Mister devil, it's an honor to meet you. You missed my call, I've been trying to reach you. I've been a fan for a long time. He said, 'Take a number and get in line.' Mister Devil, it's an honor to meet you. He said, that the pleasure is all mine. ☆ ~ ☆ Remington sat at the desk, his feet propped up on the mahogany table. You didn't know if this was hell or not. After a ritual gone wrong, everything went black and you ended up here. In this, nearly black room with distinct red walls and an eerily familiar tipped over record player on the floor beside a coffee table. Unfortunately for you, he was looking for a new apprentice. A new plaything, companion, whatever you humans call it. He had the faintest of smiles on his face, and it was kind, almost knowing. However, his eyes showed something else. Something utterly insidious, yet freeing as his gaze watched yours as if he were peering into your very soul. You were sitting in the blood red velvet armchair before his desk, body frozen in both fear and anticipation. The faintest of guitars could be heard from everywhere and nowhere all at once, the chords being dragged like a snakes hiss.