Constricted by a bevy of designer straps facilitated by the finest designers in hell, Parooz recognized these hell bound tendrils as vintage chanel. He was familiar with the Nazi sympathizer turned couturier, Coco. Surprisingly, the demon wasn't a fan. As a means of revenge, the second his presence graced the gates of hell, her signature pattern ran through the thinnest layers of his skin like a seal of glyphs. They signified a spell as she attempted to drag him towards her to settle his unbecoming critique of her last collection. 

The only way to escape this straight jacket like hold was burn them off but even turning himself into a violet human torch could not yield the force. She was livid, and after fighting Sośe, Parooz wasn't in too jolly of a mood. It felt like he was dragged for an eternity before the ashen haired skull of the devil crashed into the floor before the iconic two-toned Cinderella slipper of the demonic couturier.

Before the mafioso could look up, her voice coming from everywhere but nowhere at once chastised him in a language known to drive mortals to insanity.

"Sepias, I've finally caught you. So elusive, it was almost as if you didn't exist for decades. You should know better than to show your face around here without visiting Moi!

Squirming like larvae in a cocoon, Parooz opened his mouth for a witted retort but he found himself speaking directly to Kynion. He was no longer in hell. At least for now he could take a second to exhale but the way he leered at the curator of the Nexus was the gaze of someone who had been severely blue-balled. Perhaps he sadistically enjoyed what was happening moments ago.

"I never get so much as even a warning…"