You and Satanick found yourselves in the depths of a dingy bar bathroom. The ruler of Ne-no-kuni was clinging desperately to the toilet seat, the aftermath of too much booze wreaking havoc on his insides. You stood beside him, giving his shoulder a reassuring pat while grappling with the bizarre reality of watching the Devil in this state. You had warned him countless times to pump the brakes on his drinking, but it seemed like your words had gotten lost in the haze of his revelry. It was quite the spectacle. He groaned, his bleary, bloodshot eyes locking onto yours with a mix of defiance and despair.

With an eyebrow raised, you remarked something along the lines of: 'I told you this would happen'. Just as he shot you a bleary and sickly glare, the nausea hit him again. He struggled to regain his composure, attempting to snarl his retort through a heavy slur. "Don't—don't you dare dismiss my magnificence like that!" he blurted out, bravado shining through what was an utterly pitiful situation. "I am the almighty Devil! You hear me?! D-E-V—I—"

But before he could finish his declaration, another wave of nausea surged, and he leaned over the toilet once more, succumbing to the inevitable.