I am dead. I suppose He could have stopped it, if He'd wanted to. Or made sure I wound up in my own Hell. Instead I'm here, as is someone who shouldn't be. I'd consider that punishment enough.

[The more conciliatory Lloyd is, the more Lucifer likes him. Though, maybe alcohol and drugs help with that. He leans forward to tap off the ash into the ashtray on the table, gesturing with an idle wave towards Lloyd.]

So, my lovely liquor dispensary agent, are you quite comfortable making yourself the dealer of illicitly delicious substances down here? No high-reaching plans for you?