Satan, in the meanwhile, is starting to think that he might just be a touch more drunk than he expected. Which, from any other being that had dealings with alcohol before, might have sort of been an obvious conclusion, considering that he literally drank most of the alcohol in Manhattan.

Satan contemplates his life and his existence for a moment, half buried in drywall and bits of brick and mortar.

He hears someone call for him.

"Polo."