[Dito pauses at the demon's query, his hand arrested in the air inches from the icy metal of the lamp post. Another harsh gust of wind slices through his clothing, making him stifle a moan of discomfort and draw his coat tighter around himself.]

What's displeasing me... [His voice is bitter from the cold and his own embarrassing weakness.] ...is that we're standing around here with our thumbs up our asses when we could be sitting by a warm fire with our bellies full of food.

Do you want that or not? Because if that's the case let's table the conversation until one of us isn't freezing his balls off. Sound good?

[Bravo on not making it sound like you've got something to hide, Dito.]