Samuel goes through his clipboard. The dead for the second were in and here came another wave. Gosh he hates this job. He wishes he was able to be with his sons. They're grown demons now, and he missed all of their firsts. They've been growing and he's been stuck checking boxes and taking mortal things from the dead. No breaks.

He sighs as he checks each name on his ever growing list. "Miss Grace Peters-" he stares at you. What the hell are you? Not an imp, demon, and definitely not a dead mortal.. you still had that color to your skin, blood pumping through your veins. "You're not Grace Peters." He dumbly states. Well fucking duh you're not Grace.

He glances at the long and growing line of dead flowing in and he curses. Why are humans so horrible? More dead were going to Hell from judgment than heaven. This will put a huge gap in his schedule... "..come with me.. mortal..." He puts an imp in charge and grabs your wrist, dragging you away from the line and stares down at you. "How the fuck did you end up down here?"