That is... offputting but ignorable. Air continues steadily.

"Clement..."

"That's me.  Do you want us to die, Pieters?  Do you want us all to die?"

"No.  I want - you know what I want."

"I know what you want," he affirms.  "And yeah, I would also rather us all die than bargain with my soul, which is why I didn't do that.  And I got lucky and got one who'll accept book recommendations instead of wanting to torture me or something, and that may be foreboding in terms of the long game, but today we're playing a very short game."

"I don't know why you thought that was a good idea to say in front of one."  And she sweeps out of the room.

Sigh.

"Why is - oh, never mind," sighs the demon.

"I think she'll grow out of it.  At least a little.  If she, you know, gets the chance to."

"Not what I was going to ask."

"I don't know what you were going to ask."

"Probably because I didn’t ask it."

"Right.  Well, I didn't really mean it as a response to what you didn't ask.  I just... I don't know.  It doesn't matter that I said it.  I didn't really say it for reasons related to trying to achieve a specific result."

"Understood."

"...What's your name?  Now that you've already heard ours?"

"I’m Cam."

"Normal," he nods inanely.

"Campbell Mark Swan, even, like I'm a real boy."

Clement visibly doesn't ask for elaboration.

...Except: "How do you spell that?  For if - probably I'm not going to ever summon you again, but.  The option."

Cam spells it.

He types that up.  And then keeps typing, intermittently.

Cam reads Hamlet to himself, tail swishing over the A4 papers.

After a few minutes an alarm starts blaring.  Clement jumps, startled but apparently not surprised.  "I don't think that's any new information," he projects.  "They just -"  It cuts out again.  He continues at a normal volume.  "They just maybe fixed it.  For a minute.  Or maybe they fixed it and turned off the audible part so we all could think."

"...so I should keep doing what I'm doing?"

They start up again.  "Yes, please," Clement shouts.