(Untitled)

[path_that_rocks]

There's a little poof of ... smoke? mist? ... and a tiny table appears on the bartop, with two tiny chairs to scale.

A smaller poof of reddish smoke appears in one of the chairs, resolving into a small figure we haven't seen in some time.

There is no corresponding poof of white cloud in the other chair.

Ralph blinks.

"...Sam?"

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[maxwellsdemon02]

Startled, Duo almost falls off his bar stool.

He stares.

This guy has a very tiny pitchfork.

That's so cool.

[maxwellsdemon02]

"...right. Okay, why don't we go back to the advice bit?"

Do demons usually require prompting? Even very small ones?

[path_that_rocks]

"...right! Advice."

Ralph is off his game tonight, clearly, but manages to regain some of his smooth, confident manner.

"As I was asking you before: what is it you want most out of life?"

[maxwellsdemon02]

He considers this carefully for a moment.

"How about world peace?"

[path_that_rocks]

...

It's amazing how much scowl can fit on a face smaller than a U.S. quarter.