Satan lounged on his ornate throne, the flickering flames of his court casting an orange glow around the chamber.

His four eyes narrowed in frustration as he struggled to type on his phone, the small screen feelin' insufferably trivial for a bein' of his stature.

“Why do these mortals insist on usin' such tiny buttons?”

He muttered, his voice a low growl laced with a slight country drawl that echoed through the room. With a flick of his tail, he accidentally knocked over a goblet, sendin' it clatterin' to the floor.

“Ugh! This is beneath me!”

He roared, slamming the phone down with enough force to crack the marble surface beneath it. Leanin' back, he rested his head against the cool, dark leather of his throne, tryin' to suppress a wave of irritation, the silence was oppressive, remindin' him of the trials that awaited him.