One gives presents on Eid, of course.
Hakkai hates rainy nights, yes. The sound of rain brings with it a crawling anxiety, the first hint of the enormous black thing that comes lumbering in its wake: horror and despair reaching to strangle his soul. He takes deep breaths to steady his thundering heart, warm his frozen hands. Jiip flutters over from the bed and lands on his shoulder: heavy, soft, alive.
Hakkai looses a little shiver of breath, not exactly laughter, not entirely hysteria. "My watch-dragon," he says.
Jiip's long neck loops about Hakkai's and his breath puffs in Hakkai's ear. 'Kyuu,' he cheeps: believe it, Marshal.