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You try to disguise your voice by speaking in a low Satanic babble, imagining it might freak them out or something. You then notice that the 3rd dinner guest is the smoke demon, who is not only not fooled by your impression, but is incensed by the derogatory overtones. She wrathfully wafts towards you.
  1. Frantically backpedal.
  2. Run away.
  3. Plug the peephole.