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[wayward_sun]

The Devil stumbles through the door and stops.

Then he runs a hand over his face before making his way to the fireplace where he sits down on the couch.
Heavily.

He is pale (dying, going to Hell, discovering that the most dangerous denizen has escaped from said Hell and returning to save the woman you - Chlo- to save Detective Decker, never mind that she was the one who actually fired the killing shot in the end, well that will do that to you) and when a wait rat stops by with a bottle of Scotch and a glass he accepts both gratefully.

It's been a day.
And he's scared.
Anyone sensible being would be.

(And the sensation of everything inside him just - stopping is still there).

Comments

[strongerthanyouknow]

Sara's got one of the other couches, but it's no surprise if he hadn't noticed her yet. She hasn't moved in long enough she's utterly forgotten about it. It's easier not to, but it doesn't mean she lets herself do it often near her crew. But they aren't here, so she hadn't stopped it. Just watching the odd hypnotic fish swimming in the fireplace.

The guy dropping hard into a nearby couch does make her gaze shift, if little else of her. She knows that look. The look of an exceedingly long day.


"You okay?"

[wayward_sun]

He looks at her, briefly startled.

A smile (smooth, practiced) flickers across his face, but doesn't really settle properly.

"Yes. Or -it's been a day, you know. With all the -"

He makes a vague gesture with his free hand as he drains his glass.

"Dying and whatnot."

He refills his glass.

He doesn't look well, exactly, but he doesn't look dead either.

He's a little disheveled, but the clothes are still expensive and the stubble game is on point.

He sounds posh. And more shaken than he might be willing to face.

[strongerthanyouknow]

Sara's eyebrows push up at the words.


"You do that a lot?" Asks the pot, who has rarely found a kettle.

Not thinking she's about to given all the cracks in that cover he's holding so tight to.
She is debating whether to politely sit up for this conversation she somehow decided to start.

[wayward_sun]

"What? Dying?"

He shakes his head.

"No. It was a first. I don't recommend it."

He empties his glass again with practiced ease.

[strongerthanyouknow]

She won't disagree with that.



"And yet, there you sit, so it doesn't look like it took."
Not that Sara's discounting the deep trauma that goes with either.

[wayward_sun]

"It turned out there was something I had to take care of instead."

His smile looks a little pale.

"So I went back." From Hell. And being dead.

[strongerthanyouknow]

Sara turns sideways, slides an arm free from under a pillow, and props the side of her chin on her fist, leaving her blonde hair to tumble over it, around her face, and her now freed back. Her expression is as dubious as it is skeptically curious. "Just like that?"

[old_monster]

"That drink any good?" Ye Baiyi asks, coming closer.

Life can be very shitty at times, even if you're an official of the underworld.

[wayward_sun]

"I like it," Lucifer replies. "I'd like it better if it worked as quickly it as well as it does on humans but -"

He shrugs.

"Want some?"

[old_monster]

"Yes, thank you very much," Ye Baiyi says. "There's something here that's called Atlantean which even affects fierce corpses. You might want to try that?"

[wayward_sun]

"Others have mentioned it," Lucifer says. Thoughtfully.

"Maybe I should give it a go."

[old_monster]

"Give me yours, and I'll buy you a bottle of Atlantean," Ye Baiyi offers.

[wayward_sun]

"You only live once. Or twice," Lucifer says weekly and hands the bottle over.

[sunbaked_baker]

At some point, there's a familiar face and a familiar plate of gigantic cinnamon rolls approaching the couch where Lucifer settled. The familiar cinnamon rolls are freshly iced, still steaming fragrantly with melted cinnamon-sugar. The familiar face... is concerned.

"Hey."

[wayward_sun]

He is still pale, but there's a bright flush in his cheeks, mostly due to the contents of the blue bottle.

Atlantean does work on celestial beings, but to his disappointment, it didn't really make any of the bad things go away. Not really. Although it did eliminate a good chunk of the edges. Closer to the middle, he is still reeling from the events of the past few hours. And at his core, he is terrified.

He blinks up at her. "Sunshine? Hi."

He doesn't sound as intoxicated as he looks, but that is obviously because he is being careful.

"Oh, you've baked."

[sunbaked_baker]

"You know me," she gives a faint quirk of a smile that doesn't last long. "'Fresh daily.'"

Sunshine settles beside him on the couch, setting the plate of cinnamon rolls on the coffee table. She settles carefully, for his state is worrying. Has something happened to his Detective?

"Can I ask what's happened?"

[wayward_sun]

He turns to look at her - and then he remembers, and carefully settles his gaze on the plate of baked years instead, as he says, "That whole thing with the Satanists? It got worse. They did think it was me."

He sways a little. That seems like something that happened years ago. Instead of hours.

[sunbaked_baker]

Sunshine grimaces, reaching to squeeze his hand. Her gaze remains somewhere to the right of his face, as close as she dares with him in this state.

"Oh Lucifer, I'm sorry." Rae had thought better of that detective, from how Lucifer described her. Apparently better than she deserved. "Why did they... what made them think that?"

[wayward_sun]

"There was this street preacher? Somebody had filmed me getting in his face and it was on the news? And then he got shot."

He shrugs and leans forward to - carefully - refill the small glass.

"So I thought, fuck that, you know? And then -"

He drinks, closing his eyes as thev warmth, briefly, spreads.

"And then Ananadiel showed up and it turned out it was all his fault, because he'd picked up a guy in Hell. To kill me. So he said he'd help out and that was - nice? Going into battle together, you know?"

He empties the small glass, breathing deeply.

"I'm so used to being on my own."

[space_puffin]

Puffy is pat-pat-pat-pat-pating away across the floor in his enteral quest for shiny objects and food. He stops in front of the devil and gives him a startled squawk.

[wayward_sun]

Lucifer starts and stares at the bird.

"What?" he says, just as startled.

[space_puffin]

From the little box attached to a collar around his neck, the question, "What you?" comes out.

[wayward_sun]

"It talks," Lucifer says to himself.

And then he says, "I'm not a what. My name's Lucifer."

[space_puffin]

"What you?" he repeats almost mockingly.

He tilts his head. "Puffy. Am Porg. What you?"

[wayward_sun]

Lucifer presses his lips together.

"Fine," he says. "I'm the Devil. A celestial being. An -"

There's a tiny pause.

"An angel."