For all his undesirable dealings, one thing could be said about Azazel: he knew how to clean up. It was a fact that, on reflection, probably shouldn't come as much of a surprise. After all, like most demons, he was no stranger to the sin of pride and vanity. In any case, he was looking rather swish tonight in a finely tailored black three-piece suit, a champagne glass already in his hand.
Of course, Azazel had no interest at all in the IERC, and certainly none in promoting environmentally friendly activities. Both were rather at odds with the whole demonic agenda. Not that any of that talk about pollution and global warming had ever managed to hold his attention for long. It wasn't that the idea of humanity transforming God's earth into a tortured hellscape didn't appeal to Azazel, he just didn't like the time frame. Why spend decades carefully cultivating ecological collapse when the nukes were ready to fly right now?
But while the cause of the benefit held no interest for him, those attending it did. They were the rich and the bored, those with more money and influence than they knew what to do with. People like these always made the best puppets clients. In one way or another, the connections he made in events such as this always turned out to be of some use.
Besides, if things got too dull he could always start a fire.