"Oh yes," Henry nodded, setting his goblet on the table and leaning forward in his seat. "Do continue with your story. You were telling me about how you met the Devil last week, and had an interesting chat with him." He winked mischievously.
George shook his head vigorously. "And I most certainly did. Yes. Met the Devil and had an enjoyable chat. He's a splendid chap, you know. Not at all like those pictures you see of him. No horns or red monkey outfit. He dresses most conservatively; wears a black suit. And he has nice gray hair." George patted his head. "Nice gray hair."
Henry poured himself another cup of wine and sipped it slowly. "But what did you talk about? I mean you have nothing in common at all."
"Oh no?" George shrugged. "But we do. We have much in common. I admire the Devil and told him so. And he said that he would be glad to have me come and work for him."
"Work for him?"
"Yes. He wants me to go with him to his headquarters."
"But his headquarters are in ... a ... well you know."
"I know, but I still want to go. He said he would make me a demon or a ghoul or something."
"Horrid, don't you think?"
"No, not at all." George gulped down the last of his wine. "Quite pleasant if I may say so. Quite a change from the market and speculation and," he snorted loudly, "those damn commodities that I lost so heavily on yesterday. No, I think I'd enjoy seeing things as a demon or a ghoul or something."