passimclamoribus

I wouldn't say that, sire. With the hotel surviving and Sinners now starting to consider the redemption angle more seriously, do you not think that the Overlords are going to be pleased?

[ A roll of his eyes. Short sighted indeed. ]

With a possibility of redemption and now someone willing to put their immortal soul on the life for them, that means souls no longer under their control. Vox is only getting a head start.

[ But he also doesn't really want anything to happen to the hotel. So there is that. Alastor doesn't want to actually play games with the safety of the hotel or those that actually live there. So yes. He will manage those threats. ]

I never thought you had much taste, so I can hardly be surprised that you can't wrap your itty bitty brain around it.

[ You know what? He honestly doesn't care about this Sinner any longer. Alastor already knows the little games the Vees play. So with a snap of his fingers, the tendrils yank and pull. Screaming and the popping of bones follow. It's a raw, wet tearing noise that fills the room as Alastor makes good on his promise to rip the Sinner limb from limb. ]

Ugh. [ He slumps down in his chair, not even trying to hide his pout. ] This is why I find it so hard to believe in you sinners like Charlie does.

[ Of course he believes in Charlie. She's better than him in every single way. But believing in anyone else, well. He'll do anything to support her, but he's still having trouble with that. The motley little crew at the hotel (excepting one demon currently in his company) is all well and good, but they're hardly the norm for Hell.

He's trying real damn hard to keep this new streak of motivation and looking on the bright side going for the exceptions. ]

There's still more than plenty of souls in Hell for you Overlords to squabble over. [ It's not like the overpopulation problem has gone away! Petty assholes. ] What does it matter if a few of them decide to try to get out of this crap hole? It's not like—

[ Whatever else he's going to say is interrupted by that abrupt drawing and quartering. Delicately, Lucifer wrinkles his nose and fishes a handkerchief out of thin air to wipe a spatter of blood off his face. ]

Yuck.

It would appear that you and I can agree on that much.

[ Who would have thought? But that's probably where it ends. If Lucifer doesn't understand the further reaching consequences of redemption and what it would mean for Overlords, well then that just shows how out of touch he is. Alastor really doesn't feel like explaining it.

After all, he could care less. the Radio Demon can always make more deals. It doesn't matter how small or large the deal is, after all. A soul might provide an exponential boost, but if that soul is gone then there goes that power. Smaller deals, like bribes or favor exchanges linger even should the soul leave. Sometimes it pays to play the long game.

Instead he enjoys his drink and the little show, giggling. The static in his voice is a little louder than usual - muffling the strain and the toll that all of this is taking on his body. ]

Well then! I suppose I have a few more errands to run before I turn in for the night.

[ He reaches out towards Lucifer before that bit of cloth can touch his face. A thumb swipes at the blood before Alastor's tongue cleans off the digit. ]

Hmm. That made it somewhat more palatable. That was a fellow I would not invite for dinner.

[ Lucifer freezes up, gaze fixed on the blood on Alastor's finger — on Alastor's mouth as he licks it off. It's startling enough that Lucifer almost forgets the big anomaly of the evening — almost. But just because Alastor's— ugh, complimenting how he'd taste, and there goes a whole host of thoughts Lucifer does not want to have floating around in his head, thanks very much! Anyway. It's not enough to distract him entirely.

Primly, he folds the handkerchief up and waves it away again. Looks over at the mess of gore decorating the room and back to Alastor. Alastor, who hasn't had more than a single lick of blood. ]

Dancing, but no dinner. [ Wry. ] Remind me not to buy into your idea of a date.

[ Is that a cannibalism joke? It sure is a cannibalism joke. ]

[ Alastor chuckles. Another snap of his fingers, and shadowy minions appear. Without even relaying instructions, they begin the process of cleaning up and uh. Taking away body parts. ]

Technically not a date! [ Reaching over and tapping on Lucifer's bowtie. ] Believe me, if I thought anyone worth my time, I would do nothing less than impress.

[ One moment, he is going to finish off that glass. This time when he breathes out, it's a little shaky. And wet. ]

[ Well, that's one way to get out of having to clean up the mess. Lucifer flicks a hand and sends a body part a bit too close to his shoes floating over to the nearest shadow — it happens to be the main shadow — and lets it deal with that bit of limb however the shadows are going to do it. He really doesn't need to know the details.

Especially when Alastor is touching his bowtie, rude! Lucifer immediately starts fussing over it, making sure Alastor hasn't made it crooked or something. ]

I really doubt you could impress—

[ He pauses mid-retort. Squints his eyes as he peers at Alastor. ]

Something's going on with you.

[ That was not the sound of a normal breath, even for someone as abnormal as Alastor. ]

[ He wishes that he would have had the foresight to actually, you know, fuss with that bowtie. Or do something, really. If Alastor had, then maybe Lucifer wouldn't have caught onto anything.

Eyes narrow. A smile grows tight. Alastor grabs at Lucifer's hand and sets the glass in it. ]

Correct! There is. Hunger.

[ Acknowledging that his injury is flaring up? Nope! Not happening. Instead he stands, straightening out his own suit and bowtie. ]

Which I should be taking care of!

Edited 2024-03-17 23:29 (UTC)

[ Lucifer stays seating for a moment longer, idly rolling the glass around in his hands. He's not going to drink it; it's to Alastor's taste, not his, but it is interesting how he can feel the lingering heat of Alastor's hand on it, had nearly felt burned from the touch of Alastor's skin. Much too much body heat, even for a sinner. ]

Guess you should. You know, you're awfully hungry lately.

[ Real neutral, but he hasn't loosened that stare, eyes fixed and evaluating. Far too hungry, now that he thinks about it. Alastor's eaten at Charlie's staff dinners, and there's no way Alastor should need to be eating other sinners as often as he has. It's not out of choice, not with how Alastor's reacted to the interruptions.

Something's wrong. ]

[ There's a slight static feedback from Alastor. His ears are perked upright and perfectly stock still. Even the fingers that he had been starting to grab his cane with have a slight, barely perceptible flinch before he takes it up and gives it a twirl. ]

No more than usual, I assure you. Why, I didn't realize you were paying so close attention to my eating habits! Are you preparing a surprise for little old me?

[ Deflection. Get Lucifer flustered and angry and maybe the conversation will be dropped. ]

[ That little moment of pause is all but confirmation. Not that he expected anything resembling a confession or a plea for aid. He's not gonna offer, either. Alastor wants his help? He can damn well swallow some of that pride and ask for it! That, or one of these days he'll stumble onto Alastor half dead in a ditch and go from there. No borrowing trouble before it shows up in some out of the way, unexpected place to interrupt Lucifer's walk, no sir!

He slides right into the bait with a sense of relief. ]

No! [ And the usual irritation. This fucking guy. ] Anyway, your eating habits should stop showing up when I'm just trying to have a nice day!

[ Yeah. That's what keeps happening. Nothing out of the ordinary with tonight and the guy Alastor honey trapped. ]

[ There it is. At least the attention is off of Alastor's non-existent existent injury. Or that something is wrong with him - which there is definitely not!

But he does roll his eyes and bend down towards Lucifer. ]

As you keep running into me, I can safely say that I was there first!

And who cares that you were there first when you're ruining my walks?!

[ He leans up to get into proper glaring-at-Alastor-from-up-close position. And pauses. It's hard to notice, but he has a seraph's eyes, and it doesn't escape him. A darker blot on the dark red of Alastor's shirt. There's no way Alastor would have let his victim of the night splash on him.

Forget being annoyed by Alastor's insistence on eating in inconvenient places, that's nothing. Inconsequential.

Lucifer slaps his hand against Alastor's chest; it comes away red with blood. ]

Since when are you interested in being out in public in the first -

[ Oh he hadn't been thinking about his shirt and whether or not blood could be seen. Not at all. But Lucifer gets him so worked up over nothing!

But all it takes is that slap. A hand smacking against the wound and the reaction is what one would expect. Loud radio feedback. Enough to shatter any nearby windows and crack screens. The lighting in the room flickers and Alastor is hacking, wet coughs.

There's a feral look about him when he looks back at Lucifer. ]

Ḓ̶̻̺͖̘̊́̃̓ǫ̴͍̫̠͍̘͒͆̋͜n̸̡̥̼͉̫̹̥͇̭̰̳̞̼̑̐'̶̡̛̪̥̯͔̋̓ť̵̙͕̗͇͙̊̒̏̄͘ ̷̛̺̩̪̙̗̻̮̖̍́̈͐͆̔̋̐͘̚͜ͅy̸̪̜͕̙̲̩̳͇̫̓̇̌̈́̐̉̏̀͝ò̵̢̢͔͍̞͉̘͓̠̺͜ư̵̗̲̍̇̔̎̍́̚͝͝ ̴͈̋̄̎̏͌̋͒̚f̵̨͎̭̭͉͕̬̃̈̀̀̈́̑͌́̔̿̚̕ͅu̷͔͒̓c̸̮̲͔͗̍̽̆̉͝ķ̷̣̮̻̲͚̖̪̀̀͊̈́ͅͅi̴̠͔̜̠̭͇̳̫͇͐̌̈̇͝n̸̨̝͉͉̥̑́̃͛̄̔͆̃̕̕͘͝ͅg̷̛̲̻̣̺̦͖̦͚̈́̊̚͘ ̴̘͖͍̆͒̏͒̈̈́̕̕t̴̜̘̞̥̞̀́̀́̊̔̀̽͗̄͑̓̈ơ̶̧̺̗̓̈́͆u̸̧̩͉̬̫̒͋͋̅̕͝ç̷̐h̴͈̤̭̤̠̤̰́̏͒̚͜ ̷̡͎̘͍͕̹̥̙̹̫̰͕́́͊ͅm̴̝̱͎̦̮̟͔̙̝̮͋̈̏̂͌̊́̍ė̸̮̃͒̿̒!̵̹̈́̈́͠

[ He winces, lifting his clean hand to his ear, and shakes his head to try to get the ringing to stop. Not exactly a pleasant reaction! Talk about a drama queen, sheesh. After he minor miracles his burst eardrums back to working order, Lucifer holds up his hand to the newly steadied light.

He waits politely for Alastor to stop hacking up a lung. ]

Huh. So that's what's going on.

T̴̩͖͕̲͇̲͙͎̺̠͂̀̀̃̉̑͠h̷̲̯̤͘e̸̛̙̲̰͉̙̝̮̪̹͓̙͍̖͌̅̇̈̓r̷̭͈͆͐͛̿̀̄́̊͝͠͝͠ë̸̢̪͚͍̤͓̹̣͈͚̲́ ̷̢̱̞̯̞͕͉͌̏̀́ȉ̷̩̩̞͖͉̺̞̗̺̺̊s̵̤̀͑͑͠͝ ̷̛͙̙͚̖͆̓͆͊̈͘n̷̡̼̦̯̆̃̾o̴͔̪͈̜̖̒͑̾ţ̴̨̟̺̦̗̩̩̭̙̗̑͝ͅḧ̶̛̞͍͇̲͎̘̺̎̈̽̈́̏͗̋̈́̕į̵̡̦̘̦̝͖̪͇̆̊̔̿́̑̿͑͐̎̚̚n̵͕̹͇͙̳̱̺͕͈̞̠̿̈́͒̐̽̐̄g̷͈̟̀̿̈́̀̀̂̋̇͝ ̶̢̡͕̤̣̙̮͙̬͘͝g̸̢̘̩̦͓͔̎ǒ̴̢̡̬̪̳̝̳͓́̇̒͗͊ͅi̵͙͕̮̲̝̯͈̬͋́̎̾̌͑̽̿̅̅̕͜n̷̨̘̤̩̙̝̼͛̾̆͊͗̓̃̕ͅg̴̢̢̛̦̀͐͋͑̈́̆̌̚̕ ̷̺̥͐̆̽̍̔̃ö̶̧̡͇̯̼͙́n̵̛̯̙̳̯͔̫͙͎̮̳̖̔̅͑̇̌́̂͊̆̚͜͠!̵̛̻̠͙̬͈͎̳̓̓́̉̏̚͝

[ Drama queen indeed. But now? Now this is worrying. His chest aches and in a way that makes his knees feel like they are going to give out at any second. But the worst part here is that Lucifer knows. No doubt Charlie had communicated that Alastor had, indeed, fought Adam. Logical conclusions leading to being injured and not quite in a proper state to remedy the situation...

But Alastor is now wheezing. That little outburst has all but guaranteed his wound opening up in full. And because he is so unsteady, Alastors shadows shiver. Shudder. Moving closer to Alastor himself.

The deer intends to run. ]

[ At that, Lucifer just raises an eyebrow. Uh huh. Nothing going on. A totally normal reaction to what was barely a hit. He's certainly treated Alastor to worse during their manhandling about the hotel. Not at all to do with fighting the head Exorcist, no, Alastor just likes to speak like this for every day occasions.

This guy. Unbelievable. ]

Of course, silly me, that's why you're dripping enough blood for a vampire.

[ He rolls his eyes. And notices how the shadows are shifting, how Alastor's bracing himself, readying to flee. This fucking guy. ]

Alastor. [ Sharply. ]

[ Thank everything unholy that everyone outside of the room will just think that Alastor got pissed and is torturing the poor soul in here further. And yet... None of them would come and bother him anyway.

But there is one person who is. One shitty, fucking fallen angel has to find out about this. Something he can most certainly use against Alastor - and probably will.

The sound of his name stops racing thoughts. Though it might be the first real time that Lucifer will witness a very real deer-like reaction; those ears perk up and over towards the sound of the King of Hell's voice. No words yet. Just feedback because right now?

Alastor feels a little cornered and he hates it. ]

[ Ugh. He never thought he'd get this treatment from Alastor of all people. Back talking, below the belt jabs, every opportunity to make him look bad in front of Charlie, yes — but not the whole freezing in place, not-so-proverbial deer in headlights because he's Lucifer, blah blah blah the great and powerful Morningstar, flashing neon danger signs or whatever the fuck is going through Alastor's head.

It sucks. Huh. Didn't figure he'd care so much about one little sinner demon not giving a shit about who he was.

He stays right where he is, doesn't move even an inch closer. Figures! Of course, why not! What a way to end the night! Even the room's dim mood lighting can't hide the sudden weariness that washes over Lucifer's face. Something that, for just a moment, looks awfully like disappointment.

A wave and he conjures something out of the air, lobs it over to Alastor. He waits just long enough to make sure Alastor catches it before he turns on his heel and vanishes in a sparkly puff of smoke.

The thing he tossed turns out to be a neatly wound roll of bandages. ]

[ He's waiting for it. The mocking. Laughing. Biting commentary. For Alastor there is nothing worse than the loss of his perfectly groomed image. Being seeing in a vulnerable and weak position is a big deal. He loathes it. Now it doesn't matter who is a witness to it, the reaction would be the same. The panic, preparing for the worst. Ready for someone to attack. Most demons would seize this opportunity and that is what Alastor is expecting - to be kicked while he is down and weakened.

But that doesn't happen. Nothing happens but Lucifer tossing him some bandages and looking as though he is the one wounded and not Alastor. One of his shadows ends up catching it, waiting for Alastor to return to himself. It takes a moment or two in order for it to actually register that Lucifer hadn't laughed. He hadn't said anything or done anything other than what? Offer Alastor something that will help the bleeding temporarily? It leaves him confused and shaken. He doesn't like not knowing...

So he just chalks it up to Lucifer waiting for the right moment. That's what anyone would do, right? Reveal this information when it is most opportune to do so? Instead, he pockets the bandages. Forces himself out onto the streets to satiate his ravenous appetite. One victim doesn't suffice. He slaughters half a dozen to feed on and to find release in. Oh Alastor is riding a high when he returns, enough so that even Husk is waving people away from him for the remainder of the night.

The roll of bandages ends up on his bookshelf. He uses the gauze and wrap that he has stowed away, but fixates on what Lucifer had provided instead. If Alastor doesn't use them then he doesn't owe Lucifer anything, correct?

Instead, over the course of the next few days, his confusion only grows. He doesn't sleep much, obsessing over those stupid bandages sitting on his bookshelf and the behavior he notes from Lucifer. Alastor waits for the fallen angel to say something, anything, about that night. Instead, Lucifer seems... Distracted? Disinterested? Hard to tell, but that also rubs Alastor the wrong way. No, he doesn't approach the subject even with their fizzled out banter ( something Alastor would hate to admit that he already misses ). Lucifer isn't using this information against him at all and it is maddening!

What is he doing!? What is he waiting for!? Is he just lording it over Alastor, waiting for him to lower his guard before exposing him!?

Those damn bandages are mocking him. ]

[ His injury still aches. Still burns and causes him too many limitations. No amount of raw meat and souls can speed up the process. It still causes him discomfort and Alastor doesn't stop trying to cover up the severity of it. The lack of sleeping doesn't help, not with how he paces while staring at that roll. Trying to figure out the fallen angels motives.

It's the fourth day after the incident that Alastor decides no more. He won't have control yanked away from him by sitting and just waiting to do damage control. No, the Radio Demon will simply confront the source of his ire and confusion.

That means ambushing Lucifer as soon as the elevator hits their shared floor. ]

It would appear that you and I are about to have a chat. [ His eyes narrow. ] Privately.

[ Alastor doesn't seek him out after that hot mess of a night, and Lucifer's fine with that. He is. Really! So what that it had almost seemed like a show put on just for him. Some kind of escalation in their... well, whatever the bickering and one upmanship and even sometimes weirdly cordial moments over vicious slaughter had been. So what if it'd seemed like Alastor wanted him to see how he could charm someone else — just to rub it in that he hates Lucifer, probably — or that there'd been a moment there, in the dark room of the club, where Lucifer almost felt—

Well. It doesn't matter what he felt because in the end, Alastor's just like every other sinner out there. He hasn't done a damn thing and Alastor still ended up scared. Ha! So what was all of it? Just some act until a moment of vulnerability, when he couldn't keep the facade up anymore? Not that any of it matters, of course! Lucifer hasn't been lying awake trying to puzzle it all out or anything, nope! No way. The less thought given to the Radio Demon — and god, what a stupid name that is — the better. He's here to help Charlie, not indulge Alastor in whatever twisted game he was playing, anyway!

And Alastor seems to be in agreement. Oh, there's the foul mood, but Lucifer doesn't pay any attention. That's none of his concern, and whatever Alastor's pissy about, he doesn't need to stick his nose in. See what happens when he does! Maybe his own mood's dipped a little, but so what! He's not taking it out on the rest of the staff or any of the guests.

So it's a surprise to find Alastor waiting for him as he steps out of the elevator. Lucifer pauses and gives him a look-over, eyebrow raised. (And if he can't help but be relieved that Alastor doesn't look nearly as bad as he did the other night at the club, well... That's just being a decent person, nothing else to it.) He brushes past Alastor, heading towards his room, tossing over his shoulder: ]

Are we? Because it appears to me that I'm going to bed.

[ It's a good thing that Alastor had taken the time to freshen up, hmm? At least he doesn't smell of blood and death. Now the wound itself? Well it is no better and no worse than before. It simply isn't healing.

Not surprising that Lucifer brushes him off. Alastor won't allow that one to happen. So he melts into the shadows. Reappears right in front of him, cane to Lucifer's chest. ]

Oh no no, Sire. I insist. You see, I have been reflecting the last couple of days and I've decided that since I cannot come to the answer myself then I simply should ask the source.

[ He stops. Looks Alastor in the eyes, then down to the cane. Wrinkles his nose and looks back up with a grimace. Ugh, what even is this? But fine, apparently he's not escaping whatever it is. With a roll of his eyes, he flicks his fingers, opening the door — and then uses his own cane to nudge back Alastor through it. ]

Oh, fine, let's get this over with.

[ Rude. So totally and completely rude. If the little king could have just accepted the conversation from the start. Or, you know, not engage with Alastor at all. But they are far passed that. He backs up into the room, turning on a heel and entering properly.

He is going to take a moment to look about the room. Back facing the literal King of Hell as he conjures up the bandages given to him by Lucifer. ]

What is it that you wanted in return? What do you want in exchange for your silence on the matter of a couple of nights ago?

[ Alastor turns his head to look at Lucifer from over his shoulder. ]

I can't understand what it is that is taking you so long to expose me.

[ While Alastor's busy looking around his room, Lucifer's occupying himself with tugging off his boots and removing his coat and hat, hanging everything up, and unbuttoning his sleeves. Whatever conversation this is, it's happening in his own space and he does intend to get to bed at some point tonight. No reason not to get comfortable for whatever insanity Alastor's insisting on.

And it is insanity. At the questions — it takes a little for him to understand what Alastor even means, only gets it when he turns to face him and sees the bandages in his hands — Lucifer stares, eye twitching just a little. Really? Is this really what couldn't wait for tomorrow and a cup of coffee?

Finally, Lucifer gives up on the brief attempt to understand this asshole and rolls his eyes, returning to the task of unbuttoning his waistcoat. ]

What would I possibly want for it?

[ And why would he want to expose Alastor. "Expose," air quotes very much intended, because the only people he might tell about that festering wound are people who'd try to help this fucking guy. But no, why would he say anything? Use it in their bickering? No, that's just kicking the guy when he's down. ]

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