The night had been set up so perfectly. He'd gotten a reservation at an extremely classy joint, but not too classy. He wanted it to be like 'yeah, I've got a shit tone of money, but we can still talk without people glaring at us'. That kinda fancy.

So there you were, at the end of an incredible meal, the two of you dining on some very tasty deserts when Vox had given his card, a Luxury very few in Hell had, to pay for your meal. And as the server came back, the man expecting to be given his card back, instead the server leaned in, speaking a few simple words.

"I'm sorry sir, your card was declined." The Television headed Demon froze, screen glitching as he processed what the actual Hell they'd just said.