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There's a golden-haired elf lounging on the couch tonight, his hair braided and decorated with a veritable crown of flowers.

There's a tiny little elfling lass that Glorfindel would never say no to, and today she was intent on decorating his hair.

He can't have minded the additions that much, because they're still firmly in place as he idly picks out a winding, aimless tune on his harp.

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Ugh.
Harp.

Lucifer's face is an open book at times. As is, in fact, all of him.

A well-groomed, human-presenting book with expensive clothes, fancy cologne, and a presence much bigger than his body.

The harpist is good-looking though. On the hippyish side with the flower crown but he is not one to diss dressing up.

Edited 2019-08-14 05:36 (UTC)

Glorfindel is unbothered by the scorn of... well. Glorfindel has no idea what this sort of creature is, other than it wants to look like a human to most. But still, unbothered - if it does not want to be near harp music, it can take itself somewhere else. He got to the couch first.

He's nothing if not something of a territorial creature.

But it's the best place in the whole Bar!

Having to endure harp music isn't fair!

!!

The need for comfort wins and he flops down, willing to be friendly, despite the unfortunate choice of instrument.

"So-" he says, "do you play other instruments as well?"

Edited 2019-08-14 11:13 (UTC)

"At the moment, or in general?" Glorfindel asks in return, idly re-working one section of the song he'd been playing.

Lucifer flashes him a smile.

It's a tremendously bright smile.

"In general. And as an alternative."

It is - and tremendously full of teeth. Glorfindel is placid in the face of it, his fingers pulling a rippling tune into existence.

"Why would I need an alternative?" He asks in all innocence.

"Because variety is the spice of life?" Lucifer suggests.

"You could pick something more portable? That doesn't need tuning. Tuning, such a pain. I play the piano myself and that's just the same."

"You would have my alternate for this instrument, which is portable but needs tuning, to be something that... is not portable, and needs tuning?" Glorfindel asks slowly, not entirely sure where the stranger is going with this.

"No, no. Something that doesn't need tuning, so not a piano."

He chuckles.

"Well, you must have some suggestions, since you suggested it... don't you?" Glorfindel asks, while showing absolutely no signs that he has any intention of abandoning the harp. He likes the harp, he's had a very long time to become proficient in it.

"A flute perhaps? Or - if you're really keen on the whole tuning thing - a guitar!"

His smile turns even more bright.
"It'd go well with the flowers. And it's a versatile instrument."

"The harp seems to go well with the flowers, and it is here - the other things are not." Glorfindel points out, with absolutely no effort being put in to getting those other things.

"Ah. But we could get you on. I can show you the basics. You'd be playing in no time," Lucifer says, a little too quickly perhaps.

If it will stop the harp from being in play as it were he'll even go and get a guitar from bar.

"I am playing already." Glorfindel replies placidly, "And have been for some time. I see little reason to stop now just to do another thing poorly."

Desperate times, desperate measures.

"Look, I - harps are - I really don't like harps. No complaints about your skills, you understand. Your good. Add in, really good, but -"

He looks at him, pleadingly.

"How dreadful for you." Glorfindel acknowledges. And then fails, really, to do much else about it because... well.

He was here first. And there's a whole other rest of the bar to be in, if it's really such a trial.

Right.
He regroups.

"I could buy you a drink? What would you like?"

You can't play with a glass in one hand.

"I have already had one - perhaps later." Glorfindel declines with a smile - that was a fairly obvious move, after all.

"Drugs?"

It's worth a try.

"Sex?"

Glorfindel waits for an elaboration. When he doesn't get one, he asks, very politely:

"I'm sorry, did you have questions about their use?"

He did not expect that answer. It lures a laugh out of him and he shakes his head.

"No. I was offering."

Edited 2019-08-17 20:35 (UTC)

"Indeed? If you are bored, I have heard there is a library upstairs of some consequence." Glorfindel notes, thoughtfully.

"I don't really do libraries,"Lucifer replies, breezily.

"I'm more a nightclub sort of person."

"Then you do appear to be in the wrong sort of place." Glorfindel agrees. He's never been to a nightclub himself, but he has heard of them through others.

"I like to think that I'm bringing the party with me wherever I go."

He smiles.
Brightly.

"Even to the library. Dad forbid."

The harp, she doesn't mind. It's not the most pleasant noise, but it's far from the most unpleasant she's heard.

The flowers in his hair, however, are worth notice: from the chair at the far end of the couch, she cocks her head and watches him before slowly lifting the flower crown up and floating it over. She wants to see it better.

Pardon her.

"Thievery isn't usually a means of introduction." Glorfindel notes wryly, not pausing in his playing, "Though I suppose you could claim you were attempting originality."

"It isn't if I'm going to return it," she says. The fact that she has made no mention of this, and that he was not aware of this fact, is inconsequential.

"I wanted a better look." So now here it is in her hands, delicate fingertips cradling the blossoms so as not to crush them. She finds it very pretty, really. It suits him, though he is not what she would define as masculine. That, too, is inconsequential: she knows very well that it does not take masculinity to equal danger.

It may be inconsequential to her, but to others... well.

Glorfindel hums, a flat note encompassing several millennia of considering humans to be a very odd sort altogether, and turns his focus back on his music.

She glances at his face, and for a moment her expression relaxes as if she has stopped concentrating on something. He may notice this only because there is very likely the sensation of curiosity now in his mind, as if of a cat rubbing against his ankles.

It certainly hurts far less than it could.

She has no reason to harm him. "What song are you playing?"

Very abruptly, she is shut out - the cat locked out of the house, and the curtains drawn. He may have no natural talents for projection, but he's learned a thing or two over the course of a long lifetime.

He arches an elegant eyebrow at her, disapprovingly.

Visibly she jerks back, now very alert and studying him. She's never had that done before, no one has ever shut her out.

The flower crown, the moment she jerked, is levitating above her hands. She is still staring at him.

"How did you do that?"

"Suffice it to say I did." Glorfindel replies, shortly, his focus returning to his music.

"I've never met someone who could do that," she says quietly, flexing her fingers and making the flower crown rearrange itself in his hair, exactly as it was. Anyone who had not seen her move it likely wouldn't know it had been removed.

"Will you tell me how it works?"

"No, I shall not." Glorfindel notes wryly - one does not explain ones defenses to an invader, after all.

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