WF: "Ah, if it isn't Hell's Kitchen's favourite little devil. So we meet again. But I am ready for you this time."

DD: "Yeah, I got that by the fact that you captured me and tied me to this chair."

WF: "Hm? Oh, no, I don't mean that. Capturing you is merely emotionless skill. This... this is art."

DD: "WTF?"

WF: *clears throat and begins reciting* "Oh, to Heaven's little devil:
You must think that I am really evil
You're so determined to beat
My face into the street
Could we please get on the same level?"

DD: "What... what are you doing..."

WF: "Devil, you're breaking my heart
If you think crimefighting's an art."

DD: "Please stop."

WF: "I keep crime down low,
so you really should go
and mind your own business, you fart."

DD: "OH GOD, WHY."

WF: "Devil, Devil, please.
You are like a disease.
You're in my thoughts; I'm all in knots.
Can't you stop this? Geez."

DD: "MY EARS."

WF: "Devil, I implore you;
I don't want to bore you.
But you're in my way
So I pray—"

DD: "DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT POETRY IS."

WF: "—That somebody soon will gore you."

DD: "YOU HAVE LITERALLY NO SKILL."

WF: "So Devil, what do you think?
We're standing here at the brink
Of something so grand, so take a stand
I must demand to break your hand
And maybe your spine, or your skull, that's fine—"

DD: "You can't just change the pattern partway through like that!"

WF: "Devil, your sweet, husky voice—"

DD: "PLEASE KILL ME."