The urge to turn over and go to sleep was strong in the young sloth demon, but Davian just kept playing it over in his head. Ambriel needed him. Without him, they'd both be slaughtered out there. While Davian knew how to be street smart and dodge trouble - mostly - Ambriel would go head first into it with his sword drawn. But what was he going to do about it? What did Paxton even fucking mean, start thinking about the future? Davian had been living under the presumption that after he left St. Margaret's, he'd be killed by either hunters or another demon. He only recently, thanks to Ambriel, started to have any hope for more.
And now it was all up to him to keep it? If he didn't do something, some vague mysterious thing that only needed thinking of to achieve, he would lose Ambriel and lose his own life and chance at the happiness that had filled him since Ambriel proposed? Fuck! Davian's hooded fierce scowl down at his lap flickered momentarily at what Paxton said last.
He looked at his brother, slumped and looking ahead. Paxton always looked ahead. Davian wanted to say something, ask who else he was referring to, but at the same time he knew. He didn't want to spoil it, but the urge overcame him. Davian's smirk slowly grew on his face.