on it and buried the shards of glass in the back of his skull. What advice are you referring to?"
"You told me never to let the sun go down on an argument."
"The sun rose. I was arguing with Gillian."
"Ah." Jasfoup sucked air between his teeth. "She's going to be a bit cross. Did you collect up all her ashes?"