The poor man looks haunted. Perfect. Evelynn leans over the bar top towards him with a sweet smile curling her red lips: “Tell me your woes, handsome.” And he does. He tells her of his brother, and a raw deal, and how he thinks he might be dead now but ain't sure... and the devil drinks deep. “It's alright, darlin',” she coos. “I've got you now.”

Epic