IMDb flu straggler

[i_am_your_host]

The last thing Dr. Dylan Reinhart remembers, at least vaguely so, is going to his room to sleep off an oncoming cold.

When he wakes up, he feels worse. Ugh.

Groggy and miserable, he changes out of his pajamas and into the tailored suit that's been laid out. Shirt, tie, sweater vest. None of the patterns or colors match, but oddly enough he makes it work in an elegantly offbeat way. Italian leather oxfords round out the ensemble.

He comes downstairs into the main bar, adjusting his pocket handkerchief (he has a feeling he'll be needing it as the sniffles, sneezing, and coughing persist). After ordering some tea and chicken soup, he tucks a cloth napkin into the collar of his vest, and settles down to eat.

As demure as he is, as engrossed in his meal as he is, and even as ill as he is, he still keeps his wits about him, observing who is in the room and where, the exits and windows (including the really Big Window). He can't exactly recall why he's like this. His memory is rather muddled at the moment. Which is annoying. And it's making him feel more ill than necessary.

[OOC: Have Emcee thinking he's Dylan Reinhart from Instinct.]

Comments

[i_am_your_host]

"What- what no shhhh-" he gasps and sputters, cutting him off and trying to shush him. "I would greatly appreciate it if you lowered your voice if you're going to talk about my testicles in public! About which, by the way, you shouldn't even know anything, unless we- we--"

He trails off a little helplessly.

"This isn't fair. Why don't I know anything about you??"

[wayward_sun]

Lucifer cants his head. "I don't know," he says. "People don't tend to do that. Because - well, I'm me."

It's really quite vexing.

[i_am_your_host]

"Because you're you, of course," he humors him, allowing himself a small smirk. Narcissist, to be sure, but there's something...extremely charming about him. As if his narcissism could almost be excused.

"Well, tell me about you, then, Mr. Morningstar. Maybe it'll jog my memory."

Mr. Morningstar

The name sort of...clings to his tongue.

[wayward_sun]

"Of course. Good thinking."

And excellent subject matter.

"Well, I'm the Devil. I decided that it had enough of Hell a while back, told Dear Old Dad to.look after it himself, and relocated to L.A. cut off my wings, bought myself a nightclub."

He smiles.

[i_am_your_host]

His eyes grow wide, his brows drawing together.

"That's..."

He leans toward Lucifer slightly, inexplicably drawn to him.

"...truly fascinating!" he says, the American accent still intact. "Self-mutilation to spite your father in a clear case of attention-seeking rebelliousness. And now you live in Los Angeles, city of angels. Brilliant symbolism!"

[wayward_sun]

Lucifer lifts an eyebrow.

"It's not," he says. "Symbolic. Or a city of angels by the way. And isn't that a relief."

[i_am_your_host]

"Ironic, isn't it?" he remarks. "A city named after angels synonymous with pleasure and entertainment and materialism, teeming with vapidity and vice, a veritable modern-day Babylon. It's no wonder you settled there, you must love it!"

[wayward_sun]

"I do, actually," Lucifer says, a little wary of this sudden interest in symbolism.
"I like the beaches."

[i_am_your_host]

"The beaches? I can't imagine that's all you like about L.A.," he says with a grin.

[wayward_sun]

"Well, no. Obviously. I just - happen to like them too."

Sounding almost a little defensive.

[i_am_your_host]

After a second or two, he draws back, shaking his head a little. "I apologize if I'm being too inquisitive. I teach psychology, you see, with a focus on abnormal and psychopathic behavior, so it's not often that I'm face to face with the Devil and get to ask him questions."

[wayward_sun]

Lucifer looks at him.

He is quite a fascinating subject, he'll give Emcee with the sudden alternate personality that.

"It's okay. I get that occasionally. Mostly here though."

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee/Dylan tips his head in a curious bird kind of way.

"Why do you think so? Don't people in your world find you interesting on a level that isn't carnal?"

[wayward_sun]

"Yes. Of course they do."

Right?

He's got - depth.
Depths.

"They just don't- believe I'm the Devil. Even when I tell them."

A pause.

"I have to show them. And I'd rather not."

[i_am_your_host]

"And you'd rather not because...?" he asks, prompting him to go on, genuinely fascinated.

[wayward_sun]

"Because seeing my face tends to drive people mad."

Literally.

[i_am_your_host]

The crease between his brows deepens. The Devil doesn't want to cause harm to others?

"Huh!" he muses for a moment.

"So... This-- Emcee fellow you speak of. You've never shown him your true face?"

[wayward_sun]

He shakes his head.

"No. Just this one."

[i_am_your_host]

"You don't think he could handle it?"

[wayward_sun]

"No."
He shakes his head.

"You can't. Humans."

[i_am_your_host]

"Try me."

It's what Dylan would say. Is it an actual dare? Is it a bluff? Risk-taker, thrill-seeker that he is, never one to pass up a challenge that might even threaten his life. That side of him still exists--he's seen and done a lot in the CIA, and that sort of thing never really goes away.

[wayward_sun]

Lucifer looks at him.

"You'd go insane," he says, flatly.
"So no. But I can -"

He leans in -

"- show you this."


It starts as a faint, red glow round the ring of his iris and in the corner of his eyes.

[i_am_your_host]

He's about to egg Lucifer on when the dare gets stuck in his throat. Lucifer's eyes glow like embers, unholy and un-human, and he gasps, abruptly pulling back. His head starts to swim and suddenly nauseated he grasps the edge of the bar to keep from sliding off the stool.

"Scheiße..."

[wayward_sun]

"It's mental hiccups," Lucifer says, delightedly, as the red glow dies.

"You just needed a 'boo."

[i_am_your_host]

"Mental...what...?" Emcee whimpers before a coughing fit hits him. He is aware of Lucifer, but now it's like wading through a messy soup of memories that aren't his own. Gulping down a mouthful of tea, he clutches at the Windsor knot at his throat.

"Oh, no, it's happened again."