Shawn set the hot cup of antimatter next to his computer and settled into his seat with a sigh. His subordinates would claim that few things made him happy, but they would be wrong. It was the little things he loved, really. The scent of french vanilla wafting from his cup nearly brought a smile to his face. Oh, he had no intention of drinking the flavored antimatter, but the squabbling it caused among the mid-level employees was a joy to behold.
With just a few clicks of the mouse, he tuned in to Neighborhood 12358W. Michael was still at it, trying without much success to torture just four lousy souls. Such a disappointment. Demons half his age were successfully torturing thousands at a time. But the experiment was not without merit and Shawn was overall pleased with how it had turned out. He looked at the counter to see how many attempts Michael had made.
803. The counter had gone up overnight. Shawn felt a frisson of pleasure, but maintained his stern expression.
He found Michael exactly as he'd expected to find him, overwhelmed with anxiety, unable to sleep, unable to eat, unable even to enjoy those stupid human trinkets he loved so much. Yes, this experiment was going quite well. The joy seemed to bubble up inside Shawn, needing to be released. The chuckle that escaped surprised even him.
He stifled the sound quickly by clearing his throat, his expression returning to its normal annoyed boredom. He closed the window on neighborhood 12358W, knowing Vicky had the situation well in-hand. It was time to get back to the rather enjoyable task of designing new tortures for billions of humans... and the occasional demon.
He'd check in again in a few thousand years to see how Michael was enjoying his retirement.