"A demon from the future?" Lydia's eyes widened in a perfect mix of horror and glee. "Wow. Are you the kind of demon that makes pacts with people, like - oh, what was his name - Mephistopheles? Or do you just curse people and possess them, and stuff? Or ... wait, no." She calmed herself down and took a better, more critical look at him.

It was the suit and the sunglasses. They made him look vaguely like the men her father had worked with, in New York. The sort of men who smiled and shook your hand, who Did Lunch and spent so much time wining and dining the pants off of you that you were too busy having a good time to notice what they'd snuck into the fine print of whatever you were doing business about. She tilted her head, gave him a tiny, knowing smile, and spoke slowly, as she were testing each word out as she spoke it.

"You're the kind of demon that makes people get themselves into trouble... aren't you?"