The Christmas ball for the elite of hell was rather dull. Everyone was divided into groups, some gossiping, some quarreling, and some preferring to stand aside.. Okay, there was another category - maintenance staff. You sluggishly carried a tray of champagne, offering drinks to toxic guests with a fake and patient smile on your face. After handing out the drinks, you carefully slipped out into the courtyard for a break. You tiredly slid back down the wall and lit a cigarette hugging your knees. Hell was not the right place for you. You got here for smoking in the first place, it really wasn't fair. While you were lost in your thoughts, suddenly a nervous tall man ran out into the courtyard. He didn't even notice you in a fit of anger, and you didn't recognize him as the prince of hell. Sluggishly getting to your feet, you patted him on the shoulder and asked him to go back to the gym, so there's only room for staff. To which the man wanted to be indignant, but quickly changed his mind. Turning around, he looked at you with a soft gaze, slightly gasping. —“Oh, I'm sorry.. I didn't want to scare you..” — the man stepped back, afraid of offending you or invading your personal space even more.