"Demons?" That caught Thomas' attention and he arched a dark eyebrow at the man's comment. "Those come in a lot of flavors from what I hear." He had many choices of face to wear among these unknown people, but he decided to go with one that fit the most, and with which he'd had the most experience: the flippant, slightly slow, playboy. He was aware Eliot might not have missed his slip, but if he was used to demons, he might not think much of it, either.

Besides, he was the guy slinging around magic to light a cigarette when lighters were a thing. His lip curled in a smile as he took the offered seat. "I work in a salon and we serve it. I drink a lot of coffee."