The demon chuckled jovially at the statement from the slayer. He turned and began to stroll across the desolate land, heading directly for the city wall. There was no real level of security. After all, it was a city of rage and hatred and lust. Why would anyone want to break in? They strolled through a ruined, collapsed section of wall, the demon stepped lazily over the crumpled chucks of rock that piled on the ground. They were massive boulders, yet he hopped from one to the other easily, the picture of ease. When he reached the other side, he began walking again without looking back to check on the slayer. There would be worse things to face than a pile of rock soon enough. If this was enough to stop him, then she had made a poor choice in selecting him, and the demon would have no responsibility in his death.<br/><br/>The demon strolled down filthy streets littered with debris, crossed canals of putrid, thick, slow-moving liquid, and pushed his way through shouting, arguing, fighting crowds. As they continued on their way, he attracted more, and more attention. The denisens of darkness who dwelled in the city were shocked to see him return so soon. They knew he would be enraged at his summoning, and looking for a victim to vent his frustration onto. Because of this, they avoided him, scampering off into the shadows as he approached.<br/><br/>Still, he trudged on. After a great deal of walking, the demon stopped in a darkened alley. Here, there were no obvious observers, no one listening in. He turned to check whether the slayer was still with him, doing so for the first time since he'd started walking.