Their squabble had caused the ship to sneak up on them.
Through a loudspeaker, a scratchy voice boomed over the water. "Identify yourselves!"
The voice was coming from the man standing at the helm with a line of gun barrels pointed at the pair.
"What are you?" He proudly displayed the scar running down his nose. "What flag do you fly?"
Lucifer clicked his tongue. "Yeah, yeah, shut up."
Within that single sentence, the ship was split into two, disintegrating the commanding officer along with it.
His scar now freshly opened, he sank to the depths of the ocean—a fresh meal for the sharks lurking underneath.
"You need to be more thoughtful, young man," said Satan, staring into the dead eyes of the sinking man. "It's bad manners to hold a group of friends going to movies."
He scratched his goatee.
"Sorry to leave you like this. We can't be late today, you see. My favorite actor has a film being shown soon. It's been more than half a decade since I last watched a film of his."
