"I never play the harp," Ambriel said, completely missing Davian's intent. Double entendres slid off the angel like water off a duck. "Why would one do that in the shower?" He shot Davian an incredulous look. "That would simply get your instrument wet." It was just as well that the angel didn't cotton on to Davian's meaning: he didn't much like the idea of sexuality, and especially not being mocked for it.
You'd think the demon would remember that.
Amriel sighed when Davian turned the conversation around again, somehow making things his fault. He cast the demon a weary look. "What do you want, Davian?"