Try to talk your way out

“How professional,” you say mocking, “tell me, Monica, are you aware of the fact that I am the personal slave of the dark witch? Did she allowed you to touch her toys? And what would she say if you let her symbol of victory starve?”

“I ...” Monica says but stops, “fine. Take an apple and leave. One apple. Nothing more.”

You smile. Even if she hates your family, Monica is not ready to anger the dark witch. An apple is not much but enough to make it through the morning. The girl you met earlier hands you an apple and bows her head. You caress her head to praise her loyalty. She smiles and giggles a little bit.

“Thanks, Monica,” you say grinning, “by the way, did you do something with your hair? It looks nice.”

“Get the fuck out of my kitchen!” Monica screams and throws a knife at you.

But it's poorly aimed and only hits the wall. You leave the kitchen. It feels so good to still be in charge. At last a little bit.