Pzloem couldn't believe what it was hearing through it's torn, ripped ears. A hunter was wanting to kill another hunter? For power, for personal gain? Such a thing was unheard of among demons, with the hunters supposedly the human incarnation of angels, albeit... diluted. The things this hunter was saying didn't make her seem like one, and Pzloem started to doubt if the scent in the blood was faked somehow, yet he knew that such a thing was not possible: he was far too confident in his abilities to start doubting them, and no mere human was going to make him start doing so. He paced the circle again, trapped by whatever magics made up the pentagram, head tilted towards the hunter. A few seconds of silence, apart from the clicking and tapping on it's claws and hooves, and then the empty warehouse was filled with an eerie chittering noise, emanating from the demon, before the creature erupted into some sort of frenzied laughter. The laughter continued for a minute or so, the creature's body contorting as it went through it's hysterical fit, and then subsided, the demon looking at the hunter with malicious glee in its eyes, open mouthed grin revealing rows upon rows of sharp, jagged teeth, like a child's drawing of a monster. It looked at the hunter in what could have been disbelief before it spoke again, voice still sounding raw and broken, yet amusement being detectable as well.<br/><br/>"The old man died..." it said, pacing the circle once more as it looked at the girl, before scratching at the edge of the pentagram with a claw, as if looking for a weakness in it's prison. "And your brother is in power... so that makes you his daughter? I saw him a few times, slaughtering my kin left and right, no care in the world except the slaughtering of demons... so he finally died, placed your brother on his throne, and his sweet little girl isn't happy with the arrangement. And why should you be?" he asked, voice suddenly losing it's harsh sound and taking on something softer, something smoother, sounding as if spoken by something that didn't have it's still-beating heart pumping blood out of it's chest. "Surely you should have the throne? You are clearly the more powerful hunter, more skilled, surely you would make the better choice?"<br/><br/>By now the creature's voice was sounding almost angelic, attempting to twist it's words into just the right shape to worm it's way into the girl's mind: usually such a ploy only worked on those who were weak-minded, but this girl was a hunter who had summoned a demon, who wanted her brother dead and had the determination to not get caught. That, and she was offering freedom on this plane, something no demon would pass up, even if it sounded more like a lie than anything.<br/><br/>"Of course I would help, to correct this perversion of justice, to right this horrendous wrong. If only for the murder of your brother... " the phrase sounded on coming from so heavenly a voice, "...consider me bound by yourself." Pzloem dipped his head, a universal mark of submitting, willing to take the gamble that the hunter might just kill him once the task was complete. Still, such a beautiful task it was, helping a hunter fall down, every inch the embodiment of the story of Lucifer, an incorruptible symbol brought down by greed and hatred. The idea almost made Pzloem laugh once more, but it managed to suppress the noise, and stepped as  close to the hunter as the pentagram would allow.<br/><br/>"Let me out of this prison," he said, still employing a silver-tongue, "And your task will be done."