If Klaus asked, John would be willing to part with a few. One of the tiny perks of being a magician is an endless pack of cigarettes. That said, they're Silk Cuts which aren't a great quality brand.

As much as the Blue Hawaiian is great in size, there's a small downward twist to John's mouth at it. Nuclear blue has never boded well for his body in the morning. While he's a demon and not technically alive anymore, he isn't sure what this Hell's alcohol is like. Be just his luck to end up wishing for death (again) over some frou-frou fancy drink.

His human self might die laughing at him.

But then whisky makes an appearance, and John leans across the bar to get a better look until it is set before him.

"You are a prince among men and wiser than any of those three who went out chasing a comet in the sky."

The slow burn and hit of warmth from the alcohol is a feeling he's missed. In the other Hell, it could be felt, but it wasn't as real. Point one in the new Hell's favour.

"Bartender by trade or just a new career choice now that a deity is demanding you repent?"