16244/Poke. Poke. Poke...

Poke. Poke. Poke...
Date of Scene:	07 May 2024
Location:	5A 51st Floor, Four Freedoms Plaza
Synopsis:	Sinister shares the findings of some research where the numbers paint a different story. One that upsets Nick and Lucifer. Sometimes the truth hurts
Cast of Characters:	Phantasm (Drago), Sinister, Lucifer

---

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Sometimes things don't happen when one plans on it happening. Plans were made. The parties involved met up at place for the plans. And then other things came about to disrupt said plans with a side trip away from agreed upon location.

So now it's time to try again. Having returned from the quick side trip, they are now back to work. Although one's activities has changed a little.

The Manhattan apartment has been rented by Nick for awhile now. And yet, there are still bags unpacked and drawers that lack contents save for other bags.

Over at the Desk, sketch pencils and a sketch pad defy the odds and are currently unpacked while an open bag next to the desk has a few other sketchbooks peeking out of them. For the art supplies that have gained freedom, they are currently in use as the Nick seated at the desk is in the middle of working on a sketch. Based from the overall composition, it is of a person.

Sinister has posed:
Essex took a cheek swap and a hair strand. That was, in essence, all he needed. Oh, sure, there were vitals measured, just for the sake of it for Nick's benefit. It's always good to have a visual, right?

But he had what he needed, before the psychic scream disrupted plans. Now, visiting is a thing again, with some results that he may or may not share.

"I wouldn't have taken an interest in this, except I have a vested interest in the ascension of mankind. It's one of those things I think you and I share my love, but in slightly different ways of looking at it." Smiling wry to his partner, Sin stares at the door to the condo. "I don't think I'll ever get used to this place, other than the view. It's a shoebox." He clucks his tongue, softly. "Ah well. He should be well into the sketches... maybe you may know a method of inspiring?"

Knock knock.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer side eyes Nathaniel a moment, a little smirk turning up one corner of his lips. "Well for some things you have had your suspicions - well placed I will add. When it comes to the mutants... I sometimes wonder why you take such a special interest in some of them. How you feel these one or two people will help with such ascension..." He lifts a single shoulder in a shrug. "But either way, I am with you."

He does look the door over. "At least you said something before we walked in. Every time we visit I always tend to say something that offends Nick, regardless if I meant offense or not."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Nick didn't protest to the samples taken when they were taken. The process wasn't all that invasive, and Sinister asked. There was also the general curiousity built up about what made him- HIM and he got a feeling that if it was interesting enough, he might share what he found.

But that was before. And now, he's working on getting the nose in his mental image translated to paper.

Well he was. The mental image fades away as he looks over to the door.

It takes a few moments, the walk across the shoebo-err apartment, the checking of the peephole and the symphony of bolts and locks being undone. But the door opens eventually.

Nick gives a smile to the pair on the other side and moves over to grant them access through the doorway. "Come in."

Sinister has posed:
"I could explain that..." And then the door is opening, because really how long DOES It take? "Nick," the man is not the charmer that Lucifer is, but there's something to the way he can sometimes smile, in the light of his regard, that speaks of a man that once could've engaged a hundred bright minds in vigorous conversation into the wee hours of the night and gotten invites to the clubs, the parties and the research. Now-a-days, he looks at people with a penetrating look that often seems as if it's weighing thoughts before they're said, to see if they're even worthwhile hearing. But occasionally, like now? A little of the man he was, shows through.

ANd it was all in a name.

He holds the door open for Lucifer. "You two just have a knack of putting one another's feet in one another's mouths, respectively..." he's not wrong.

Swanning over to the view, he looks out over central park a long moment, then across the plane of his shoulder to the room overall and the men in it. "...there's resilience in genomes. Some have remained intact and relatively unchanged for millions of years. Some are exceptionally resistent to negative mutagenic effect. And some of my fascination and care, is also if the person makes the most of what they got." There's a wry look there. "Mitochondrial DNA is particularly strong in a few lines... yours included Nick. I've been able to trace your mitochondrial DNA back to the first caucus migration across Europe. Your mother's line is actually exceptionally celt, with a smattering of Pictish and a little bit of dane." He tilts his head, to the side. "Your father's a mongrel line, but it has markers from Turkiye, corsica, scicilly, rome, goth and tunis lines. They got around a bit, the Dragos."

Lucifer has posed:
"When was the last time I put my foot in my mouth?" Lucifer asks, feigning hurt at Nathaniel's words. He steps in and smiles to the other man. "Hello Nick, how are you?" Before further in and finding a seat somewhere in the shoebox-but-apartment for a moment. Then Nathaniel is saying a lot of words and he's hoping Nick understands those words because they seemed more directed at him. Lucifer was lost at the first mention of metro...mitro....the DNA bit. But fancier.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Nick blinks to the initial observation Sinister makes after addressing him. "I don't think I invited you in wrong..." Once the pair have made their way into the apartment, Nick shuts the door. And in a testament to the general trust in general safety at the moment. He only locks ONE lock.

Just in case some poor soul decided this was the time to try and test a stranger's door for easy opportunity, they would be discouraged from doing so. Anyone with a more focused attempt.

Well.

You reap what you sow.

Nick nods to Lucifer, "Well I'm doing ok. Just-"

Nick glances over to Sinister before continuing, "I'm almost done with the last sketch."

Stepping further in the room, Nick remains standing, glancing over to Lucifer once more before Sinister gives an explanation to what he found. "Huh." Nick comments, "...How did you use Mitochondiral DNA to trace the father's lineage? I thought that was only something the mother passes on."

...

What?

He reads a lot of detective stories. Forensics is a THING.

Sinister has posed:
"Well, there's a certain amount of DNA that stretches back to before we had males and females, Nick. There's a tiny fraction of mitochondrial DNA that is patrileal, just because one amoeba in a soup went that's not cricket!" Sin makes a what-ho kind of arm gesture, then in a more serious way, folds his arms more firmly, looking at the man. "But fundamentally, I was referencing that the bulk of your mitochondria, those tiny intracellular bodies that hold the oldest blueprints, are particularly pure. Your mother, if she was a pedigree, would've taken first prize several times. Your dad is a mutt." He chuckles, but sobers a bit, looking to Lucifer.

"Some of the markers in your genes though, are a little peculiar. How's the sketching going?"

Wait, what? Wind that back a bit.

Lucifer has posed:
Because he has proven time and again that nothing will happen to Nick or his apartment should he smoke - Lucifer pulls out that silver tin, takes out one cigarette and lights it. The silver tin, itself, has recently been upgraded with etchings on either side. One side - a raven. The other - a serpent. The smoke goes nowhere, not that it's encased in a bubble but it just...disappears...with no lingering scent if it ever was there.

"So he's half purebred, half mutt? Wouldn't that just make him a mutt?" He asks this, banking on the dog analogy. (Sorry Nick) Then looks between the two men. "What are we sketching, exactly?"

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Nick gives a blank look to the comment. "That's not... cricket?" He repeats. "...I think that's the first time I've heard that phrase. But...so okay It's not impossible."

Nick makes no effort to speak upon Lucifer's smoking. Instead he moves over to the desk to pick up the sketchbook. "Well I already knew about the Irish and Italian so I was under no assumption that I was purely one way." Nick replies. Glancing over to Lucifer, "Or we could just go with 'American'. After a few generations, there's likely something different in the gene pool."

He flips back a couple pages before moving over to Sinister, "I got two out of three finished. Just need to work on the nose for the third."

Sinister has posed:
A dry chuckle follows the bafflement at the 'just one damn macho moment' turn of englishism, but there's no comment. Instead he slides eyes to Lucifer and back to Nick.

"Well, there's that..." Sinister admits, taking a couple of steps to look fixedly at the images. "These were pulled from the mind of Anna-Marie. Anger and fear can make a few things exceptionally clarid. I suggested to her that we'd provide a cold glass of revenge in the form of names, aliases and actually real addresses, once the artist has rendered his pieces."

He looks up from the stare, TOWARD Lucifer again.

"Approximately ten generations makes a solid melting pot. And that's not accounting for cultural preferences - people do tend to stick to the relatively familiar, unless they were brought up to chase the exotic. We're a predictable beast."

Pause.

"You know, I was looking on your chromosomal structure for the residual chains, probably because I was expecting them to be there. The same region as Neanderthal -- by the by, you have that gene. Better immune system and a slight tendancy toward acute pain sensitivity." He sniffs. "I found something else instead. You have approximately one fiftieth of your blueprint that is inhuman, Nick."

Lucifer has posed:
"Ah. Tho I'm sure you won't need my help with anything, I'd be happy to provide any assistance I can procuring that information." Lucifer says this much before taking another drag off his cigarette. Ashes fall but they also disappear into nothing. He is sure to keep his promise not to leave any evidence that smoking occurs in this apartment.

As Nathaniel continues to expand on Nick's DNA test, an eyebrow is lofted upwards before his head tilts. "Well... is that surprising that he'd be inhuman..." Asking this a bit carefully. "He is - in some part - a descendent of a nephilim line..."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Nick nods, taking the sketchbook back to flip back to the incomplete sketch. "I should have the nose done in a bit." He assures, moving back to the desk to set it back down. A hand rests upon the desk chair, sliding it back out. He pauses as Sinister moves back to the findings. But as Sinister mentions the portion that is inhuman, the hand lifts off the seatback. "..."That's two percent."

That seems too high.

He looks over to the doctor. "That doesn't make sense unless there's more than one factor. And if it was just one factor that would put it between ..."

He pauses for a moment. looking down to his upturned hand, fingers curled in. His other fingers tapping along each knuckle til he gets to the thumb.

One. Two. Four. Eight. Sixteen.

There's a pause before he brings it back to his pinkie, and then to his ring finger.

Thirty two. Sixty Four.

The hand rolls back to the pinkie.

Thirty-Two 6th knuckle. First position doesn't count in this case... Back up.

"Between 5th and 6th generation. So...at least two factors-"

But then again. His father's side apparently did get around ... a lot.

"But-"

Nick gives a puzzled look. "...Is it more than one type of not human? How many?"

Sinister has posed:
Sinister's gaze shifts briefly over to Lucifer, then down to his feet very brief and back to Nick. It's all about that shape of eye, when there's no recognizable pupil in the red glow. "You did the math right, Nick. And no, the line is pure, in that it seems to be genetically cohesive."

He sighs. "That's the renaissance. Not the Roman empire."

He looks at Lucifer again then, sighs softly. "He's an abject liar, my love. I'm..." another sigh.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer blinks. Then he looks upwards to the ceiling, narrowing his eyes a moment before lowering his head to look forward again with another blink. Mouth opening to say something, but nothing comes out so it closes again and he takes another drag off his cigarette. It would seem the Devil is contemplating, thinking, shifting through memories and conversations had.

When things begin to be even slightly out of place, he shakes his head.

Eyes shift to Nathaniel. "You're what?" Is all he asks, then he glances back to Nick before there's a huff and another hit. His brain is working overtime for the moment, likely inwardly trying to fit pieces together that are beginning to re-shape in real time under the mental microscope.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Having the math confirmed, Nick grows quiet, looking blankly forward.

Well. Quiet is a bit generous. There's plenty thought.

Why?

What difference would it make if it was Roman times or the Renaissance? Why lie about it?

Did he even know WHEN he got together with someone?

Could it be Nick asked a question Michael couldn't really answer so he made it up?

Sinister has posed:
Sinister's gaze settles on Lucifer again. "I'm sorry he's been deceiving you. Because he -has- Luci."

There's a moment, very fleeting, when there's a golden glimmer in the depths of Sin's red gaze and a brief catch-of-the-light in the same hue that ripples over his hair. But for a moment, then it's gone.

"I've studied your genomes, Lucifer. They're exceptionally hard to pin down or examine, they don't /want/ to be fiddled with. I've already told you that...."

Sin looks at Nick, shakes his head a bit. "I don't know, Nick. But... it's not Michael you descend from. If it was, the markers would be identical to..." he gestures open palmed to the devil. "They're inhuman and from what I could determine, they're celestial. But they're not Seraphim."

Lucifer has posed:
The devil's overall appearance doesn't change. There may be the very brief moment of a twitch of something - but you'd have to be all eyes on him to catch it. While the Devil cannot lie - that does not mean he cannot mask. And masking is something the Devil does very, very well.

"Ah. Well. It was a good idea while it lasted wasn't it? And technically...all angels are..." He uses his hands to signal quotation marks as he says, "related. So... it may be a more distant relation when thought but..." There's a shrug here as his voice trails off.

The cigarette he was enjoying is crushed into nothing but dust that goes nowhere but the aether. He holds a smile on his face. "You should probably finish that nose up so you all can finish helping your friend with what she's going through. I might just leave you both to it and head back to the club. Paperwork won't write itself up you know..."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Nick blinks, turning to face the desk as the bad news keeps coming in.

More lies.

Why?

Is he not allowed to be-

There's deathly silence that comes from his corner of the apartment as he stares blankly forward. Thinking perhaps. But not sharing as the jaw clenches and the left hand follows suit, pressing nails into the palms.

Lucifer's reminder to finish the drawing isn't ignored. As a soft "right..." is uttered.

The right hand tugs the chair partly, allowing for him to sit down. Without a word more, he picks up the pencil and stares to the unfinished sketch.

Sinister has posed:
"Lucifer," it's a single word, a name, but it's said with truth in it. The love being voiced there is real and all in a name. Well, if the Kindly Nosferatu of Auschewitz was going to love anyone, he definitely picked right, right? But it's never that simple and nor is this.

And there's Nick. Damn that was a double whammy. But there's a gesture between the two of them. "You're still kin. Still family. Nothing has changed -there-... all that..." -- he winces then, looking mentally singed for a moment and stiffens as his wings briefly emerge and mantle, the gold fringe to them pronounced.

"Oh, you can fuck RIGHT off...." he practically growls that, shoulders jerking back to contain them again.

INhale, exhale. Calm. Zen. "They're on the hunt." He says this quietly. But there's a single point. Upward. "/Someone/ is getting it in the neck. And for crying out loud, I am -nobody's- messenger boy. That's the one and -only- time I tolerate that kind of gargantuan headache, even if you DID help me out."

Lucifer has posed:
"I was trying to imply such. Not only that, but family never has to be by blood. Regardless of the connection...how drifted it may be now that the truth is...coming out." He glances when Nathaniel's wings pop out and the man is turned into a messenger boy for a moment. That causes Lucifer to growl a bit. As if to imply that if Nathaniel doesn't have at them next time, he WILL.

"Nick. Regardless of anything...I have considered you a part of this family for a while now. For many reasons. The blood ties mean nothing to that affect as you are family regardless." Trying to maintain at least that before he eyes the door. When the Devil gets into a certain mindspace even his own Penthouse can feel -cramped- because he simply needs to be out for a while. But he stays put for a lingering moment. Perhaps even trying to push back the things in his head so he can continue to be present here and now.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Nick is seated. He's looking to the drawing that he needs to finish and yet- as he blinks at it, the actual step of picking up the pencil doesn't seem to register to the musician. Nor does it seem he's really focusing on the conversation...until there's a visible wince to the obscenity ladden sentence uttered by Sinister.

It generally seems like most of the words being spoken to him after that just don't reach his ears.

Listen.

LISTEN!

Nick blinks as Lucifer's voice starts to register again.

Still family.

...

The right hand reaches forward, pushing the sketchpad furrther away from him. Keeping the incoming dampness of the paper to just the undrawn edge.

The palm of his hand comes up, rupbbing at his eyes. "...thank you."

Sinister has posed:
Sinister nods to Lucifer, because there's a measure of similar sentiment that needs to be shared. And my lords and loves, he's also watching both men with a /measure/ of hesitation, too. In one fell swoop, after all, he pulled the rug out from -both- of them.

Damn you. Although it may be a lot too late for that.

A deep inhale is taken and with a soft 'fwipt' the raven burned by the sun and still burning to this day... shows his wings again. He doesn't actually say anything further, just quietly approaches with them out.

They attempt to enfold. The might knock something off the surfaces of the shoebox, but he's trying.

Lucifer has posed:
That mask begins to crack as Lucifer feels that wingtip begin to touch him. He knows Nathaniel means well, but so much in his mind is reeling and whirling. He doesn't want comfort right now. THinking that holding onto the pain, the anger, will fuel what he needs to do. Yet he also wants to ensure that Nick is okay. Such a conundrum of life.

Still, he moves away from the wingtip and motions. "You take care of him." Saying this while looking to Nathaniel, motioning to Nick. Then, without anything further, he disappears in a flash of hellfire and sulfur.