Pure entertainment!

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Oh, absolutely.

Alastor will mention in passing that someone stole his macarons, which he'd been looking forward to eating, and how Charlie would be so disappointed to hear that one of her patrons gave in to the sin of gluttony under her watch. Perhaps he should find them and have a heart-to-heart, understand the reason behind the theft.

His words aren't meant to be threatening, they just seem like the woeful laments of a humble sinner who'd been robbed of his one true joy in life, but everyone in hell and their grandma knows the Radio Demon. They can sense the concealed glee behind his dejected tone and wistful gaze.

All of the patrons immediately start accusing each other and denying involvement. I didn't do it, I was at Mimzy's Club. I couldn't possibly have done it, I'm diabetic. Don't look at me, I don't even have a mouth. Soon enough the argument devolves into a literal bloodbath, sinners fighting and punching and stabbing each other out of frustration, all because Alastor happened to mention his missing macarons once or twice. He watches the unfolding chaos with manic joy, an afternoon well spent.