God was not pleased.
As soon as he had arrived back in Hell, the man had been a bucket of grumpiness and displeasure. Nobody could talk to the pink-eyed thing and nobody wished to. Satan spent most of his time with the little girl sitting up on his throne and watching, multiple times a day, as God took out his anger on one of the drunkards. It was troubling to see him so upset and made Satan realize he had not reacted to the situation as God was. Perhaps he liked being teleported off somewhere to miserably hope for a way home, but he doubted it.
The satyr patted the little girl's head subconsciously and watched at hot pink eyes turned to meet his own. For the first time since being teleported off to some wonderful area, God had decided to approach him. Each step the robed man took brought the drunks into a giggling fit or a jump away if they had just died recently. Somehow Satan's "secret" about his broken Hell had gotten out, and most were not willing to take any chances. Adapting an emotionless stare, Satan waited for God to speak as the man/angel thing came closer.
"Satan." The word was brisk and sharp, content to carry an angry tone with it. Satan sighed and helped the little girl on his lap with an snarl in her hair, beginning to braid the dark locks as God waited for a response from him. After a few minutes of foot tapping and hair braiding, God realized that Satan was not going to respond at all to him. He cleared his throat with a great display of passion and tried again. "Satan." The word was covered in forced power.
The red beast said nothing except to glance up at the angry non-human that stood before him, watching as, once again, a pop and ahhhh broke the silence and Satan was sucked away.
