10249/Stories of Demons

Stories of Demons
Date of Scene:	29 November 2019
Location:	In Travel, New York City
Synopsis:	Lucifer reveals his wings to Felicia. She's cool with it. Mostly.
Cast of Characters:	Lucifer, Black Cat

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Lucifer has posed:
Once Felicia's purchases are safely put away into the trunk, Lucifer stretches his back a little, looking around, and pauses. They'd been chatting about other minor things, spells and magic, for the whole ride to the shop.

"By the way," Lucifer says, pleasant in tone, pleased with himself. "The demons in Gotham have been taken care of. Well. Except for the ones that are working for me in Lux, but we don't count those as ones that need to be corrected," Lucifer says, wandering back around to his door to return to the drivers' seat.

Black Cat has posed:
Felicia's heels click-click as she walks around from the end of the car. Dressed warmly against the late-November chill in her shin-length trenchcoat, she lifts eyebrows in blatant curiosity at the club owner across the hood of the car.

"That's great news. God, I remember dealing with just one of them. I can't imagine it was easy," she replies as she slips into the glossy fancy car, gloved hands pulling the door shut with care. One must be nice to the nice vehicles. She clicks her seatbelt into place and shoulders into the comfortably-molded passenger seat with a content sigh.

Now she has the elements to summon a unicorn! What can go wrong?!

"So did you end up roping in those crazy Bat-people? I remember the two of them at the warehouse party -- which was nuts. Didn't they take somebody captive there? The Bat-people, I mean," the Cat clarifies with a glance over at Lucifer.

Lucifer has posed:
"No need to reference Him, he certainly did not lift even one finger to help us with any of it," Lucifer reminds Felicia when she brings up God. He rarely (maybe never) misses a reference, and he's not about to miss it now.

"For the most part, actually, the minions of Batman did a great deal of work: to find them, and keep them busy enough to where their leader showed her face. They tagged her with a paintball," Lucifer says, as if he were charmed by the very idea of it.

"Interestingly, they found me, after they'd seen us at the warehouse extravaganza. I think the boy liked you. I did not give over your number," Lucifer teases her. "Although I could if you'd like - but I think the whole demon ordeal may have left him a little unstable."

Lucifer glances out the front window, some of his sunshine dulling with that statement. Lucifer had something to do with that, and he's not proud of it.

Black Cat has posed:
"A paintball," comes the thoughtful echo. The platinum-blonde nods to herself -- a clever idea. She glances away from the passing city of New York beyond the car window and back at Lucifer when he mentions the phone number.

"Well, hey, appreciate you keeping the ring in mind. I know people are jealous of it, but I'd hate to break hearts." Her grin is pleased, though it does sober as she watches the shadow cross over the driver's face. She looks briefly at the air controls and turns the cooler jet towards herself, comfortable to stay within her coat regardless.

"I'm sorry to hear it left people in the lurch. I mean...I'm here to listen if you want to talk about it." She doesn't reach to patpat at his hand, but the insinuation is there. She clearly considers the Devil a friend at this point.

Lucifer has posed:
"Yes. Seeing as one of the others was casting a spell to keep the demon from leaping into a new corpse to puppet, it was very effective to tag the primary target for me," Lucifer agrees, flicking his dark gaze over to watch her with the air conditioning controls.

"I /would/ like to talk about it, then," Lucifer says, brightening up. She offered, and he does not have the shame to question if she'd only been saying it to be nice. Now she gets to hear about it.

"A few dozen corpses, possessed by demons that enjoy inflicting pain, is no small situation to handle in the first place, for most any human, even if they are jaded," Lucifer says, pausing as he focuses on his driving for a moment, turning on his windshield wipers as a spot of rain starts to beat down on the windshield. "And my banishment of the demon responsible for all of this was hard to watch. I didn't intend for any of them to witness me doing it."

Black Cat has posed:
A quiet sympathetic sound: "Eeeewugh."

Her pert nose wrinkles as Lucifer continues on about the corpses. She licks her lips once in unconscious disgust -- blech. At least her lip gloss is vanilla-flavored. A lean forwards in her seat considers the grey of the skies above and the soft pitter-patter of rain only beginning to fall.

"Kind of like you got caught doing your job red-handed, huh?" Felicia glances over at him again, her arms now loosely folded across her lap. There's a gravity to her gaze now, as if she is finally, albeit slowly, beginning to come to terms with the very real possibility that she is indeed in a car with //the// Devil.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer's watching her out of the side of his peripheral vision, and as they stop at a stoplight, he turns his head to look at her more fully. There's no signs of anything inhuman about him at the moment. He's muted: there's no flee of happy maniac that he can often tend to have, that makes him seem sort of weirdly intense. None of it is there: Lucifer's wearing a rare, thoughtful look, which brings some quiet soul to his dark eyes. It's a different style of seductiveness: usually it's brash and bold and fun, but this is a more subtle place.

"No, that would suggest I was doing something I'd get in trouble for. More just being... myself." Lucifer flashes a brief little smile, but it has a sad edge. He looks back out the front as the traffic moves again.

Black Cat has posed:
This time, it feels safe to meet and hold those dark eyes. The knowing within them, however, makes her heart quail somehow, as if she might hazard there's a bruise -- or more than a handful -- dealt to Lucifer somehow in turn over this process, and even despite his cheery air he wears about himself easily as a fine cologne.

Felicia sighs. "I'm sorry that impression was made then, if you were being yourself. I mean, I don't think you're spooky, if that helps?" She tries for a half-grin, decidedly more funning than charming in her own right. "I bet if the Bat-people hung out with you outside of their cowls and gruff voices, they'd find you fun."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer laughs softly, though his mood doesn't immediately reverse. He isn't always as cheery as he portrays, and can't just quickly become happy again. He's deeper than that: which may be a surprise to actually see, given how cheery he usually is. In fact, always is, until now. Something about all of this has worn that happiness down to a more realistic place in the handsome devil. Not everything is brushed off.

"Well," Lucifer chuckles, "The one that witnessed it came by to see me. I decided to show him my angelic side.... and talked him through his worries. I think it will be all right. But it is always a worry. Someone unable to handle me, and it breaks them." Lucifer chuckles and winks at her playfully. That doesn't make his words less serious though. They ring of a joke, but also a truth. He's keeping an eye on her, too, most certainly.

Black Cat has posed:
"Well, I haven't seen those wings yet, so maybe chalk me in on your schedule for a showing." The Cat smirks back at the driver, now resting her elbow on the window base and her chin on her knuckles. "I've seen a lot of crazy things living with Copperfield..."

She falls silent, eyes now peering beyond the streaking of raindrops to the world beyond the car. Still, the pensive silence doesn't last long. "I think you're kind, being aware of...I guess how you can be too much. A lot of people in this world have big personalities or...you know, like, big powers, and they don't think about potential problems they leave in their wake."

Lucifer has posed:
"Hopefully I don't earn a spot as a 'crazy thing'," Lucifer teases lightly, rolling his eyes. He glances at some movement in his rearview mirror, distracted but only momentarily. "Usually I don't have the wings to show. But while the demons were loose, rapid travel seemed to be worth more than my pride for a little while," Lucifer chatters, as if he's thinking it through while he's talking.

"So you have a /small/ window where I'd consider allowing you to fall to your knees in awe," teases the devil in return. "And oh, I don't mind breaking some people with it. But not ones I like, and enjoy talking to. I'd rather you continue to find pleasure in my company."

Black Cat has posed:
His second tease about the impact of the wings is enough to incite a rill of bubbling laughter from Felicia. It's bright in the small space and she half-turns her face towards the window, her free arm wrapped about her stomach loosely.

"Oh -- oh -- Lucifer, you're pretty damn amazing, but I don't think I'll be //that// shocked about your wings," the Cat claims, having absolutely zero experience with angelic wings on //his// terms. She did meet Hayal, after all, and is likely ignoring the amount of glee she took in his wings, with their feathers touched by dawn and rose-gold.

"I'd rather you not make me reconsider my entire world-view, yes," she adds, still laughing, but just as in his earlier case, there's an insinuation of truth there.

Lucifer has posed:
"I don't really care about impressing anyone," Lucifer grins, amused by her laughter, and warming because of it. He doesn't seem to appear to think he was made fun of. Or if he was, he's fine with going along with it. He's nearly impossible to actually insult, at least from what he's shown. Besides, her teasing is all fun and games, and he knows that anyway!

Another stoplight allows Lucifer to turn his dark, endless eyes on her. And his aura leaks out like a cozy blanket in the car. Lack of inhibitions galore, so fun. "It's going to be another five minutes, use the time wisely to go back and forth about how much you'd like to see them," Lucifer encourages, eyes widening, daring her to do just that.

Black Cat has posed:
The Cat's jade-green eyes partially-lid even as she arches an imperious, questioning brow at the driver now sparing attention from the road.

"Gosh, and here I forgot bring my planner with me -- and a pen or pencil too! What am I going to do? I mean, I could use my phone, but half the pings are from social media sites anyways. I could lose track of the day and time I pick to see those wings," she stresses in fun, feigning concern.

Still, she never looks away from Lucifer, her eyes now squinted. "...yeah, yeah, okay, let's see them once we're out of the car and all the stuff is put away. This is a nice car, but there's not a lot of space. I bet they'd be cramped in here," she comments as she looks around the interior.

Lucifer has posed:
"No, I'm far too impressive and sizable to fit without some considerable effort," Lucifer answers sleekly without any trace of innocence. "Story of my life." He clicks his tongue against his teeth, but shrugs his shoulders, tapping his fingers and palms against the steering wheel to some music perhaps only he can hear. It is probably not the song of a heavenly host, based on this drumbeats he's doing.

He was teasing, but his glances to her are more careful. He hasn't decided if he'll do it yet, not really. And he didn't promise, he may still call an audible if he deems it would damage their friendship. He lacks in friends.

Finally, though, he pulls up outside of the sanctum, and selects a parking spot illegally in front of a hydrant. Fortunately the rain has let up.

Black Cat has posed:
It's not quite a snort, and not quite a titter, but Lucifer's ribald 'innocent' comment does entice the sound out of his passenger in the car. She rolls her eyes in good-natured patience and still laughs a few more times under her breath as she looks out the window now beyond the rain drops.

"What a life," she eventually replies, and makes no effort to hide the amount of smirking showing at her red-red lips. Arriving at the Sanctum seems to occur quickly enough and Felicia is thrilled that the shower appears to have ceased, if only temporarily. The cool dampness in the air, while prone to slinking into boots and beneath coats to chill, does hold down much of the city's more mineral-prone air. Instead, it smells more of petrichor, something she realizes she misses as she pauses near the trunk to inhale deeply.

"That's such a great smell, rain," the platinum-blonde comments half to herself and half to Lucifer. "There's kind of a backyard behind the Sanctum, you know, like a green belt. You could do the wing thing back there. I don't know how the house would respond if you did it inside. I don't want you to get in trouble." Her explanation comes as she gathers parcels from the back.

Lucifer has posed:
"Mmmmm yes, far be it for me to be in /trouble/, I have no idea what that possibly could be like," Lucifer says, his tone as teasing as always, but not mean in his sarcasm. He's grinning about it while he opens the trunk for her to retrieve her things. He'll even help with one of the bags, seeing as he's being so wonderful lately. His little smile at what a good person he is will certainly show: this must be what doing charity feels like!

"Hmmm," Lucifer says, as she calls attention to the smell; he stops to breathe it in, pay attention to it. "You're right. I don't stop and smell things nearly enough. Usually I only do it with people," he remarks, before moving to follow her with the parcel he decided to bring inside for her.

Black Cat has posed:
Felicia reaches for the last bag, but lo, it ends up in the club owner's capable hands. "Thank you," she says lightly, favoring him with a smile. Pausing too just before him, the young woman does indulge in one final deep breath full of the scent of fresh rain.

Some of the air leaves her in a laugh. "You mean you stop and smell people? Doesn't that get awkward sometimes? I mean, you're probably only stopping to smell people when they smell nice, right?" Reaching into her pocket, the Cat pulls out a key for the Sanctum's front door. A smooth 'click' and the darkwood door opens to admit them both. "Because there is such a thing as too much perfume and cologne, you know." Her tone educates jokingly. "I mean, sometimes, I'm on the subway, and I feel like if someone lit a match, the person might go up in smoke. Pfft." Sound effect required, apparently.

The rhythm of her heels leads the way to a side room just off the kitchen. It appears to be a place to temporarily stash parcels. "I figure we can put stuff here. The backyard's just down this hallway and to the left."

Lucifer has posed:
"I only mean that I'm far more likely to take in the scent of a lovely woman than I am, say, that lamppost," Lucifer jauntily answers her, bringing the parcel inside to the side room, setting it down in the spot she's indicated. As he draws back, he does linger near her, with a subtle intake of breath and teasing little lift of brow. It's flirty but it also isn't: he flirts, but it's only to be playful, not to actually push.

Not that he'd say no.

"I don't set random people with too much cologne on fire. Although I can't say it isn't a temptation. I am not, in fact, a murderer," Lucifer doesn't go wandering off by himself even if she points at the back yard: he does not feel a need to walk off alone.

Black Cat has posed:
Should Lucifer be categorizing the perfume lingering about the Cat, he'll find it light and sweet without being cloying -- golden notes of vanilla and caramel hang over deeper notes of sandalwood. Felicia is distracted with making certain a jar doesn't escape from a bag and misses his sniff, though she does turn to look at him and smirk.

"I can't see you murdering someone." For all it might sound trite, again, there's a ring of truth. Something deep in her psyche wonders more that anyone deserving Lucifer's anger like as not had it coming in spades. "Come on, I'll show you the backyard." Swanning past the man, she then leads the way. The hallway is shadowed in some places and many an item is either behind glass or beneath bell jars. Thankfully, it's a short travel to the glass door. Unlocking it, Felicia steps out into what appears to be an impossibly large expanse of greenery for the way the property abuts against its neighbors.

Another deep sniff is appreciative. "Just wish it wasn't so cold." A little shiver means she jams hands into the pockets of her trenchcoat. Now Lucifer gets an expectant look.

Lucifer has posed:
"Well now. YOU just put me on the spot, haven't you," Lucifer asks her, in a slow move around her, as if the garden interested him. Maybe it does, or he's just deciding to let her be cold a little while longer. He looks at the magical area of greenery, but then draws his eyes back to her.

"Fortunately, I have zero performance anxiety. I merely await to see if you'd rather stand in the lawn, in case of collapse; but I suppose I could catch you, if I'm feeling nice about it," Lucifer says. There's a slight sense of stalling, but then he seems to let that go.

With a roll of both shoulders there's a forward rush of air, as the supernatural wings open suddenly. The air isn't cold; it's a warm rush. If she was expecting giant bat wings from the devil, these are not those!

Lucifer's wings are angelic, but quite different from the ruddy dove-coloring of Hayal's. Lucifer's archangel wings are blissfully white, painted in a purity of tone so pale that they emit light. Each blade of feather has a luminescent quality, creating a swirling glow down the soft pinions. They're magical, heavenly, otherworldly, and charged with a warm energy. They're also big, they open and span outwards quite far on either side, seemingly out of nowhere. Lucifer's countenance adjusts a little, gaining some of the light, though his expression doesn't change.

There isn't evidence of anything devilish to take in: it's all very angelic, but the power level is on display, something intertwined with revealing his inhuman nature. He leaves his hands loose and comfortable at his sides, though he let his eyes flicker closed for a moment, shoulderblades rolling after the release.

Black Cat has posed:
"Sure, I'll stand on the lawn." Felicia doesn't look away from him, however, as she takes the few necessary steps to travel from the small brick courtyard area and out into the green grass still dotted with clinging raindrops. Her brows meet as she watches Lucifer ready himself.

The frontwash of air rushes past fast enough to merit catching her balance subtly as well as to touch at her hair blown out of place. She blinks a few times in sheer reaction. Her palms linger at odd angles against one ear and half-covering the other as the radiance of the display begins to filter into her perception. Slowly, her hands slide down and take up residence wrung somewhere abouts mid-sternum. Her red-red lips work for a second, but words aren't to be found.

He really is Lucifer Morningstar, the archangel.

And with a cross-legged plop, Felicia stumbles back to sit there in the cold, wet grass.

"...holy crap," she whisper-squeaks, eyes wide and gleaming.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer didn't move to catch her or anything of the sort. Whether he could have doens't matter, since he doesn't try anyway. He does come over a few steps, the wings folding halfway, to a sort of backwards half-mast position, to be primarily behind him and not out the sides. It's a natural little movement; he's used to the wings and didn't need to entirely fold them to do what he's doing, which is to cross a few feet and squat on his heels.

He doesn't touch her at all: no, he's learned never to do that. It's one thing to see something, another thing to have it come grab you. Even coming closer could be invasive, but he tries it anyway, though he keeps well out of her personal space, to reduce his threat. "I'm not going to harm you," Lucifer says, brows down, eyes intense. His aura, such as it is, isn't different: it's the same relaxing, amiable 'thing', but it isn't like the rest of it is anything close to subtle. "And I'm not particularly holy anymore. But I do a good impersonation, at times. I would imagine He enjoys reminding me of it."

Black Cat has posed:
Felicia's eyes track his face as if it were an anchor in the moment. When Lucifer's down at her level, she simply nods in silence at the lack of trouble intended towards her person. She licks her lips, a show of nerves, and swallows. It takes her another few seconds or so to scrounge up the English language to her forebrain and her voice is still very, very quiet in the backyard of the Sanctum.

"I don't think you'll hurt me. I haven't done anything bad to you." It's simple, stunned logic padded heavily by his cozy aura. There's a beat and it inevitably comes to her lips, accompanied by what appears to be a blush. Still, her willpower is impressive, a small candle's glow compared to his own solar shine:

"...can I touch a feather?"

Lucifer has posed:
Can she touch? Lucifer shrugs indifferently. His manner clashes, absolutely, with the heavenly display, as if he had no real regard or appreciation for it. Or more that he's aware, but it's not something he has reason to be proud of: like a kid driving dad's loaned car. Still, he's not entirely unaware of what the wings are. He spreads them open and forwards towards her, creating a cone of shiny white wings as they bend forwards around where she sits. And with Lucifer front and center, wearing his heavy smirk.

"Yeah. No different than an extra arm, to me, anyway," Lucifer answers evenly, dark eyes moving over the wings with a sort of mild annoyance: maybe they aren't shiny enough for his taste.

Black Cat has posed:
Felicia nods, still abjectly bewildered by the whole display. She manages to look up at least, to appreciate the sheer magnitude of the wings. No living bird she's ever seen managed near to this outrageous grandiosity. Tentatively, in counter to her usual brash state, she reaches out to brush fingertips at the pristinely-white feathers whose pearly breaths of color put to shame all the highest-quality jewelry in the world.

How to describe it? Impossible -- finer and softer than what even her superhuman senses might qualify. Felicia's red-red lips round into an unthinking circle.

"They're...just...really, really pretty." Her eyes flick back to Lucifer's face and an awkward, very human little smile appears slowly. Awe can take a backseat for a second or two for proper speech. "Just...wow."

Lucifer has posed:
"And bulletproof," Lucifer laughs, his tone snarky, dismissive: but this is just Lucifer, and his reaction to any time God comes up. It's the same sort of disgust, though it may be hard to associate how he can feel that way about the heavenly wings. Lucifer fishes in his pocket, drawing his flask out, having a drink from that. It's slightly compulsive, perhaps, to not just do that, but to then draw his cigarettes out, as if he needed something to fiddle with in his hands.

Still, despite that, he's monitoring her. "How we doing over there?" he asks, a bit pointedly, checking her expression. The question is said casually, but the meaning of the question is a lot deeper than that.

Black Cat has posed:
"I'm, uh."

Felicia blinks at him. It's appearing to take longer than usual to account for her current state of existence.

"Um." White teeth fret at the corner of her lip due to inability to find the right way to describe it, at least at first. "I mean, this is...insane, and...I'm not religious, so...it's not like you've...confirmed anything for me. I've met Thor and he's a god, so...or at least, he calls himself a god, I don't know, he might be something else. I mean, I kind of want a stiff drink or three because you're an //angel//, for fuck's sake, and -- and -- okay, so //THAT// is a little weird for me, but...I mean, you know, I live with Copperfield and 'weird' is kind of the state of existence around his place." Her hands wring in her lap, but not white-knuckled, more a fidgety outlet for adrenaline.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer wrinkles his nose a bit, scans his wings visually. "I /am/, aren't I," Lucifer sighs. It's not fully playful: and it isn't as if he were just realizing it, but it is more as if she'd called him frustrating. He is, isn't he. Sigh. He stands back up, but there's no manner of actively taking the wings away from her: he just didn't feel like continuing to squat. But he folds them closed, and rotates his back and spine just a little, and they fold in with a sudden little burst of movement. He adjusts his coat a tiny bit, then offers her the whiskey flask, in the suddenly much darker yard.

"Well, I was. Don't really fit the bill there now. Though I know at this point, that's not really the distinction that's useful to you," Lucifer observes. "Still me, though."

Black Cat has posed:
"...whoa," the Cat breathes, blinking a bunch of times again, her mouth falling open with no shame. Such a large set of wings just basically folded into an impossibly small space. //WHOA.//

With an unflinching pragmatism, she then takes the whiskey flask from him. Unscrewing the lid, the flask is tipped back and a good two glugs go down before she pulls the top from her lips to cough a few times. Wincing, she sniffs and coughs again.

"That is fierce stuff." Lucifer's flask is offered back to him. "And my ass is cold, so I'm standing up now." Maybe she was coaching herself to get to her feet. Felicia begins this process, rolling to a hip and pulling booted feet beneath herself.

Lucifer has posed:
"I don't actually need all this space. But it felt like it was a better theatre out here, and I'm a bit of a show-off at points, when it's natural to do so," Lucifer comments. "Let's go in and warm your ass up," he suggests, with a flicking motion of head, motioning inside, after taking a drink from his flask himself. He's not worried about cooties. He didn't end up smoking, and isn't going to do it inside the /sanctum/, so he puts them away. Mostly in that he doesn't feel like picking a fight with Stephen in particular. It's already been an interesting night.

Lucifer's back, as he intended to lead inside, shows zero signs of wings: no torn jacket. It's a little unrealistically magical. He hasn't actually moved more than two steps, he offers her a hand up, but it's measured: he's still being careful about touching her at all.

Black Cat has posed:
"Thanks, but I got it." Felicia waves away the hand, but she's sure to try for another smile for the club owner. "My ass will appreciate being warm, believe you-me," opines the thief with what might be a small titter.

"What do you keep in that thing, by the way?" Her eyes fall to the flask even as she takes a moment to brush off the back of her coat as best she can of any stray pieces of grass. She isn't unaware of the unblemished fabric of Lucifer's coat either, for all that her gaze lingers there as well. There's a small nod, almost thoughtful, as if accepting this was easier than the whole show in itself. Still, she's not babbling or weeping. Living with Stephen really must have ripped her blinkers off in regards to accepting what reality //could// actually be.

Lucifer has posed:
"The tears shed by mothers that lose their babies, just before they die of heartbreak," Lucifer answers. "I'm kidding. A joke. Various whiskey. Not all at once, obviously. I vary my brands," Lucifer answers, his attention drawn to the flask, as he puts the cap back onto it. He leaves her to stand on her own without any comment: he didn't really care, not in the slightest, that she didn't want a hand up. He doesn't generally help humans very much as a general thing.

"It /is/ rather, ah, slippery of me to show you what I did. It is me but it isn't. But let's start here before we go truly satanic," Lucifer jokes, with a quick flash of charismatic grin. Because he's Satan. Ha ha. Not as funny with the truth hanging out there, maybe. He's testing, in a way, to see if there are cracks in the facade she's building as she pretends to be fine with things.

Black Cat has posed:
Behind him, Felicia snorts at the crack about tears. There's a second of tittering before she composes herself again. Fingertips direct a lost strand of pale hair behind her ear as she follows him into the far-warmer and drier interior of the Sanctum. It's a familiar place and her shoulders already drop a noticeable amount. Here, at least, she knows she's safe.

She doesn't shoulder out of her coat just yet. Rather, she gives Lucifer a lingering look. "I mean...yeah, it was a good place to start. I've seen something that had to be Chthulu's cousin though, so...I'm still probably going to need a chair and all if you want to pull another trick, but...I mean, I still like you, Lucifer, if that's what you're worried about. It's pretty fucking cool that you have wings. I mean, I'm..."

A little laugh and roll of her jade-green eyes. "I'm kind of jealous."

Lucifer has posed:
"I'd give them to you if I could. Really. Just another thing that is not something I get to have a say in," Lucifer says, with a long put-upon sigh. "Every time I cut them off they just grow right back," he adds, with a flare of hand. He unwraps his scarf from his neck loosely, putting it up on the coatrack by the door, but leaves his coat on for the moment: he isn't actually sure how long he'll be staying, but the scarf was bulky and throwing off his groove.

He's far more handsome with it off, indeed, with his exposed neck and throat. But then, that's just a general rule: taking clothing off does that, for the devil. "I /do/ appreciate your assurance you still like me. I've lost friends over less." A sleek grin, but it's lightly sad.

Black Cat has posed:
It does register, the emotional coloring of his grin, but Felicia is still staring in outright shock.

"...why would you cut them off? They're beautiful," she asks, brows drawn up into an eloquent gathering of concern. "That's like...cutting your nose off to spite your face or something." Her hands wring again before her stomach. "I //do// consider you a friend, Lucifer, and I don't like hearing when friends hurt themselves. It's a simple thing: don't hurt yourself, please."

Lucifer has posed:
"Because they are a gift from /Him/," Lucifer says darkly. "We're not on good terms." Lucifer gives her a bemused smile. "Before I forget: I did mention before that one of the Bats saw me banish the demons," Lucifer comments. "He did /not/ observe my wings. He saw a rather darker aspect. Still: both of you have seen, might need to chat to not lose your minds."

Ahem. "Mostly him, I think you'll be all right. I think he might be struggling with that he might go to Hell. I'll give you his contact, if you like. He was curious about you anyway. I know humans like to share the load." Lucifer's attempting to be empathetic and understanding, and his method is to approach it this way. In a somewhat entirely inhuman way, since that's how he looks at it. Humans are a different species with short little lives and broken psyches if he meddles too much. But still worth it, still fun, they are.

Black Cat has posed:
Felicia's brows rise to hear of one of the Bat-people's opposing visual interaction with Lucifer -- memory catches up to her quickly enough: right, right, he'd banished the demons and the others had been present.

"Surrrre," the thief replies, her tone beginning cautious and ending far more certain, as if she were coming to her conclusions even as the consonant drew out. "Sure. Yeah, give me his contact. If anything, I have a few useful tricks if there's any lingering clean-up to figure out...and, I mean, you're not wrong. Chitchats over wine are real things and reeeeeeally useful sometimes. Text me his info? Or I can go get a piece of pen and paper? Are you feeling archaic today?" The tease is accompanied by a stronger grin yet.

Lucifer has posed:
"I've left my branding tools for writing it on flesh and accompanying nipple twisters in hell," Lucifer teases her in return. His jokes have a slightly different color on them now, as they bring some reality with them. Lucifer actually tortures people. In hell. That is his job.

Yay for vacations. "I'll text it," He agrees, pulling his phone out, and then making an interesting curious face at it. "Ooh. I'm being invited to consult on a triple homicide. I always like to make those," he says, but flips to the chat with her to send her the contact. He's fine with technology.

"Are you all right if I go? Don't hurt yourself over any theological crash of beliefs, okay? Text me before you do. I can fly and everything, be here like that." Quick snap of fingers. "While I have wings, at any rate." He winks a little.