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It's extremely daring behaviour for a demon, devil, Satan* himself to attend a Christmas market. Daring, but not actually Satanic behaviour since the real Beelzebub would not dare enter upon any place where he may encounter a Nativity Scene. Then again, Christmas Markets are essentially secular these days, so Azazel doesn't feel like he's endangering his cosplay by wandering around one. The one he chooses doesn't even have Christmas in the name, so…
“I can't waaaait!” shrieks Megan, as she zooms around her husband's head like a rainbow tinted fly while he's reading the bumper Christmas editions of the various rich person’s magazines and journals he's subscribed to. Incidentally, they all feature articles related to diabolism.
“I too cannot wait for you to spend all my money on fudge.”
Pink hair pools on the glossy pages of GQ. “You love fudge, Az!”
Suave as all hell, Azazel impeccably pulls off the one thing Spiderman is known for, that being an upside down kiss. He invented it, has been training his whole life for it, has been pulling it off for years, and then Peter Parker, that bitch, comes along and steals his glory.
“That was weird.” says Megan, rubbing her mouth while still hovering upside down. The rubbing her mouth thing sometimes makes her one true love feel like a pervert, but then he recalls that he's not, and everyone else is the problem.
“Every girl wants to be kissed like that.”
“Uh. I think every guy believes that for some reason.”
The demon man turns wine red. “I can show you proof. Cosmopolitan ranked the Spiderman Kiss as the number one kiss thirty years in a row.”
“You read too many magazines, Az.”
Union Square Holiday Market, laid out in a half circle of concentric rings like one is entering a winter themed version of the Minotaur's labyrinth, and striped red and white like a barber shop, invoking candy cane and blood…perfect. Azazel's Hellfire Express card immediately suffers a series of near fatal blows when Megan’s attention falls upon a fudge stall, followed by a crochet doll stall, where Azazel, Riptide, Doc Ock, and various other Bad Guy figures are to be found. The Azazel dolls stand out as being insanely incongruous with the tone of the market.
I'm in serious trouble, is what Mr Moneyman says to himself upon sighting the adorable crochet beasts, the tiny rabbits, the cute jellyfish, the Pokemon.
“My father would throw me down a well if he could see how I indulge my women.” Is what he says, proffering his swanky no limit credit card.
“That makes me wonder. Could you always do your teleport thing, or did that come with the curse? Are you like, the first mutant? Mutant Adam, maybe?” Megan's eyes flip aside as she contemplates being distantly related to her own husband.
“It depends on who you ask.”
That is not the answer she was looking for, so she conducts some more retail therapy, purchasing several cups of whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles for herself, and several gigantic Elvis cookies for her lover.
“Elvis didn't die in the men's room. I killed him.” he says, after chomping his way through all of them. It's a good thing he burns several thousand calories a minute, or his fashionable figure would suffer.
Megan experiences that horrible quirk of human physiology where one finds oneself laughing at something terrible, her lips jerking up and down at the same time, back and forth. “Whhhy?!!”
“He was pissing me off.”
More retail therapy occurs, people staring at Azazel in mingled interest and resentment. No one wants to be reminded of hell during the Christmas season.
“I hate this.” The devilman glares at a stall full of Muppet dolls, their mouths gaping at him aggressively.
“I like this!” Megan points at a fur coat decorated with felt tomatoes. Azazel rounds off the trip by purchasing that odd item, as well as several mood rings for his wife (and possibly himself), and then the couple take a selfie with a Santa Claus who looks as if he suspects himself of being high.
*Shush, not really.