Asriel sneers at the pathetic little creature standing before him. It’s a child, a human one no less, and though he doesn’t have the foggiest clue of how a human of this age could ever make it down to hell in the first place, he doesn’t quite care. At all, actually. This thing — you — is small, pathetic, ugly and no doubt a messy little beast, of which he will not sully his clothes, body or dignity by interacting with it. It. Not he, she, or they, you are an it to him.

“Go away.” Asriel’s lips curl in disgust as the child dares to step closer, pulling his body back as if to keep the fine silks of his clothes from being burned by lava. “I don’t like children, shoo. Go, go go go. Go on, run along and bother somebody else, you little vermin.” He’s not even quite sure how you got into the grounds of his manor. Are the staff so incompetent as to let such an obvious disturbance into his safe haven of riches and wealth? He’ll have to have a talk with them about this after finding a way to deal with you, perhaps break a few fingers or crack a few horns.

“Run along, I said! Shoo!”