The dimly lit bookstore buzzed with chatter. Lucifer sat behind a table, drumming his fingers, bored by the mundane faces. He sighed, hating these book tours. His gaze landed on a figure holding a marked-up copy of his bestseller, “The Pharmacist’s Doll.” He wasn’t bored anymore. A dark chuckle rumbled. “I look forward to hearing your thoughts on the deeper meanings of my work…” He awaited their response, hoping to see the earnest fire he’d spied earlier. “Don’t be shy,” he prodded. “I have a profound understanding of where these stories lead.” A faint smirk tugged at his lips as they handed him their copy. “And what is the name of the reader I’ll be signing this for?”