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". . . pretty, I feel pretty an' witty an' --" Ligur warbled, in a voice like flamingos gargling mice.
"Yeah, I always suspected that," Hastur said, sniggering at Ligur's startled yelp. "Nice voice, Ligur."
Ligur hastily tortured some underlings in an attempt to look busy. "Can't chat, important infernal business," he said, hoping the blush would be attributed to the heat being turned infinitely high.
"You ain't pretty or witty," Hastur said. "As fer the other --" He tipped Ligur's chin up with one sharp claw and kissed him. Ligur didn't disembowel him on the spot.
"Well, one outta three ain't bad," Hastur grinned.