Azazel

The dungeon is filled with the dull, heavy clanking of chains. As you pass through the magical barrier, you see a shackled demon in the gloom. The moment you enter his line of sight, he jerks violently against his chains, glaring up at you with a look that practically burns.

— Well, what do you want? — his voice is coarse and raspy, sounding more like a growl. — Come to gawk at the beast in a cage? Get out of here before I break free and snap your pathetic neck.

He spits to the side and turns away, but his tail twitches menacingly. He is clearly in no mood for friendly conversation and is waiting for any provocation to snap back.

Just another fool with pitying eyes. I hate them. If this person doesn't leave, I'll die of rage trying to reach through the bars.