14305/Happy Hour at the Devil's nest

Happy Hour at the Devil's nest
Date of Scene:	12 April 2022
Location:	Club Lux, Melville
Synopsis:	Lois is under the weather, but won't admit it. Cue Greek food and session night at Lux.
Cast of Characters:	Sinister, Lois Lane

---

Sinister has posed:
It could be that there's a new chef in tenure at the kitchens of Lux, but there are enticing smells here and there on the air, as people enjoy the cheaper cocktails of the evening and the shots that are designed to get people loose and on the merry. It's a band night, mostly independents and between the sets, the DJ rocks the turntables. Reasonably busy, for a Tuesday. And the appetizing smells? That might just be hunger talking.

Lois Lane has posed:
Lois is starving. She feels like she just had lunch, but time moves quickly at the Daily Planet and it was certainly near to dinner time. So, instead of settling for something miserable she could heat in the microwave at home, she's decided to come out to the Lux for whatever the chef is cooking up tonight. As she smells the cooking scents on the air, a low groan escapes her lips as she moves over to the counter. She's not dressed for clubbing tonight, but just in the clothes she wore to work -- skinny jeans, knee high boots, a slouchy sweater. She seems to think it's acceptable to wear to the club on a Tuesday.

"Whatever's on special, give it to me... and mozarella sticks for an appetizer. Oh. And a dirty martini. But put the food in first."

Sinister has posed:
The barman nods. Fresh of face, good looking, Lucifer's usual type to man the libations. Lets face it, nobody in Lux' employment is hard on the eye. The dirty martini, made to perfection is set on a little white napkin with a gold trim, with two little olives staring at her through their impaled misery.

At least Mozza sticks are not a long cook and should arrive promptly.

But what about familiar faces? Lucifer doesn't appear to be in sight just now, but standing at the base of the semi-circular stares, leaning against the bannister and sipping a fruity girly drink through a curly straw, is the tall, dark and handsome English Doctor. Honestly, the man does tower above most, it's amazing he can blend into the scenery as easily as he apparently can, when he doesn't want to be noticed. How do you HIDE six foot five and built like that? It's a mystery.

Lois Lane has posed:
Once her drink is set in front of her, Lois scoops up the toothpick and pops those olives past her lips immediately. She really does feel half ravenous, even if she couldn't say why. She'll have to settle for nursing her drink and waiting for her order. Hopefully she got here early enough that the kitchen isn't backed up yet.

Restless pale eyes flicker around the room, searching for any familiar face, since Lucifer seems occupied. That's when she catches sight of the Doctor and, if she manages to catch his eye, gives a casually friendly wave. He wasn't hard to miss and, so far, she'd enjoyed his company. Might as well have more. He'd be a better distraction than her growling stomach.

Sinister has posed:
Sinister's gaze does a sweep of the crowd, moderate for the session, but so far well behaved. He does seem like he's searching for things face to face, maybe reading someone's story in their bodylanguage, or the echoes that hide on their faces, behind the make-up, behind the smiles. The sweep does take him to the bar, to the familiar shape there and catches eyes as well as wave -- the initial greeting is nothing more than a raise of his drink to her, but that subtlety is enough to aknowledge her presence.

Then the mozzarella sticks are right there, with two ramekins of dip, one Ranch and one Marinara with a kick of horseradish. Cheese deep fried with a breadcrumb coating never smelled so delicious, right?

And then from right at her side: "Miss Lane. Just rolled out of the office tonight?"

Lois Lane has posed:
Normally, Lois isn't exactly a delicate woman. She's loud, out there, demanding, and not shy about what she wants. But she's not exactly messy either, not in the way that she's consuming the fried cheese now. She's got some ranch on the corner of her lip that she quickly tries to clean up as the doctor comes to visit her, popping another bite past her lips as he's settling.

She is polite enough to chew and swallow, at least, as she gives him a slightly embarrassed smile, "Doc. Yeah, sorry... just got off and I'm starving. I'm glad Lucifer hires half way decent chefs for this place. I'd hate to have to put off my drinking with dinner." She gives him a bit more of a grin.

Sinister has posed:
The doctor has yet to get to know the woman all that well, but first impressions tend to linger and punctuate future encounters with injections of comparative study. He arches an eyebrow slightly at the gusto with which the mozza sticks are going down. "I'll make sure Chef knows he can deep fry cheese like a pro," he says with an amused tone. "But I imagine sometimes the work that you do necessitates grabbing a bite on the run. Hot dog stands, they make a mint out of the working class jane and investigative reporter, both." He settles, nay, perches on the barstool, graceful with it. He also looks younger than the last time she saw him. A facelift, maybe.

He waves a hand at the barman and a second dirty is brought over shortly after, sucking a little Hurricane down. "I hope you enjoy spanakopita. He's trying greek barfood for the heck of it." Cheese and spinach and flakey pastry goodness is set down beside her, sizzling still it's so fresh. It comes with a greek salad and a mediterranean slider.

Lois Lane has posed:
The sound that Lois makes in the back of her throat is practically sexual as the special is set in front of her. But who can resist a good spanakopita? She grasps a fork, cutting a piece off but at least restraining long enough to blow across it so she doesn't immediately burn herself. "Yeah, it's definitely like that some days. I don't entirely get it. I had a pretty damn decent lunch today, I'm just... starving. Must be the moon." Lois shrugs and finally lets herself dive into that cheese and spinachy goodness. Her reaction is just as pleased as the scent of it made her. "Chef did good. Damn good..."

Then she's looking him over, both brows arching as she seems to register just how fresh faced the doctor is looking. Meanwhile, for as starved as she is, Lois looks on the edge of pain and maybe a little drawn around the edges. "You're looking good. Take a vacation?"

Sinister has posed:
Last time he looked as if he was in his forties. He looks like a man in his late twenties now and considerably fitter. Mind, a lot can be down to the cut of clothing, how much shows. But still, it's quite remarkable. "Why, thank you. Actually yes, but it wasn't the kind where there's plenty of sun involved. I went to Scotland. Scotland and sun don't go terribly well together; it comes out once or twice a year and they all dive into the local pub in fear of that glowing ball in the sky. It rained on me though, which I suppose was quite refreshing and incredibly nostalgic." He arches an eyebrow again, then frowns oh-so-slightly. "I wish I could give you the same compliment, but you do seem a bit ragged around the edges. Work keeping you burning the candle at both ends, Lois?"

The tone is solicitous as he twirls the straw in his hurricane, grey eyes penetrating. Grey eyes do that very well.

Lois Lane has posed:
While she's not really feeling her best, Lois is still sharp of eye. Now that he's closer to her, she looks the man up and down with a tilt of her head, "...You're telling me that a little get away to Scotland has made you look at least a decade younger than the last I saw you? Damn. I should go to Scotland." She narrows her blue eyes a bit more, voice quieter, not wanting to accuse him of magic or powers or anything loudly, she's not that rude, but she is suspicious.

Then he asks about work and she frowns a bit more, considering the answer around another bite of her food before she shakes her head quietly, "No, not really... They're still going light on me after the cult incident. Took a trip to meet the boyfriend's parents but even that was.. pleasant. Almost relaxing. As relaxing as that can be."

Sinister has posed:
"It's the haggis. They run wild and free and if you eat one freshly caught, they have amazing rejouvenating properties," Sinister replies in a droll tone, not missing a single beat. Another sip of the cocktail and he eases his elbow on the bar tapping it to signal an ashtray. The silver case is left between them in invite, the zippo stood beside it after he lights his own. "I succesfully hunted a werewolf, also, which might have something to do with it. Nothing quite like the potential of mortal danger to make one feel young and alive and appreciative of your adrenal glands."

All that said, he shaves the tip of his smoke into a cone. Precise in that action, is he. "Did you drink the water someplace that you shouldn't have? And by that, I do include places in Gotham, Queens, Harlem and occasionally Metropolis. Some places haven't replaced their pipes in years."

Lois Lane has posed:
The questioning about the water just gets a firm smirk from Lois, eyes slightly rolling, "Look, I'm a reporter and I go everywhere. I also live in the Suicide Slum of Metropolis, so if the water supply in my building hasn't made me immune to everything, I don't know what will. It's probably just stress." She takes a final bite of her dinner, having scarfed it down as quickly as she did the mozarella sticks, and then pulls her martini over for dessert. It's odd enough that she's chosen food over booze. Lois almost never does.

"Don't suppose you have another smoke for a stressed our dame?" She nods to his tobacco, eyes a little envious. She must have forgotten her own.

Sinister has posed:
"Of course, help yourself. I forget sometimes to actually -say- these things. I talk quite a bit with gesture," nodding to the fact that he set it neatly between them with the zippo where she could easily take it, by an indicator. "It's a bit old fashioned, I suppose. Like me." He does however, flick the lighter and hold it there for her to light with, another old-fashioned behaviour. "My dear Lois, you are as fearless as you are tenacious, but I feel that you sell mortality short. We all think that we're immortal until the one thing comes along to kick us in the backside and remind us of it all." Smoke returned to lips, he exhales the blue-grey through his nose in a steady stream. "I suspect that's why so many flock to bask in the glow of Lux, you know. To be immortal adjacent. It kicks things up a notch."

But that said, he looks her face over, halmarks like dark lines and slightly sunken eyes that might corroborate stress. "You might be right though. But what in the world could be -that- stressful of late, given everything else you've said."

Lois Lane has posed:
The offer of the tobacco is happily taken, though not as ravenously as she did the food, Lois is a woman of her vices. She'll savor the smoke like a good dessert after the filling meal, even if her right hand twitches, just a bit, as someone else's meal comes past them smelling rather divine. She shakes the need off, focusing on the light he's offering her with a few deep breaths drawn in. "Much better. And... it's alright. I try not to be rude, when sometimes it's my baseline just to take or shove my way into things. The reporter in me. I go rather I'm welcome or not." She flashes him a wan smile with that.

Then he's looking her over a bit closer and she gets that feeling of being examined by a Doctor. It's not a great feeling, even if she is looking worn around the edges. She pulls her thin lips into agood smirk at his question, "Let's see. A month ago I exposed a cult, then they kidnapped me and tried to experiment on me. Then I started dating the guy I've had a crush on for ages and I'm still trying to juggle all of that with my regular work. I'd say my whole life is just... Stressful. That's the way I like it. I can manage."

Sinister has posed:
"Mmm. It doesn't strike me as abnormally stressful though," the doctor puts his invisible hat on the stool beside him with a pantomime and taps the side of his nose with his index finger then though. "Mum's the word. Run down sometimes makes the cortisol levels spike. Some people get cats and stroke them. Me, I recommend having spa days. A good mani-pedi, or just a soak in a hot tub with a candle or two and a chilled chardonnay. Ticks and balances. I love a good mudpack, personally, with the whole cucumbers on the eyes and all."

Just let yourself bask in that mental image.

"You do look a little drawn though, which isn't a good look on anyone but the consumptive or the melancholy aesthetiques. If things mount up and your insurance won't cover it..." he reaches into his Dior jacket and produces a card, which he sets by her martini glass. "I run clinics. I'll be happy to do you a work-up pro bono."

Lois Lane has posed:
"If I didn't know you better, Essex, I'd say you were just trying to get me naked on your table." Lois teases him gently with a little wink, and then she takes another long drag of that tobacco. As if it could give her the energy she needed. But nothing was quite cutting it nowadays. She rolls her shoulders back, trying to relax, to almost prove to herself and him that she was at ease and fine. She's not really succeeding.

"But, I should be fine, honestly. I'm sure it's just the winter catching up with me. I don't look *that* awful, do I? Not really..." Now she's trying to get a glimpse herself in the mirror behind the bar.

Sinister has posed:
"More like sitting up, turning your head and coughing. That works better on some than others though," is the sassed reply, drinking in the sight. The little things. The lies we tell ourselves. "You just look abnormal for you, is all. Drawn in a way that isn't common for you, even when you've been drinking like a fish and proving to the world you're still alive." He looks from her to the mirror, catching eyes there, instead. They seem far sharper there, like living steel in his face.

Lois Lane has posed:
Staring at them both in the mirror was a little odd. His eyes seemed sharper, more alive than when she looked at him in person. And now that she looked, really looked, Lois had to admit that she looked more ragged around the edges than even when she was fresh from the hospital. She frowns, dragging one hand down across her face before letting out a low breath.

"I'm... I'm sure it's fine. If I can't shake it off in a few days, I'll bother you, how does that sound? But I've been through worse and... This is fine." She's a decent liar, but even this one isn't that convincing.

Sinister has posed:
Amazing what black light and the unforgiving reality of a halogen strip will do. What illusions it can paint. What flaws it can reveal, even! "Keep the card then. I meant what I said. And if it is all fine, then I will never see you darkening my door, now will I? I swear, there are aspects about America that make me suspect that the powers that be honestly feel like some people deserve to be sick and die, for the lack of care that the medical world and all its deep pockets care."

He raises a finger to the barman again, a third dirty Martini and a refreshed hurricane are brought and set down. "Thank you James..." looking from the Mirror Lois to the real one the shadow paints his face kinder. "You know, perhaps I am Dorian Grey and I visited my ancient holdings in the highlands of Dambrugh. Or maybe you'd actually like to ask the questions you've got in your head. I'm pretty sure that they're there."

Lois Lane has posed:
The offer to actually ask those questions gets a flickering look from her pale, slightly blood shot eyes, and a renewed bit of energy that wasn't there before. If anything could make a reporter feel better, it was carte blanche to answer questions. She doesn't say anything else about her health, but she does slip the card into her jeans pocket. Just in case.

"Hmm. That's a very dangerous offer, Nathaniel. I am a reporter, after all. But... you do look a decade younger. Genuinely. Like, in a way surgery probably couldn't even do. So... tell me. Did Lucifer cook something up? Did you see a powered individual? How DID You do it?"

Sinister has posed:
Maybe that was deliberate? It's entirely possible.

"I suppose saying healthy living and making another wild haggis joke are not liable to be believed, particularly not as I am smoking a carcinogen at the moment," Nathaniel replies, making another pass with the cigarette and using the motion of his hand to sweep along the clean shaven edge of his jawline. Unafraid, he looks her in the eye again. "No? Well." He sighs dramatically, then removes the slice of pineapple from his drink to bite into. "Complete molecular control on the cellular level, Lois. Quite literally mind over matter." He sets his hand infront of her, touches the end of his index finger to the steel of the cigarette case and gazes at the back of his hand. Very soon, it becomes shiny, then polished like steel itself, the skin transforming infront of her eyes until it has scurried on past the cuffs of his sleeves. He turns his palm up, waggling fingers fluidly, though with another couple of taps, the fingernail clonks on the metal just as if it were metal itself. "I am precisely as old, or as young as I wish to be."

Lois Lane has posed:
"Holy *shit*." Lois breathes out, entirely having forgotten about her previous issues as he reveals to her his magic touch, literally almost. Lois' blue eyes stare in quiet shock, taking it all in as part of her tries to figure out how he's fooling her, but she knows he's not. She cracks a bit more of a smile, "Deep down, you wanted me to ask. You wanted to show off a bit." She teases him with a little wink. "Well...success. Consider me impressed. That's gotta be a hell of a way to live. Lucky man."

Sinister has posed:
"Weeeeeeeeeeeeeell," Nathaniel drawls out the word "...you didn't /really/ expect Lucifer to settle down with just anybody did you? And you got that curious look the last time I saw you, but never asked, so." He shrugs lightly, grins crooked for a moment. "Maybe just a little. But also, so you might understand a little better-- it was fascination and a need to know, that brought me to Lux in the first place, to question rumours and modern mythos. Answers only lead to more questions, but eventually a comprehension of similarity that was both surprising and solicitous. The doctor in me needed to know and to question the science of the Morningstar and it has been enlightening."

He finishes his cigarette and stubs it out, tilting his head in confusion as a glass of milk is brought down from the elevator and set before him. He blinks at it, glances up at thin air, then snorts and sips. Apparently the taste of it is surprising too, as he blinks a few times, looking at the glass. "Well, well. Anyway, where was I? Ah, yes."

Setting the milk aside, he shakes his other hand out, until his skin resembles everyone else's once again. "Suffice to say, I am an anatomist, physiologist, kinesthesiologist, neurologist, epidemiologist... I've had quite some time to study a great many fields. That's why I offered, pro-bono, if you require it."

Lois Lane has posed:
"Quite some time... so, I take it that even when you looked a decade older, with these sort of gifts, you have... many more years under your belt than we can see?" Lois asks with arched brows. She's quite as she asks those questions, trying to keep her voice low enough that it's just for their ears. She doesn't need him getting in trouble because someone too nosy intervened. But she will keep asking questions.

"How long have you been studying? Is this a mutation, or something different? You only affect yourself, or you can affect other things?"

Sinister has posed:
"Many more, yes. Young by some standards, but... well, I look good for my years, even when I am wrinkly," the reply sounds quite honest. "I sailed on the Titanic, when I was already quite old. I remember much of that with perfect clarity; and other instances. Unfortunately, I am not immune to powerful emotion and experience ingraining deeply." He pauses, then offers in the same quiet tone, though the barman doesn't seem to pay this much mind, there are others that are not 'staff' here. It might be appreciated, this relative privacy. "You would probably call me... a human mutate. I transformed myself into what I am now, by study and application of knowledge. And that same application of knowledge allows me to effect other things. And other people. With the right devices at my disposal at any rate. I have yet to isolate any ability to do molecular transferrance using nothing but the mind and bio-magnetic field, but I am working on that. One day, perhaps." Pause "Electricity however is relatively easy to control. It follows certain laws." He places his cellphone atop the bar and nods at her, then simply looks at the device, touching it with his pinky finger. It starts scrolling like mad, racing through page after page of data at a rate of knots. "I love this age. The wealth of human knowledge in the palm of my hand."

Lois Lane has posed:
Her ice blue eyes flicker from him to his phone, looking over the most recent parlor trick. Well, far more than a parlor trick. Lois' eyes go even wider, dipping her head in honest surprise and approval. "I...I can tell. Damn. Well... Does that mean your hands can be like... Shock you back to life paddles? Must be nice, as a doctor. Not that I suspect those things get used near so much as we see on television. But damn. I... I'll just sit here and be jealous that you look fresh as a peace while I'm looking ten years older just because I'm tired."

Sinister has posed:
"Defibrillators? Yes, sometimes. If I concentrate. But I really have to concentrate. I much prefer actually using a defibrillator. Or my other equipment." Sinister lures his hurricane closer, the pineapple down in one bite and sips. Ages old and likes fruity girly drinks. "Cellphones are particularly easy, given that they work on static electricity and battery power. But it's useful to simply be able to think what I need to find." He glances at her over his cheekbones, the corner of his eye glimmering under lowered lashes. "You know, I used to perpetually underestimate the need for good sleep. If I'd had a laboratory assistant back in the day, I likely would've ended up with a prank black ring or ten around my eyes where I'd fallen asleep with it pressed to a microscope. Energy and animation does a thousand good things to skin. If you're feeling drained, that will definitely do it."

Lois Lane has posed:
With a deep drink from the glass, Lois finishes her martini before washing it down with a last drag from the tobacco, and that's killed as well. She gives him a less than thrilled grimance of a look at his mention of sleep, but then her head dips in acceptance. "You are right. And not just because you're a brilliant, vaguely anicent doctor of multiple specialties who can control cellphones with a twitch of his mind. I should probably get out of here. Maybe actually get a whole night's sleep. Things will look different in the morning." With that, she pushes herself into standing gingerly. Even her body felt achey. Maybe she was coming down with something. She stretches out a bit and pulls out a few twenties to pay for dinner and tip.

Sinister has posed:
"Before you go, may I?" Sinister gestures to her neck and shoulders. "CHiroprachty also helps on occasion..." --if she does, there's a palm in the back, a brace at the front and a simple, but purposeful yank to get common 'tension areas' to pop back into alignment-- If she doesn't there's just a shrug. Either way, James nods and makes the money disappear where the money goes when tabs are settled up. "Do sleep well, miss Lane. Or at least try to. I hope I -don't- see you in my clinic, for what it's worth."

Lois Lane has posed:
"Yes! Of course. I promise I won't tell Clark." Lois teases him with a little wink, but she does let his expert, large hands rest against her body and gives a little, sharp intake of surprised breath as he does manage to yank a few pops out of her spine. She probably really needed it. She reaches one hand up and presses a gentle squeeze against his hand.

"And... thank you. You're kind, Nathaniel. And a friend. I... appreciate it all. I'm sure there is nothing to worry about but... it's been good to talk." She squeezes his hand one more time and then turns on the ball of her foot, heading out the door.