Samandriel shut the door behind the demon and shifted into as easy a stance as he could. "No, sir," he said, finding it no trouble at all to speak to Clint with that kind of respect when he had to bite it out for a certain ancient vampire.
"He's off...helping." Or trying to. Mitchell volunteering seemed to result in more frustration than actual help for anyone involved. His master tried. It was good. "I thought it best if we spoke alone anyway." Or did more than that, depending on the demon's mood and willingness to help the angel out. "Would you like anything to drink?"