[ Alastor hums, static popping a little. It never fails to surprise him how alarmingly squeamish denizens of Hell are. If only Earth and the living mortal souls on it knew what Lucifer Morningstar is actually like. Would there be much to fear beyond this little man’s wrath?

Overrated, really. ]

Really? I feel as though my appetite has only been stimulated further. Though this might also be due to an untimely interruption.

[ Lucifer. He means Lucifer - and there is an edge to his voice as he says it. He hates being interrupted during a meal.

Speaking of! The poor demon in question is still gurgling. Spitting and coughing up blood. Seems like the thing is trying to speak. Alastor tuts. ]

My, it seems that everyone around here lacks matters. Can’t you see that we are having a conversation? [ Those tendrils slip about the neck of the already dying demon. Alastor snaps his fingers and the tendrils squeeze. There’s a sickening accompanying snap of a neck. Breathing stops. The flailing and sounds stop. The appendages slip back into the shadows, leaving the dead weight where it is. ] Much better!

[ Now he turns back to Lucifer proper, manifesting that microphone cane and leaning forward on it. ]

Now where were we? Oh yes, diseases. Fret not, lest you forget where we are. Of course everything is diseased!