"Heh, amateurs." The voice isn't from a would-be victim -- Angel's gotten savvy to the bot's games, and is pretty over it now. He's been perched on a bench nearby, all lanky legs and multiple arms and fluffy cute creepiness, watching the sex bots wander around and spout lines at thin air. When they catch their prey, Angel doesn't intervene -- their own damn fault for getting in trouble, dumbasses -- just watches and chuckles.

But finally someone with some sense. The very tall (pushing eight feet with the boots) spider demon flashes a grin of pointy, terrifying teeth, waving a gloved hand. "C'mere, toots, nice to see some'a you living have some sense."