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There is a demon in the room, and he is aiming a gun at Vincent's head.
This is not the first time something like this has happened, but it's the first time it's being done by such a strange-looking being.
A head the shape of a television is nothing to envy.
His clothes are tattered, and his hand is shaking. That's either a fantastic sign or one that dooms Vincent, depending.
“Sir,” he starts, “how have I -”
“Shut up.” Vincent freezes. The demon's voice is quiet, empty.
And his.
There's distortion, but it's clear enough. It's his.
“You've said enough.”