Harold set off after the demon, marvelling how his friend appeared to be walking up the stairs but, if he watched closely, the movement of his legs didn't actually match the stairs they ascended. It was as if he was continually teleporting to the space in front of him without taking any notice of the space he was in. But that was impossible. If demons could teleport, he'd know about it. He's seen both Jasfoup and the imps use portals enough times to know how naturally they moved from one location to another. Perhaps it was because he was looking at his phone as he moved.
He put on a burst of speed to catch up. “Are your legs all right?”
“My legs?” He looked down and immediately his steps became synced with the stairs. “They're just dandy, thank you. Why?”
“It looked like they were out of sync with the stairs, like they were a film being projected instead of real.”
“Are you accusing me of being two-dimensional?” He laughed. “Honestly, Harold. They things you come up with. I'd love to be inside your head sometimes. I swear you could write science fiction.” He pointed at the lights embedded in the walls. “The combination of fluorescent lights and lack of sleep is making you brain misinterpret the signals from your eyeballs, that's all. The flicking images of le démon ascendant un escalier has scrambled your brain into thinking my legs don't match. Be grateful it's nothing more serious. At least you don't see polka dots.”
“Never mind my butt. We're here, look. This is the door they went through.” He pointed to a sign: Level Four. Research.