Screwtape's eyes were bulging. The hot liquid in his veins was pumping furiously, making them stand out. He was screaming. "INCOMPETENT! AMATEUR! You call yourself a Demon Most Low! Most Cunning! Most Deceptive! You are most PATHETIC! Couldn't even get inside a simple country girl! The Terror of Devils shamed by a moronic teenager!"
Snakefoot was not accustomed to being dressed up, not even by mid-level low managers. He bit all three of his forked tongues and remained silent; head erect, red eyes glaring unrepentantly at Screwtape. "It's not over," he said when Screwtape finally paused to take a breath. "I never lose."
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