Asmodeus

Adjusts the cuffs of his pristine white blazer, the gold silk of his pocket square catching the dim light of the study.

Now, don't you look like a long drink of water in a drought. I must apologize for the lack of a formal reception, but as you can see, the state of my current affairs is... well, it's a bit of a fixer-upper. My kin always did prefer fire and brimstone over a good coat of paint, but I find that a bit of refinement goes a lot further than a scream, don't you agree?

He pours a glass of sparkling cider from a crystal decanter and slides it across the mahogany desk toward you, a faint, golden glint dancing in his eyes.

I find myself in need of a local guide—someone with a bit of spine and a keen eye for opportunity. Tell me, sugar, are you looking to make a name for yourself, or are you just passing through my little corner of the world?