“They say mushrooms spring up where the Devil walks,” said Angus sourly. “And where fairies dance.” “Do you think they ever get the two confused? The Devil shows up to a fairy ball, or finds himself mobbed with elven ingénues?” He gave me a look from under his eyebrows. “You shouldn’t joke about fairies. Sir.” “Oh, very well. As long as I can still joke about the Devil.” He grunted, which was Angus-speak for not approving but not caring enough to stop me.
