Bakszén, Prince of Hell and unwilling ambassador to Fairyland despite his best efforts, eyed the little squares of black and white paper in his hand suspiciously. "I don't see how I'm supposed to destroy humanity with these," he finally said, curling his lip in contempt. "They're just cards. What am I supposed to do, papercut His Majesty the Pure-hearted Earth Clod over there to death?"
Boricz and Durmonyás carefully avoided meeting each other's eyes, while Jázmina smothered something that sounded suspiciously like a snort.
"It's just a game," said Dilló, setting down a few cards. "See, if you're the judge, you play one of these black cards with the blanks, say, I drink to forget blank. Then everyone else has to play a white card to fill in the blank, and you pick the funniest one."
"Yes," said Józsiás, tossing down one of the cards from his hand with a smirk. "Like Bakszén's over-inflated ego. Although I'm not sure there's enough booze in Fairyland to forget that."
"It's a custom deck," Boricz mouthed at Durmonyás, who had sidled out of reach of Bakszén's elbow.
"I don't think that's funny at all," Bakszén said, tail lashing like an affronted cat. "And where's the part where you destroy humanity? I thought heroes were against false advertising."
"It's a metaphor," said Jázmina soothingly, as Józsiás turned a funny color and became very interested in his cards. "Sometimes the funniest ones are horrible, like, Every holiday party needs...a windmill full of corpses."
Bakszén and Durmonyás both blinked at her in incomprehension.
"Maybe," said Boricz after a moment of awkward silence while everyone who wasn't a devil imagined holiday parties in Hell, "we should just play charades."