Someone significantly less pale - a somewhat eye-searing shade of fiery orange, in fact - grins widely at the appearance of a potential source of information, and stops spinning around trying to look at all of it at once. "Mill-i-ways, what a name for a place, it is! It is new to me! What is it?" 

Someone with a nigh-supernatural threat sensor might notice that, despite being (a) unarmed, (b) smiling disarmingly, and (c) barely over six feet tall even with a tall set of spiraling horns, the demon is not at all harmless. 

Of course he does. That was most of the reason for the hesitant initial reaction.

"Milliways is a magic interdimensional bar that sometimes steals doors from random universes and lets interesting people in. You can meet just about any sort of person here. There are rules - no nudity and no violence in the main bar area. I am told there is someone working Security who can definitely handle us both. I do not care to test this claim and accordingly have not committed any violence, nor do I plan to."

"Aww, where's your sense of fun? Bars are the best places for fights and getting arrested is hilarious - no, no, don't worry about me, I am a responsible and polite member of society who would never dream of committing violence in such a lovely establishment." He spreads his arms and hands illustratively: look, no weapons. This is of course a completely symbolic gesture, but seems to be sincere. 

He peers at the stranger, who has implicitly claimed to be interesting. "So, interdimensional stranger, what makes you an interesting person?" 

"I have made myself a collector of unusual magical artifacts. Among other traits. Perhaps you'd like to buy the right to ask a question of my very nice crystal ball? Gives you a vision that tries its best to answer any question you ask."

"A crystal ball!" He claps his hands in childish delight. "Oh, wizards never let me touch their things, they're always going on about how they'll die before they let me corrupt their life's work or whatever, it's so unfair... this of course I will definitely not do to your very nice crystal ball, I have never corrupted anything in my whole life, everyone is just mean to me because the see the horns and the hooves, you know, and suddenly I'm scary." 

This is to a significant degree objectively false, but he really does believe it. 

Now, what to offer to pay with ... 

"I didn't make it, I bought it. But it's very handy, yes. I don't suppose you have money of some kind? You don't seem the type, somehow."

If it does get 'corrupted', Nick has those purifying pearls, they'd probably fix it. And he can upcharge to cover the risk.

Giggle. "I am not really the type, no," he agrees. "I did however recently acquire a few very shiny rocks!" (Which he totally did not in any way murder a jeweler for. Also, the jeweler had it coming.) 

He reaches into an inner pocket of his silk coat and produces a gemstone. It is reasonably obvious he has no idea how much it's worth, but the answer is 'a fair amount,' if Nick knows anything about shiny rocks. 

He is acquainted with shiny rocks. 

"I'd have to examine it a bit more closely, but 'shiny rocks' would do for letting you ask a few questions."

Bounce bounce. "Fantastic!" He hands over the gemstone for examination. "Now, what do I ask the crystal ball, hmm, this is so exciting, I have to ask it something interesting..." 

He examines the shiny rock. "...Three questions. It does better at questions like 'where is the lost treasure of Blackbeard' than 'what is the meaning of life'. Also the door to your world has to be open to answer questions about your world."

Three questions! How traditional. 

"Oh, I already know the meaning of life!" he says brightly. "No one ever seems to understand the explanation, though. Hmm. What about how questions, suppose I asked it 'how do I regrow a severed arm,' will it show me how to cast a regeneration spell?" 

"Likely not. It might direct you to a potion that'd do it, or somewhere you could learn, or tell you how to convince someone to do it, though."

"What about a thing that probably exists but I don't know what is specifically? Less 'where's the secret treasure of Blackbeard' and more 'where's the coolest magic sword'?" 

"Probably doable, you can even describe 'coolest' for best results! You write down appropriate words on papers as part of it."

"Writing stuff down, of course, very wizardy," nod nod. "Second thing, hm," thoughtful tap-tap of his tail against the floor. "Maybe gotta figure out how to fix mind control without any paladins? Aaaaaand then I think I want to find a dragon. I have run out of dragon." 

"Well, one at a time." He pockets the gem. "You want to know where the coolest magic sword in your world is? Write down eight words that seem appropriate to looking for a cool magic sword and then come over to that booth over there."

Nod, nod. "I shall!"

He skips over to the bar and addresses it in the obvious expectation that the barkeep is invisible. The resulting napkins are peered at fascinatedly, and then he hands over another gemstone and pats the bar delightedly when it vanishes. Presently he has received in exchange a glass of something blue and slightly luminescent, a plate of some unidentifiable raw meat, several sheets of paper, and an inkpen, the collection of which will occupy him for at least a short time. 

Speaking of which, "More blood, please, bar. On my tab."

And his glass refills. Human, if Ashiok is familiar. He sips conservatively. He opens the book he was reading before again.

He is moderately familiar, at least, in the way of people who've definitely encountered plenty of human blood but maybe not ever actually drunk any. He flashes a fangy, approving smile, but doesn't comment. 

After a little while Ashiok presents Nick with eight slips of paper, reading: 

freedom

sharp

s͜p̵͘í͜͜r̕a͢l̨͜

̼͉f̩̲l̸̡̙̪͇̳̰̪̣̀m̧̡͎̗̹͙̗a̡͙̰̝̣͇d̨͉̩̕h͏̭̮͙̠͟ ̧̧͓̝̼

z͚͕͔̗̞y͏͓̟y̶̪͕͍̻̦̺̙̙̮͝z̶͏̲̞͕m̛̘̲̦̼͔̀

̵̴̯͉͉̱̰͞t̹͍̬ͅe̵̛͙ȩ̴̨̯̯̳̻ṭ̞̝̳͝͝h̨͏̙̠

̙̬͇̫̠ṿ̨̡͚̭̩̖͇̟į̡͚͔̻͔͈r͎͚͞ͅc̡̮̫͞l̺͖̼̪̲͍̩̭͠y͏̝̝w̸͙̰̜͢w̗͉̗͜

d̏ͫ̏͏̬͚̳̞i̴̘̣͉̥͖̤͇͎͇͌̈́͗̚͠f̛͎͕̲̯̳͇͙͍̏͒ͫ͐̏͆̀̔ͤq̢̛̞̣̝͉̯̮̉̀̌̈̑̅́ͭ̃ḿ̛͕̤ͯͩͩͣ̀͐ͭ̏z͔̝͇̥̦̹͍̀͊́͝͠y̸̘̝̦͚̒̊͌̍̅͢ͅr̵̳̯͉̈̐̅̍ͅ

Ah... Huh.

"Question. Are these words inherently magical in any way, shape, or form."

"Nnnnooooo?" he hazards, somewhat less than confidently. "They're not spell components or anything, they don't .... do anything magic, they're just words? Their function is they ... mean ... things?" 

"Any words that Milliways translation is not handling gracefully I do not want going near my crystal ball. Could give it dangerous ideas. That would be... All of them except freedom and sharp."

"Dangerous ideas!" he giggles, secure in the knowledge that this is totally not what they're for. (That's totally what they're for.) "That would require them to contain any ideas! They don't, promise, they mean things that don't mean anything, that's sort of the point - okay, okay, let me try again..." 

Scribble scribble. 

freedom

sharp

laughter

spiral

unholy 

teeth

cold

darkness

"Much better. We shall burn these as you speak your question, and the vision will begin."

(He's going to have to use one of those cleansing pearls, isn't he? But it's a very nice ruby, that gem...)

(A contact corruption hazard? Him? Never!) 

"Okay! You have a burning-source? I know it's a stereotype, but I don't really do fire."