15284/After Hours At The Lux

After Hours At The Lux
Date of Scene:	03 July 2023
Location:	Club Lux, Melville
Synopsis:	Club Lux is in a state of flux. While the animals make their leave, Satana shows up to tease. Leaving Sinister in question by a Juggernaut getting his flex on. Lucifer heads up with a cat while Nick has work to get at.
Cast of Characters:	Phantasm (Drago), Sinister, Satana, Lucifer, Juggernaut

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Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
As the crowds have gone home, right now the Lux is in the process of cleanup for the activities set for the night. Outside are several vehicles. Two of them appear to be marked for a local shelter and currently has a couple people outside loading up crates into that one. Over at another vehicle, equipment is being carted in.

Inside is a bit of a mess. Literally. As one of the volunteers clean up a small accident on the temporary flooring where the protective sheet had been tugged away by an exuberant puppy. The stage area is already clear of the exotic pets. A remaining crate, and the cages containing rats and hamsters sits near the doorway seemingly waiting their turn to be loaded up. One aquarium, likely not set up for rodents, looks suspiciously empty.

So while animals are being carted out, the items being carted in are being taken over to the stage area but no one is actively unpacking. YET.

Not part of the instrument setup but hanging out near the pet crate, Nick gives another glance inside. In his hand is a solitary treat leftover from the vent. "There you go, Rupert." The treat doesn't even have a chance to fall to the floor of the crate as it is quickly gobbled up by the greedy Lab.

Nick doesn't really seem that notable. Amongst the well dressed at the event, he was one of the ones that opted to wear jeans when working with animals so his attire is really dialed back. Goodwill's finest adorns the Rockstar.

Sinister has posed:
"Overall, I think that went quite well, don't you think?" Sinister exits the elevator when the chime comes and seems devoid of his early neck adornment. There must be some kind of set-up that happens in record time when you're him. He's wearing a white T with black leather vest and black leather pants, ankle boots of the kind that shouldn't get puppy poop on them. Honestly, none of him should get that on him, but luckily for him, the club employs staff.

One of them looks suspiciously like it could be his cousin, sporting glasses and a raggedy beard. Strangely, that individual looks remarkably content with mopping the floor, humming tunelessly whilst working.

"Would you like anything whilst I'm feeling moderately useful?" this is asked whilst the stock is observed, selections floated down and considered, much to the consternation of the bar staff, but they're used to it, no doubt.

Satana has posed:
"You really should get that out of your system," the sultry voice of the woman at the bar, posed just so to attract eyes along her curves to the danger zones, then keep them fixed there by her outrageous choice peek-a-boo fashion with 'peek' and 'boo' in roughly equal proportion. "Feeling useful, I mean. That's what servants are for."

In keeping with the theme of the night, apparently, she, too, has a pet. It's ... vaguely dog shaped. Though it has a lot more spikey bits jutting out from joints and long the spine than any dog has a right to have. It's currently worrying a steak, shredding it with its too-many razorfish-like teeth, making strangely cat-like noises of appreciation.

"I could bring in a few imps to speed this along if you don't mind some of the animals getting eaten."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
As the volunteers comeback to load the remaining crate onto the cart and then one of the rodent cages stacked upon it, Nick starts to push himself off of the floor, giving the volunteers their space. The next stage of the setup won't happen until the rescues are done cleaning up.

"I wouldn't mind a Guinness if you're in the mood for grabbing drinks." The rocker responds. He pauses, lifting up his arms and lifts himself onto his toes for a long stretch. There's the slight pop! of a joint that's been held in position for way too long, likely from his time just sitting in a pen with a bunch of puppies earlier.

Hearing Satana speak up, Nick's arms lower. Tilting his head he looks to the woman and the strange dog. Curiousity starts him on his trek over, seemingly wanting to get a better look at the dog. When the offer to bring in imps at the cost of the animals getting eaten reaches his ears, his brows raise. "Uh no! No eating the animals, please."

Yes it's not his club but. Come on. PUPPIES.

Ok most of the puppies were adopted and the dogs are already outside.

Fine. Come on. HAMSTERS.

Sinister has posed:
"Guiness. I am quite certain that I am man enough and intelligent enough to pour one of those the correct way. Now lets see..." Walking behind the bar, Sinister looks up at the sound of a familiar voice, honing in on the tall drink of poison dressed up like a fatale fantasy. And then the dog. Well, it's possibly a -kind- of dog, but... "...what..." stop, start over. He gets the pint glass, tilts it at a forty degree angle and begins the slow pull of Guinness.

Unfortunately you can be very smart and still screw those up. It has way too much head and it causes a sigh and a second attempt. Meanwhile, there's a sidelong inspection of the animal. "We have staff. No need for the imps. /Is/ that a breed of hellhound? If it is, it's considerably spikier than the ones I've encountered."

Because: Lucifer. Because what the actual hell. "It would seem to be counterproductive to try and raise PR with an animal charity event, only to eat the target charitables, my dear."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer appears up from behind Santana, a crate of his own in hand. "You bring imps into this club and I will toss them right back where you pull them from. I don't need imps running around causing chaos here." He says this simply and then gives an ever-sickeningly-sweet smile to the woman as he passes her and her little dog too.

The crate he carries wiggles, and there may be a mewl that comes from it, but he's trying to keep it quiet as he carries it towards the elevator.

"Besides. Maybe you're not used to a little hard work and using elbow grease to get things done, but here...we like to clean up our own place our own way. And if help is needed, I'm sure Sinister has it covered. You're looking good tonight, Satana. How have you been anyway?"

Cause he doesn't hold animosity towards her. It's just fun to poke around with the woman who can claim she's the Devil's daughter and get away with it. Since someone had the audacity to claim his moniker. The cage mewls again and a tiny black paw sticks its way out like it wants to escape. "Come come now, little one, you're almost home..."

Satana has posed:
"It's one of my creations," Satana says proudly. "It's a hobby of mine. Body modification. This started off as a bulldog, but with a bit of lengthening here, a bit of trimming there, and a bit of mixing in a few other creatures including from the depths of the sea and you get... well you get my lovely little Puffkins."

Puffkins.

She's calling Spiky McSpikeface 'Puffkins'.

"How nice of you to notice, Lucifer!" she says, brightening at the praise. "I spent quite a few seconds deciding on what to wear here tonight. Then realized it doesn't matter much since the charms lie beneath the clothing anyway." Like in the mental domination. Not those other charms your mind automatically leaped to, you pervs! "That being said, it is one of my favourites. I've been doing well. I've got the Wurlitzer finally up and armed so if any wannabe demon hunters come gunning for me, they're going to get the shock of their by-that-point very short lives."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Nick makes his way to the bar where Sinister's trying his hand at pouring a Guinness. The approach takes a bit longer as he seems to take a slightly inefficient route as he comes to the seats furthest from the devilish woman. The mispour of the first glass gets a small smile. It would be interesting to see how many tries it takes to get the standard look. But the musician's inclined to let Sinister off the hook. "...If you let it rest for a few the first glass should be fine. The certified pour marketing's more of a gimmick. Beer tastes the same."

Nick looks over to the dog once more, frowning slightly as Satana mentions body modification. But- maybe there is a plus to this? Doesn't the starting breed have a lot of health problems? "Did the adjustments help with the health issues that usually come with the bulldog?"

Sinister has posed:
Sinister considers the pint then looks at Nick under his brows, back to the pint once again. "Well, I shall rest the good head I gave you," he says this deadpan and sets it on the counter with a nice coaster underneath, all in white and gold. He then turns to the other things he was floating down with the air of a person determined to see if chemistry and mixology are parallel. But not before the mewl has caught his attention and he looks over toward the Devil and his crate o' cat. A long stare is given. "Well, I suppose I did coopt Eliza..." he murmurs, then looks up at the ceiling, as if there's guidance there.

Mixology commenses. He isn't terrible at it.

"Mystical splicing as opposed to crispr or X-technique, I'm going to guess. Were you trying for intimidating as all get out, or were you trying for a functional chimera?" He has to wonder this, given it does look like all the angly bits got shoved into the canine just for effect. "And that is a point, I doubt that the creature is asthmatic, at least. Gracious, but you're as bad as I am with names."

Lucifer has posed:
"Really? Fascinating. I'm glad my club can gain so much time out of you...outdone yourself on that one my dear." Lucifer says this, gives a smile, and then looks to the...dog? Creature. He's going to mentally stick with that one.

Sinister is there pouring beer, Nick is there to drink said beer, and then Lucifer just smirks. "When you're done playing mixologist, will you ready me a whiskey love?" Saying this before lifting the cage he's carrying and motions. "Just going to pop this upstairs. Shouldn't be too long."

Satana has posed:
"Well, I like to balance art with practicality," Satana says to Sinister. "But yes, mystical splicing both because I like spikes and because people tend to be afraid of them. Though I did use some technical equipment for the tedious bits. Technomancy is a bit of a hobby of mine, after all."

Her eyes slither to Nick, narrowing significantly. "What kind of a monster do you think I am!?" she practically hisses. "Do you think I'd want a pet that suffers just for my sense of aesthetics!?"

Beat.

She giggles then, winking at Nick. "Right, right. Demon. My bad. But no, this doesn't come with the health problems. It's a lot of work to make one of these and I don't want it to expire messily and have to go through all of that again. Besides Puffkins is so adorable! You should see him tear apart a rat. Three seconds, no rat. Just blood smear and bits of fur."

Juggernaut has posed:
The arrival of one Citizen Cain Marko is something of a visual spectacle as even at his most human..most restrained, he looms into and through the club like some sort of human wrecking ball of a man. He's dressed well enough. ONe might even call him 'yassified' with his dark glasses, red hair cut close along the sides but nicely tossled up top, huge brutish chin sporting a dusting of hair there and around his mouth and garments appropriately 'drip worthy' as they say for a place like this.

It's just the fact that he's..well..cutting a height over seven feet and probably a good four or so wide with his physique straining said garments to the point that they hug his torso and legs almost like saranwrap. There's no hiding this immensity and his size and neutral mood keeps people well away from him as he moves with purpose through the main hall of the nightclub. Effectively a freighter or aircraft carrier moving among fishing boats.

Though he's a distance away from the more..shall we say..unique individuals present, his very presence can be felt. A nountain range rising up on the landscape of any sort of mystic perceptions. The curling of the hair on the back of ones neck for any danger sense or (unwise) thrill seeking. He moves with a sort of bored, lazy confidence that is either oblivous to or uncaring of any looks that comes his way. A type of movement that suggests he's in no hurry to get to where he's headed..but you probably don't want to get in his way while he's en route.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
"I think there's a lot of leeway towards pet names." Nick comments, gesturing in the direction the Dog was currently being carted "That one was named Rupert Murdog."

Nick glances to the heady beer situated just out of reach and then back to the demonic duo, there's going to be a bit of a wait before the beer can be drinkable anyways.

To the confirmation that the health problems being eliminated, Nick gives a slow nod. Well, it may not be pretty but it did offset the result of a long period of selective breeding related health issues. "Ok so no breathing problems. That's a plus."

The movement of something large causes for Nick to turn his head, half expecting a large amount of equipment being rolled in. When he sees it to be human shaped, he blinks. While Nick's abilities might have some mystic properties to it, his general sense to other mystic entities nearby is far from reliable.

But his eyes sure as hell work. Damn.

If Nick didn't feel small being the smallest person around the bar yet, the approaching mountain might prove successful. Or at least provide some shade from the overhead lights.

Sinister has posed:
"Why do I sense a pun in the offing?" Sinister murmurs to himself, but floats down Lucifer's poison of choice and with his head tilted, floats one of the keggers that was brought in for the shelter crew to enjoy when they were helping with the event. Not all of them got taken and with a negligent twist of his hand in the air, he takes the top clean off it and peels all the sides down a measure so as to make a rim and all of that with the power of his mind. It's floated toward the other end of the bar, waiting for the gargantuan redhead to arrive fully into the room, like an aircraft carrier into the dry dock.

"I once toyed with a few cross-breeding experiments. There are a few things that should not be spliced -- I find it quite funny that the vast majority of those playing in that field at the current time, have no idea what each segment can do when not carefully controlled geneticswise. They keep making absurd mistakes and I'm not going to waste my time correcting them."

He looks over to the Elevator, then over to Nick with a rather deadpan unimpressed expression. "Rupert Murdog? Oh, for the love of cheese...."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer will be gone for a few more moments. Likely setting some things up in the penthouse.

Satana has posed:
"You'll find in particular that elephant and pig DNA just don't mix, Sinister, darling," Satana opines. "Ask me how I know this."

And then arrives the get of Cyttorak. Nick's sense of mystic entities may be as flaky as Satana's persona, but Satana's isn't. She sensed Cain's arrival and, indeed, recognized it in a flash. Her eyes light up. Literally. With the flames of Hell itself. As does her face. Figuratively, in a wide, predatory grin.

A former plaything is in the room.

She turns languidly, dropping all conversational threads into a tangled mess on the floor as she looks Cain over with frank appreciation.

"Oh my..." she purrs to herself. Loudly enough that anybody in about a two metre radius could clearly hear it. "That one could truly rock my world."

There is an expression 'undressing with the eyes'. It's accounted by most women as an intensely uncomfortable sensation when on the receiving end. Satana, naturally, would do no such thing to the weaker gender. She doesn't undress Cain with her eyes. She tears his clothing off with talons while staring hungrily at him. With her eyes. It's completely different.

"Well if it isn't Mephisto's greatest friend!" she says in greeting, voice sultry and so smoky it's making eyes water. "How have you been?"

Juggernaut has posed:
"Aint you got quite the crowd.."

At first Cain doesn't give much direct attention to Nick and Satana. Lucifer has already ducked out so he doesn't really focus his attention there but his eyes do move towards the offered drink as it is slide telekinetically down the bar to await his arrival.

"Business before pleasure tho. Don't you and I need to.."

Satana's voice cuts in and he fully turns his attention in her direction craning his eyebrows up above the rim of his dark shades and staring at her as his jaw works itself into a look of confusion and then..

Slowly growing recognition..

"What the.." he muses before giving Nick a long glance as well and then back to Satana once more. THen the fact that she just out and out references a less then...enjoyable..experience..jogs his memory the rest of the way.

"You.." he rumbles, a low hiss as he reaches forward and then brings his palm down onto the bar. The unfortunante drink shatters under the pressure of his hand though he, thankfully, doesn't go as far as attemptng to wreck the bar. Alas. Poor drink.

"What the hell are -you- doing here?" He pays no mind to her hungry...ah..dress-up-game with him with her eyes. As far as he's concerned..she wouldn't be the first. As he said, business before any sort of pleasure and from the looks of it..he's not exactly happy to see her, as the saying goes. Instead, the intensity of his gaze might as well shatter the shades right off his face.

"This some sort of a joke?" he asks, snapping his attention towards Sinister and, by proxy, poor Drago. Nevermind they likely have no idea waht he's going on about.

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
As Sinister registers the name and the play on it, Nick gives the broadest grin. It seems the musician finds great amusement in the name choice. "It appears rescues usually do naming themes for various litters. Rupert's the last one."

As the voice behind booms, Nick glances back his way, watching as Satana manages to upset the giant guy, blissfully unaware of the general waves of 'BIG MAGIC DANGER'.

When the glance lingers on him for a bit, the musician cocks his head to the side, reminiscent of the bird form that was present the night the Winternaut faced off against the Juggernaut. But other than the fact the guy was hella big, the lack of the usual gear makes Juggy hard to identify.

So-maybe the guy just catches a lot of reruns on TV or is a closet fan of vampire movies. Or maybe he was at one of the concerts. Is he about to ask? NO. But maybe?

Oooh. If it's the last one he hopes it's not someone pissed off about the tour cancelation. They were supposed to get a refund but- yeah.

The question asked almost gets a comment in return but he manages to hold back on voicing it. For one because he's not sure what is a joke. He assumes the guy is referring to Satana's comment. And honestly he's not sure.

Satana has posed:
"I'm here enjoying a concert, some companionship, and, well, to be honest, looking for..."

She snaps her fingers.

"I'm not the best one for telling you this, actually, so ..."

She pulls a phone out of her outfit (WHERE?!) and taps at the screen. Behind her a circle of flame appears, through which (from any angle, in a mind-bending bit of interdimensional geometry) a set of forlorn-looking musicians lay collapsed in chairs with their instruments nearby. Some horrifically slimy creatures slither into the scene to prod the musicians awake, making them groan in disgust and pain. They manage to get to their feet with their instruments, looking off-circle and then sighing piteously.

"Oh no, not again!" one of them moans.

But they start playing. (OOC: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vd7-DXeN_fg)

"What my boys are singing," Satana says then. "But you sound upset. What's wrong? Has somebody mistreated you?"

Sinister has posed:
"If there's amusement to be had, the joke is so inside, it might as well be in the closet, Cain. I have no idea..." but he's then just looking over at Satana with her displays of... music. You thought he was going to say something else there. And the whole thing reeks of a potentially sour encounter and frankly, though Juggernaut is often quite strangely jovial, he does take offense like there's no tomorrow. Sinister makes a fwip gesture from his waistcoat pocket however and produces a bankers draft.

It's flicked over to float up to Cain, but oddly enough bubbled in a reddish-purple bubble. Paper's fragile, ok?

"I'm going to posit at this juncture, that you have encountered Satana Helstrom before. She has a knack for making an impression, but it can often be the wrong one. If not the last one for some, I suspect..." deep breaths "...//Sanctuary// people. Because this place belongs to the actual devil and he has a lot of aces up his sleeve."

Juggernaut has posed:
Cain rears back slightly as the portal reveals the tormented individuals within. He's too furious to really process that clearly. But he doesn't like it. and the music selection just aggravates him even further.

When she then asks what's upset him he drops his mouth open into a look of utter shock and actually begins sputtering as if he's some sort of semi truck attempting to fire up for oe last hurrah on the road. "I -SOUND UPSET-?! -WHAT'S WRONG???-" he repeats, utterly flabbergasted.

Sinister's words cut in through his confused irateness though and he looks away from Satana just n time to see the money floated his way. Oh yes. Money transaction. That always calms him down. Cash.

"She interferred with a job I was on and dropped me into, I dunno, -hell-, I guess, with that same sort of portal trick." he explains as he grabs for the check with sausage thick fingers.

"Cyttorak thought it was funny and so infused me with so much power I started ripping the place to pieces but when I tumbled back -here- I was confused and out of my head for -days-! And I lost that job contract!"

Oh yeah and Spider-Man was there. That was an annoyance as well.

"I -should- be trying to paste her right now. I've dropped buildings on people for a whole lot less!"

He snaps his gaze to NIck Drago abruptly, distrust and mild paranoia driving him to snap, "And -who're- you? ..You look familiar.."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
When the little flame portal opens up, Nick briefly glances over. But as his glance moves away, he registers what he saw. Eyes widening, he looks back over to the portal, jaw dropping. It's kind of similar to coming across a wreck. The general concept of what's going on so horrible that you just can't look away. Having all choice ripped away from you is a dreadful thing.

So focused on the visual that he ends up missing most of what the others are saying. That is until the blur of movement from the much larger man ends up triggering a long learned response. Arms fly up in a bit of a defensive position, covering vitals and exposing an old scar on the lower right forearm. But as there's no actual attack following with it, the musician pauses, peering around the hands to the question. Okay. The incredibly large angry guy is NOT in a random pummeling mood. GOOD TO KNOW.

As for why he's familiar.

"Ah." The hands lower, "...Nick Drago. I'm an entertainer. So... music, movies, tv. Take your pick for why I look familiar."

Satana has posed:
"I only asked you to step aside for FIVE MINUTES in that job!" Satana huffs, cancelling the music with a single swipe of her finger in the air and looking mightily miffed. "Since you were intractable, I just set you aside for a while so I could go get my tome. Once I got it, I brought you back. Is it my fault that you're confused by a brief trip across dimensions and a return to the exact place you started from!?"

Her arms cross and the princess of Hell is beginning to look a little horny. And not in the good way. In the way that involves literal horns starting to poke out of her forehead, curling like rams' horns beside her head. A second voice is added to her sultry, dulcet contralto, the one designed to curl up in the most pleasant part of the human brain and tease it, bringing in a darker, lower voice almost, but not quite, exactly one octave below it, harsh and growly, designed seemingly to instead wrap around the fear centres of the aforementioned brain.

"If it weren't for professional courtesy with your patron, I'd have half a mind to send you there again, for being so ungrateful!"

Sinister has posed:
Wait for it, waaaait for it....

"Satana Helstrom!" It's a dad voice. Well, actually it's a Sinister's voice, but he has got a knack for sounding commanding sometimes. "Most. /Most/ individuals under the sun, have issues with dimensional vagarity and causality. Getting your lack of knickers in a twist over them and getting all -horny- just indicates that nobody ever showed you how to control your temper /nearly/ as well as a nice brought up young half-demon should." He sniffs, rises from behind the bar by floating and selects the cocktail he made and the whiskey he poured, not one inch of him displaying an iota of fear. Nothing in hell will touch him, without -very- strong due consideration after all. He's got a hallpass. It's annoying.

"Cain, you've been through a lot worse. And honestly, I did throw in some extra for the other night, so some of it balances out. Mostly, I think it's the principle of the thing, no? I would be annoyed, too. Please don't break my mortal aquaintence though, they're extremely hard to put back together again."

Then he turns to the room. "I expect this place to be in the -exact- condition that I left it in tonight, do you hear me? Or I'll be having words..."

... ... !

And that said? He actually does walk off to the elevator with his drinks!

Juggernaut has posed:
"Oh." says Cain, looking rather mollified and satisfied with Nick's answer. Looks like he's off the hook. Satana, however, gets a sneer again and her casual treatment of the situation just causes his ire to rise again. One almost see the boiling steam rising up inside of him though Sinister's voice does cut in to slow him down before he reaches any sort of volcanic fury. He balls up the check and roughly stuffs it into a pocket on his jacket before rounding his fury back onto Satana, albiet it is somewhat restrained compared to before.

"Cut the crap, sister. You aint got nothing I aint seen before and better of..and I mean that in more ways then one..."

His eyes rove over her form, head moving in a deliberate up and down look of appraisal that would make MIranda Priestly nod in approval at his scatching, scornful body language.

"I don't care if you were Dazzler herself on the way to a farewall tour. You get in my way when I say no, I lay hands on you. You're lucky he and I got a working agreement or I'd be stuffing your head into the bar right now. So I won't deal with you here."

Turns out, yes, it is indeed the principle of it. Most things are, with Juggernaut. He's so powerful that a trip to hell, heck even if she -had- of left him there, would have just been a mild inconvienence. He's experienced worse exiles.

And even conquered those realms, making more trouble for those who sent him there, as a result.

Doesn't mean he forgives the trip. "I see you again, I'll deal with you then. And let those musicians go. Aint nobody got time for your nonsense." he finalizes before he turns slowly to prepare to take his leave. Nick, at the last, gets a final look:

"Yeah, nice songs."

Satana has posed:
"Oh, I can't do that. If I let them go, they'll be back in the flaming pits. They're in Hell, you see. Where they are now? They're getting respite from their eternal punishment. I have a soft spot."

She lets that sit there a while.

"For musicians, I mean. I've got Jim Morrison too."

She lets that sit a moment.

"Yes, I make him change his pants. That habit of his of wearing the same leather pants for years is off-putting!"

Beat.

"But his voice... Oh my!"

She lets out a long fangirl sigh and the horns curl back into her head.

"But you may deal with me however you see fit. Just ... be aware it may not go the way you want." Her eyes light up, as does her face, one metaphorically, the other literally. The obvious ones in each case. "Because I like being smacked around. It's ... enthralling!"

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
As the staff sets out to rip up the temporary flooring to expose the actual floor underneath, Nick glances over to them and then back to the others. A hand gestures to the work going on. "...That was already planned, they can continue to do that."

Just in case someone felt the need to stop the work needed in order to follow through on the 'exact condition that I left it' condition Sinister stated.

Juggernaut's comment causes for Nick to look back to him. Oh? "Thanks." Nick replies, giving a small smile to the comment. Forced or not. It was still nice of him to say.

He looks back between the two and as Satana mentions that the musicians are being treated better under her care, he tilts his head. "They still sounded like they were hurting." He comments, smile fading.

Juggernaut has posed:
Cain scrunches his face up in disapproval. He seems less creeped out then disgusted and certainly not attracted to her provocative words. She started off on too wrong of a foot with him for anything close to that.

"You'll go crazy trying to figure out any truth or meaning to her words. Don't bother. I done seen enough claims of 'This is hell' and 'No this is hell' and 'No this is hell.' to last a few lifetimes..." and he's possibly immortal.

He sneers and waves a hand dismissively as he looks towards Nick, "Unless you got a way to snatch whatever she's got going on from her, don't bother trying to suss it out. If it's even -half- true or accurate who knows. Magic's and the supernatural's crazy like that.."

He gives Satana a final scornful look and then shakes his head and turns to leave and move past the construction beginning. He'll have to find a proper place to cool off and re-evaluate everything. Probably some dive bar with drinks far less refined then here.

Satana has posed:
"Of course they're hurting," Satana says, staring at Nick like he's suddenly grown a third eyeball. "Which part of 'Hell' was unclear? They're in their eternal reward. A life of sin leads to an eternity of suffering. If you have a problem with that, I suggest you take it up with the Whoreson Upstairs. It's His rules. I just like musicians, so I give them a softer time of it. But believe me, if I wasn't there having them in my private little orchestra, they would be wisps capable only of one thing: feeling pain."

Her voice and mannerisms are insouciant but the perceptive (so probably not Cain) might notice a troubled look in the eye. Something about this is not sitting well.

"But it really doesn't bother me," she lies through her teeth. They're in Hell now, so they exist only to serve at my pleasure."

Yeah, that's not sitting well either.

Thankfully Cain distracts her from accidentally revealing more about herself than she's comfortable with.

"Goodbye, get of Cyttorak. It was a pleasure to see you as always!" she calls out, that introspection vanishing in a puff of virtual smoke. "I look forward to seeing you again."

Phantasm (Drago) has posed:
Nick is quiet. Cain's advice is, somewhat sound. He's not a demon and Hell is definitely not his area of expertise. But the owner of this club is. And as much as he doesn't like it, it's not his jurisdiction. Well, if what he can patrol could be considered his jurisdiction.

Not happy with the situation and the glass that contained his drink long since smashed, there's really nothing to encourage him to stay at the bar. There is a shake of the head as Nick gets up from his seat to go move towards the stage. Might as well get some work done.