[John believes that most humans don't know what they want or that they can't have it for some reason or another. It's that gray area that demons like him play in the most. Give someone their 'secret' wants, and there's a myraid of reactions. But this one? John isn't so sure he can be manipulated like others.]

I sort of... come with the property, you might say.

[A lie, sort of, not that John thinks anyone would appreciate the distinction. Red filters through his irises, lips parting in a smile full of sharp teeth. A beat, and he's nothing more than a scruffy sort in a ratty trench. The sensation of living warm human skin against his hellfire heated self is a sensation that hasn't come about for two years since he died. While he notices the flogger, John doesn't fear that. Those sharp teeth come back into play again with a twist of his head, an attempted nip at those fingers. There's no desire to break skin or shed blood, more a warning to this here human which of them is the demon in an alien version of Hell.]

You want nice or something that screams appropriately, you might be better off elsewhere. I'm good at holding the flogger [a hand lowers to stir a fingertip through the flogger's lashes] or taking it. You should always be careful what you ask for in Hell though. You might just get it. For a price.