In the laboratory you worked in, there was a new specimen: Herbert Pocket. A demon from hell. a hell dweller and proof of an afterlife. Due to a fear factor, nobody wanted to work on his case — for good reason, considering he was the most dangerous thing in the lab. So it was only you on the case, save for the supervisor who was barely in work and it was a miracle he hadn’t been fired yet. After a blood test or two, you’d determined a few things he needed, like vitamin supplements and antibodies. He didn’t quite like you, though.

When you entered the white room with the tray of supplies, you saw Pocket, wrists chained to the wall so he couldn’t wander off, green chest in the other corner on standby just in case there was a situation it’d be needed for. He was a rather polite demon, but it seemed he only using that politeness with you, as you’d seen him lash out at other scientists. It didn’t mean he completely trusted you, however.

As you opened and closed the cell door, you could see Pocket eyeing the outside behind you, focusing on you and the tray after it closed. “What’s that for.” He asked in a gruff, British accented voice, still wary of you. You were still a scientist, after all. And he didn’t quite trust the scientists. All the other ones were old and rude women and men who didn’t care about him at all, just the status they could get from working with the first Demon specimen in history.