milliways_bar | (no subject)

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In the bar, an angel is moving.

He might have been sitting, still as a statue and pale as one, in the corner.

Or he might have come in by the door.

Xas has learned to blend, after so long a time wingless.

He stops by the bar, laying one hand on the surface lightly, almost wonderingly. And then he orders a glass of wine, white, and tasting delicately of fruit.

And then he finds an empty booth and sits, sipping his drink lazily and watching the people go by.

Xas has made quite a study of them, over the years, after all. Humans, that is. Possibly it's time for him to broaden his horizons.

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Lucifer puts down the cup, holding Xas' gaze.

Almost half a minute goes by.

"Because the current one is such a success," he says finally. His voice is like the wine he sometimes drinks; smooth, with bitterness dancing on the edge of the tongue. Xas would know the taste.

Xas blinks, eyes gone wide again.

"He didn't make this one. Or at least I do not think he did."

"Ah." A strange smile. "I will be interested to hear your evidence, but if you are right...your reality is a different one indeed."

Xas just watches him, half wary, half amused.

"God makes copies, and only copies. Is that not proof enough?"

Lucifer's fingers dance edgily on the table - tapping, not tapping, tapping, not tapping.

"Platonic philosophy from one such as you is...interesting. Which are the originals, then?"

Xas stills, then, though his eyes never leave Lucifer's face.

"I wouldn't know. That wasn't one of the questions I asked Him."

"He is not overfond of those who ask the difficult questions."

The tapping falls into a slow rhythm.

Xas leans back in his chair, very carefully. He can feel the press of the chair against his back. It is, after so long, not unpleasant.

"No. But he likes difficult answers."

There is no bitterness here. None.

"Difficult? I find that in the end there is one answer, and that quite easy: He works as He wishes, and there is an end to it."

Bitterness here, certainly, creeping in at the sides. Lucifer has not dealt lightly with Raguel's revelations.

"Sometimes he is subtle."

Xas does not sound like he appreciates this. Not at all.

"And sometimes he is obvious," Lucifer returns, lashing out.

He doesn't sound like he appreciates this.

Xas takes a sip of his wine, very carefully. The glass does not tremble.

"You should know. He gave me this face for a reason, after all."

And now the glass does tremble, and a thin rivulet of wine spills over his lip. He swipes it away with his tongue.

Lucifer's cup, almost empty and set on the table, does not tremble. It breaks. A quick sharp noise followed by the trickle of coffee across the wood.

"What?" Very, very soft.

"God does answer questions."

Xas' voice is casual, but his expression is anything but.

"He answered mine. I'm one of his copies, you see? Made before the original, so you would be distracted from your purpose. He needed an edge."

He laughs. It's empty.

"Consider me thoroughly distracted.

Which original do you mean?"

Xas watches him, unflinching.

"Christ. I was made first, but the idea was in place long before."

He sets the wineglass down, no longer trembling.

"It was to give him the advantage of surprise, in the desert."

"Christ?"

There's a hand across Lucifer's mouth. He might not even be aware it's there.

"Not in my version. I don't think I could..."

He pauses.

"You couldn't?"

Confusion clouds his eyes again.

"I don't--"

A breath.

"You wanted to kill me, when you knew."

"I couldn't have -"

The confusion (anger) twists and hovers between them, an uneasy bond. Lucifer closes his eyes briefly.

"I might have killed him, had that been the case in my reality."

Xas' voice is quiet.

"He knows what he is about, right enough, and he uses us all."

And then, even more softly.

"I believed He loved me."

Just as quietly -

"I have no doubt He did. Maybe even does. But love and fair treatment are a far cry apart in the eyes of the Throne."

There is another long moment of silence, and then Xas speaks.

"You're right. But then you usually are."

He doesn't manage a smile, but the tension in his frame relaxes, just a little.

One finger still circles the rim of his wineglass.

He laughs; softly, freely, for the first time in Xas' hearing.

"An unpopular opinion, but I thank you for it."

More tension leaks out of him, and Xas smiles.

"You're welcome to it, truthfully. I've become more resigned than I would prefer, but not to everything."

"Oh?"

He's thinking about the wings. Easy connections aside, they're still talking at an odd kind of cross-purposes.