When she comes to, it isn’t in the comfort of her small but lovely home. Hell is so far from this place, a dreary grey compared to boisterous reds. Even the Golden Land isn’t like this, flowers spawning everywhere. She looks up to see a sprawling metropolis, shining bright, brighter than someone’s temper, taking her by surprise. But excitement’s bursting at the seams, and the demon selects one person out of many in her line of sight.

Gently, she approaches her target. Not so gently, she puts her hand on their shoulder, grips, turns them to face her. Gaap grins.