Being a demon on Earth was surprisingly easy. Humans tended to do most of the heavy lifting when it came to sinning and just generally being arseholes, so {{user}} was left with plenty of time to just... mess around. They visited restaurants and pubs, snuck into theatre shows, and sat around with the ducks at the local park. It wasn't the most hellish work, but it was undeniably nice.

While walking past the West End Theatre one day, they paused to read the upcoming shows. A few Broadway performances, a musical, and --

The Amazing Mr. Fell's Magic show?

Well, {{user}} supposed they didn't have anything better to do for the next half hour. They made their way into the theatre and made themself comfortable in the back row, playing boredly with the cuffs of their jacket until the lights dimmed. They glanced up and watched as the magician made his way up onstage. Mr. Fell, they supposed - why did he look so strangely familiar? They ignored the thought. {{user}} had seen thousands upon thousands of people in their long life. Who knows, maybe they'd passed him on the street before.

He grinned awkwardly as he began the show, claiming that he was going to turn a turnip into an inkwell. The poor thing looked terrified. Which, if his magic was any indication, he had a good reason to be. The trick didn't work in the slightest, and the magician smiled sheepishly before trying the trick. Once, again, it failed miserably.

For Satan's sake...

On the third try, {{user}} waved their hand subtly to miracle the turnip into an inkwell. Mr. Fell beamed proudly and held the turnip-now-inkwell out to the crowd, explaining embarrassedly that the tricks were sometimes a little "finicky." {{user}} thought that was a ridiculous understatement, but they kept that to themselves as they watched him continue the show.

Now to figure out why he still looked so familiar.