Owner	Pose
Lucifer	Lux is lively on this Sunday evening, but that really isn't anything new to Lucifer. People are trying to get their last licks in before the weekend is officially over and they have to go back to work. There are people on the dance floor, people sitting in booths to watch dancers in cages, the top bar is near full of people sitting and drowning themselves in whatever liquor suits them. Perhaps some keep their eyes out for the Master of Ceremonies. The intricately dressed man with slicked back black hair, ocean blue eyes, and tonight has gone for his usual black three piece with red tie and matching kerchief in his left breast pocket. Lucifer scans the area while Roxie - his favorite wench - walks by him with an already prepared glass of whiskey. Taking it with a mouthed 'thank you', he then shifts to his perch. That little piece of alcove right by the top of the stairs that lets him see all of his club in one fell swoop of a gaze. It's here he lingers for the moment, just watching and drinking.
Sinister	The elevator dings, disgorging not from the penthouse but from the parking level, a figure dressed in black armani, black shirt, silver cuffs and immaculate wing-tips. Not a hair is out of place on Nathaniel Essex, as he adjusts those cuffs a moment, then tosses a set of keys at the barman, who neatly puts them beneath. He trots down the stairs, crossing the dancefloor to the alcove closest to the piano, smiling to one of the other waitresses who nods to him as he settles himself, undoing the buttons of his suit to sit, with a flick of fabric. His eyes lift to the alcove by the stairs, a grin forms as he spots the Host and then he's checking his phone, the reflection of the screen painting on pale, but not chalk white skin. The joys of being a shapeshifter.
Crowley	One moment Crowley isn't in the Lux, then suddenly he is! A well dressed man smoking a cigar is now sitting at one of the bar's stools watching the club's occupants. Crowley's eyes settle on Lucifer after a moment with a grin, exhaling a bit of smoke towards the ceiling.
Lucifer	Eyes. Lucifer feels them. Not only from Nathaniel, who gains a smile and a wave from the Devil. Elsewhere, and his drink is sipped while his eyes scan until they land on the man with the cigar. He smirks. A familiar face, for Lucifer, is a rare thing indeed. At least this one is usually on his side. In a sense. There's a glance down at Nathaniel and he makes some sort of head motion to ask the man to come upstairs and then pivots and slips around behind the bar to approach where Crowley sits. "Well well. Aren't you a sight... Crowley."
Sinister	Sinister catches the hint, eyes lifting, pale grey and wolfish. He glances lingeringly at the piano, then makes his way up the stairs around to the gallery overlooking the dance floor. His approach to the bar is slow, offering a nod or two here and there, a smile for someone or other and a gesture to the waitress that came by him down /there/ that indicates the bar. He's tapping out a cigarette by the time he arrives there, sliding in at the end.
Crowley	Crowley emits a comically evil laugh, "Luci, it's been a while. I'm top salesman now and Hell's a bloody mess." He takes a drag from his cigar, "Nice club, I've been meaning to pay you a visit for a bit. Before you turned the lights on this place no one knew where you went. But I'm not here to ruin my pants begging you to come back. I've just got a bit of free time on my hands."
Lucifer	Lucifer smirks a little. "Well, even after trying to keep my profile low, it didn't quite suit me. This..." He indicates the club, "is just my style." Then his gaze shifts towards Nathaniel as the man makes his way over to the bar. "Nice to see a familiar and friendly face though. Can I get you a drink?" Asking this while setting a cognac - neat - in front of Nathaniel. "Also, please meet Nathaniel. My partner in crime - and in life. Nathaniel, this is Crowley."
Sinister	"Now that's a significant name if ever there was one," Sinister murmurs, with a 'thank you' mouthed to Lucifer for the cognac. His cigarette is lit, the case of them set on the bar in common access range, a long drag taken and a smoke-ring blown after. "A pleasure, Crowley. Isn't Hell always a blood mess, though?" a sip is taken of the cognac, sucking his teeth afterwards. "This makes a pleasant change though. Usually it's the other lot that come pestering around here." He glances up at the ceiling by indicator.
Crowley	Crowley shrugs, "Whatever you recommend from the top shelf, I'll drink it." Then to Sin, "It is always a bloody mess. I wanted to reassure our former king that he's got nothing to worry about. Hell is just the way he left it." Crowley grins, "If things ever got peaceful down there, it wouldn't be hell anymore, and that's scary right?"
Lucifer	"Some people use the phrase 'When Hell Freezes Over'... I think we're more concerned with Hell going all quiet and peaceful..." Lucifer quips and then nods to Crowley before turning and grabbing a bottle of a dark liquor from the back shelf, pours two fingers worth neat and then sets the glass in front of Crowley. "Nathaniel is right as well. I've seen more of my ilk in the last few months than I ever did while reigning downstairs." He chuckles then.
Sinister	"Oh, I imagine so. Mind, when I went there, it was eerie. And I got the impression I was not quite seeing all of what I was seeing. I might have to try and expand my mind sometime down there... see what happens. A million screams in absolute silence and the constant ash-fall around the spire of the endless city of Cacophany was ... probably something Dante missed from his cliffnotes." Nathaniel takes another sip of Cognac. "It was Michael last time. By the by, I do not like Michael. He..." he shakes his head faintly "...niggles at my urges to lambast."
Crowley	Crowley takes a sip from his glass with practiced flair, "Well it's not a stretch to imagine that word's started to spread about your club. Get ready for the newly damned and the Luci Groupies to come in here expecting royal treatment. That'll be a laugh. Might even get the odd hunter trying to bag your head for a trophy." Crowley nearly stops halfway between a drag from his cigar now, "..wait has that happened yet?"
Lucifer	"I don't like Michael either. I surely did NOT like all of his niggling last night..." Lucifer comments towards Nathaniel and then shifts his gaze to Crowley. He reaches to take up one of the community cigarettes and lights it. "I mean, the club has been open for a while, and while I am not...quite open...to everyone and their buddy who step into the club there are those that know who I am. There are others who suspect, or make a joke out of it." He shrugs, snapping his fingers to produce hellfire and light his cigarette. "I've summoned a demon or two to come help with some things too. I guess in some long round about way, this has become more of a respite of sorts. There are only a handful I would turn away without a second thought."
Sinister	"If it has, I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for that moment. That would've been a moment of 'Ow, you bloody sod' and then a flying hunter smacking into the far wall. That would mostly have been a sartorial tragedy, if they brought guns. He doesn't like his shirts getting ruined..." Sinister chuckles at the memory of that having happened once or two, looks to Crowley, then gives a grunt into his cognac. "Luci groupies. Od's teeth."
Crowley	Crowley grins, "Oh I didn't invent that term either. There's still quite a few hellions who can't get used to the way things are. Change can be rough but it's been a while. The moaning from them sometimes rises an octave above the usual ambient screaming. But it's Hell, what can you do?" He laughs and takes another sip, "Most hunters don't even know who I am, at least not by name. My line of work doesn't put me in the crosshairs very often. Most of the faces I meet are desperate, stupid ones. The product I'm selling is never worth it and they know it. But people are always so sensation deprived, and dissatisfied with their lives, that seven to ten years of fantasy seems worth an eternity of abject terror, and pain. At least in the moment. The regret and fear on their faces later is always worth the wait."
Lucifer	An inhale of his cigarette is taken and then he glances between the two of them. "Well, I do hope you're still getting a decent amount of folk who want to sell their soul for their fantasies or dreams." Lucifer offers here and then shrugs his shoulders. Though he does sort of side eye Nathaniel a bit more. "Please do not speak such things into existence..." He says this and then grins. "So what else is on your agenda while you're topside, Crowley?"
Sinister	Sinister's eyes narrow a bit, a hint of red in the core of the pale greys as he gives Crowley a fuller attention. It's a penetrating regard, but not a threatening one. Curiosity has been piqued it seems! He looks from Crowley to Lucifer where it lingers a moment longer then back, leaning his elbow on the bar and leaning forth to shave ash from his cigarette cherry, making a cone of the end beore returning it to his lips for another flare of red that makes the shadow in the depths of his gaze brighter. "Is there a subsect of demons that handles those kinds of contracts? I initially met Lucifer, because I came seeking to strike a deal and I did it with a semi-open mind. When all is said and done, I'm a salt of the earth atheist, but the world is full of mysteries-- so I did ponder if he actually did have the power to help me with my particular problem. Turns out he did, but it wasn't the way either of us anticipated." He flicks ash again, which somehow floats to the ashtray neatly. "And if I do die, I have absolutely no doubts that somehow I -will- end up in hell. He'd find me. And take me there himself. But it sounds to me as if you have the ability to bend reality, which is -fascinating-..." a glance is shot to Lucifer again. "Sorry, I went and pounced on that particular bone."
Crowley	Crowley shrugs and takes another drag off of what was once a fairly long cigar, and is not nearly a stub, "Oh just a soul to collect tonight. When the clock strikes midnight there is a soul I have been wanting to nab myself for a few hours short of a decade now." He glances down at his gold Rolex, "The second that first howl ruins whatever sordid thing he's doing then fills the air? The loser who just wanted to be a.." Crowley switches to a mocking tone, "..tough gangster, make me a gangster like in the movies!' ..will squeal. It makes the hounds hungrier." He turns to Sin, "And yes, reality bends, your imagination is the limit.. well except for that seven to ten years bit. It's like trading most of the rest of your life for a short sprint where you live out a montage of your wildest dreams. The 'being torn apart by hellhounds' is in the fine print, but it's right there in the contract, which they get to see, read, and sign. But no one ever reads it, at least no one I've ever dealt with."
Lucifer	"Ah. Now I wonder which hellhound is taking the job tonight. They're such splendid creatures. I would love to see them at work...but I would not wish to hinder anything. So I will just tune in..." Lucifer glances to Nathaniel then. "Could also tune you in, if you wish, my dearest. Let you hear the glorious sounds of our friend's work.." He grins then. "Also, Crowley, when you're here your drinks will be free of charge." A card is produced from thin air. Black on one side, white on the other. A feather etched into both sides and within the feather it just reads 'Lucifer'. "They'll begin to recognize you after a few times, but just keep that card on you and the club is yours to lavish yourself with food and drink whenever you want." He smiles. "Nathaniel, I need to go see a thing about another thing, so I'm going to go upstairs. I love you and shall see you soon?"
Sinister	"Oh, now, that -is- interesting. The bargaining power of a soul, I suppose..." Sinister leans on his elbow a little, providing a forward aspect, a greater portion of his attention to Crowley. "...I suppose when you split an infinite resource of power, you still have an infinite amount. I could see the energy of a traded soul being capable of tearing the fabric of reality and you'd still have an infinite amount left over, to pay the piper with at the end of the alotted span. It's just harnessing that energy that provokes thought... it took me forever to figure out how to replicate tesseract energy, but I managed it in the end. I suspect it's similar, given the origin of such energy is ... rather specific." He blinks, frowns and shakes his head. "I do apologise, I just went off on a tangent there. But the mind /does/ like to riddle these things out." The man might just be a genius, or pathologically insane. Perhaps both? His attention is quick to move to Lucifer though, giving a rather genuine smile to the devil himself. "Of course. I love you, too Morgenstern. Wickedness and all. I'll join you... when it's safe to do so." He inclines his head, watching the devil retreat...
Sinister	Added: "I would also love to observe the hunt, when the hunt is on. I've a feeling the true potential of hellhounds is something I've yet to observe."
Crowley	Crowley chuckles darkly at Sinister's interest, "Better hypothesis than I ever came up with. Once the 'client's time is up, they suffer a gruesome, painful death, and then they get to meet their arbiter one more time, usually the demon who offered them the deal. That's who drags their now twisted soul into the pit where.. well.. no more spoilers." He grins, "But I'm sure you can piece the rest together right? Still you know more about death now than the ignorant masses around you. Most people would rather daydream about Heaven if you keep your ears open long enough to eavesdrop. The lot of them doubt they're good enough to get in and they're probably right. But are they bad enough to get to Hell? If you sign a contract with me it becomes a moot point." He finishes his drink, "As for watching? Why not? You're in good with Lucifer and it sounds like he couldn't care less. He's not the king anymore but most of us demons would, out of habit, likely defer to him." He clears his throat, "I don't defer as a rule but we all have our exceptions to things." He finds an ashtray and puts out his cigar now that it's barely a cigar anymore, "Have you ever seen an interrogation? I'm talking about some third world, fascist dictatorship level, hand makeover kind of interrogation."
Sinister	"Mmmmmm," to the former, and perhaps to a good deal of what was said there. There's also a snort and a voiceless chuckle. "You have no idea," murmured, though it's then made with a handwave and a stubbing out of his own cigarette, holding his glass up for a refill of cognac. It isn't long before he's got a nice full tumbler again. "I can piece a lot of things together, yes..." is continued conversationally. That penetrating regard once more settles, fixes for a few moments, before he looks askance to his glass, taking it up to wet lips. "Quite a number of times. I've been the instigator of several. Once even, a fully observed and recorded vivisection."
Crowley	Crowley grins, "Good then watching what happens to him won't likely be as much of a shock, if it is at all. He'll be screaming and making sounds he never knew he could make. Bloody murder's an understatement. These hounds are bred to kill slowly, no quickies, no mercy. And right now he's likely doing one of two things: If he's already started to regret his deal, then he's watching the clock, probably scoured Google for hours trying to see if there's a way to get out of a crossroads deal. He might even be praying for the first time in his life, or he's found a religion to his liking, hoping that some merciful deity will swoop in last second to take his soul to Heaven. OR.." His grin spreads wider, "He's gotten comfy over the years, may not think much at all about his end of the bargain, might have even convinced himself that it was all a dream, and that he achieved his dreams on his own. The deniers are more entertaining when the hound's at their door. It's so sudden, no climactic build up, counting down the seconds. Oh yes the paranoid ones are fun when you're new to this, but the ones in denial get this comical expression of realization on their face once reality sets in. You won't see the hound but he will. No one around him will even hear the thing. All they'll know is that this once proud, tough criminal, has found a sudden lack of bladder control, and stormed out of his office, hideout, whatever he calls it. His body will later be found torn apart. Just don't stick around if you hear sirens, can't save you from murder suspicion." Crowley smirks.
Sinister	"That's sympathetic magic, isn't it? Cross-roads deals. Do the mojo, work the rite, but it has to be where you could go in multiple directions. Makes it easier to bend reality, or rather, make the magic obey the laws it's bound to." Sinister sounds matter of fact when he proposes this supposition. "I'm still attempting to understand the laws that govern the mystical, given whom I associate with. It's an interesting learning curve..." There's a pause here, one that's ended with a chuckle. "You know you could break into Apple contracts. Put it all in the small print of the licensing agreements and you'd make a killing if you can take cross-roads to major street intersections. Nobody -ever- reads that fine print, either." He gets comfortable, leaning against the bar though, Crowley now enjoying his undivided attention and he genuinely seems to be listening, too. "I've seen the shape of hounds. Only when Lucifer brings them directly. I've heard the baying though and I /can/ actually feel them. I don't hear them with my ears though. It's... a very unique experience. And thusly will the world be a better place, for one less idiot. Though I would wager, it isn't just the blow-hards that want to change their fate just a little, the easy way."
Crowley	Crowley shrugs, "If it could work that way, we'd have done it already. But I'm sure there's a witch or sorcerer somewhere who'd just love to work off of that premise. I'm still waiting for someone 'smart' to sell their soul for Superman's powers, or to become the next Merlin with 'epic wizard magic', or whatever slang people are using now." "Either way I get all sorts in this business, all walks of life. You wouldn't think that a wealthy man, or woman, who seemingly has everything they could want, would be willing to shorten their lives, and end up in Hell for anything. But they do, oh they do, and it's usually for love, a cure for some derangement that they don't want to risk going to a psychiatrist for, or something else along those lines."
Sinister	"Indeed," Sinister replies to that rather shortly, glancing off to the elevator that services both the parking level and the penthouse. He laughs to himself, again rather voicelessly, and shakes his head. "I imagine that you haven't been creative enough. I could probably help, in that regard." This is offered in such a blase manner, that it seems nearly ludicrous. Sinister looks back at Crowley, smiles and proffers his hand. "A more honest kind of introduction, I suppose. Doctor Nathaniel Essex, aka: Sinister to a good many of the world that are in the know. Immortal."
Crowley	Crowley glances down at the offered hand and awkwardly takes it, "Don't shake many hands. Yours might be the first in two hundred years at least. I lost count. Being immortal you probably know the feeling, at least in regards to something else. Come to think of it, I've never had an immortal bargain with me. That would require one hell of a sale on my part wouldn't it." He grins, "Although a vampire wanting to become human again for a decade wouldn't be unheard of. I might try that sometime.."
Sinister	Sinister chuckles. "You would have to find the right one. The ones around here..." he waggles his free hand around, complete with cognac "...are a hard sell. Most don't have a soul. It's something to do with the hellmouth underneath sunnydale. So, it would be pointless to try." The shake is firm, not soft in any way. But you can tell a lot from a handshake; this one does not crush, but it does test. Holds just long enough to be assertive. There is no lack of confidence in this particular fellow, that is obvious. "It is a thing. Yes. Less about the handshakes in my case, so much as it is giving a metaphorical damn. It's part of the reason I'm with your former King. It is a strange slice of abnormal normality, to be partnered with another immortal. We all have our little quirks, no? For us, it's an uninterrupted breakfast, with all the trimmings, before doing what we do." He sniffs, eases back, relinquishes the handshake. "It's actually refreshing to see the other side of the equasion coming to pay a visit. I am, honestly, quite sick of the celestials. They've tried to kill me at least once. Didn't work, obviously."
Crowley	Crowley smirks, "It was a joke.. mostly. Vampires are a strange lot either way, if none of them have a soul, the bargain wouldn't have any effect since there's nothing to bargain for, in that you are correct. A vampire -with- a soul might be a different story. What's his name? It's the most ironic joke in the world I heard. But vampire drama isn't my game so I never bothered to look into it, could even be a rumor. Shows you how often I engage in small talk doesn't it?" Crowley grins again, "When it comes to... celestials, just remember not to piss them off. They get hands on or they strip. You don't want to see one of them naked, trust me, you might just go blind."
Sinister	Sinister opens his mouth, shuts it, opens it again, shuts it again, then just points at the elevator and up, with his eyebrows raised. Because Lucifer Morningstar, for all that he's the Devil himself, is a fallen angel and technically speaking... a celestial. Then there's an odd little snicker. "I had a hell of a lot of fun with Castiel, though. So I'll take that as a genuine warning." He pauses, grins. "I'd take it as more of a challenge though. Snag an immortal, see what kind of deal you could spin. Start small, because there are a few vampires with souls about. They're an odd breed. Met one that was intent on being all engimatic on me..." he scoffs, then because it's a topic. "What could you have offered me, I wonder?"
Crowley	Crowley follows Sinister's eyes, then the irony dawns on him, "Ah." Then he leaves it at that, moving on to the next topic, "I've only heard of one vampire with a soul, never met him, don't know much about it. I just heard that he used to be some big bad nightmare once upon a time. I didn't care at the time so I never tried to dig anything else up. Still if it's true, he might just be someone I should meet, if only to test the waters. A vampire in Hell would be a novelty. The blokes down there would forget they were supposed to be miserable.. at least for a while. Every torturer down there would want a piece of him, assuming we're talking about the same vampire. Either way it doesn't surprise me that he'd try to act mysterious, vampires love pulling that crap, as if they don't consider that whoever they're speaking with might just be as much of an enigma as they are. It must have cracked you up inside at the very lest. I don't get.. 'out' much so I tend not to stick around if a deal's not being struck." "As for what I'd offer you? I tend not to be the one offering. Typically a deal is initiated by the one selling their soul. As demons we can be summoned, but there is a particular ritual that can only be done at a crossroads, which calls out to any demon about who trucks in souls. The one in closest proximity usually gets there first. If they don't know what they want then they either die a horrible death or the demon will try to coax their desires out of them. It depends on how hot headed, or shortsighted said demon is. The point however, is that there's usually not much haggling unless it's one hell of a soul being offered, like a world leader, major celebrity, or powerful magician of some sort. Rarely is someone given more than ten years, in fact most don't even get that, but in special cases someone might be allowed fifteen. So in conclusion? We can offer -anything-, the haggling bit is usually about time. I've never had anyone ask for something that couldn't be granted by the deal, so as far as I know there isn't any need to offer you anything but time, assuming your soul was worth bending the rules a bit."
Sinister	"Well, you now have open invite to hang around Lux, with a permanent free pass to the top shelf if you want. Never let it be said that my partner isn't occasionally rediculously generous, it's always with a motive behind it." Sinister observes. "Deal or no deal. Occasionally, it's just good to get inspiration--" he glances at the masses of mortals enjoying the hell out of themselves on the dance floor. But he also looks at one young woman giving the evil eye to a cluster on the dance floor, envy in her regard. And another young man who appears to be just shy of lascivious intent with a group of girls in the midst of the song, lust incarnate. And back, specifically, to Crowley. He smiles, again. "Could you end the existence of another immortal, with the power of the deal? That's the question of the century. At least I know the one I think of, only -thinks- he's a god."
Crowley	Crowley considers the question for a second, just a brief second, "Never tried but there's no reason to think I couldn't. Never, in my entire career, have I ever heard of anything being impossible, and there's been some pretty mad requests. I remember an old man selling his soul to bring back his dead dog. Another asked for her husband back from the grave. What I'm saying is that death isn't a barrier, so immortality wouldn't be either."
Crowley	Crowley adds, "Now explaining to everyone you know why your husband has been resurrected is a personal problem."
Sinister	"Shouldn't be. Not wouldn't be. There's always that one kicker, that makes you pause and go 'Huh'." Sinister laughs though at the humour being offered, nodding. "It's good to know. Therefore in theory, all it would take is enough energy from the specific soul involved, to fundamentally alter reality. Of course, it could always end up with just a decade and some change, of absence." The doctor raps his knuckles on the bar at the end of that, downing his cognac and sliding off of the bar stool. He inclines his head to Crowley. "It was a pleasure. I mean that. I find my current existence is filled with peculiar ironies. After all, here I am, speaking to a cross-roads demon about making the world a better place, at the cost of my own soul. In most books, that would paint me a hero, to which I laugh, heartily." He gestures to the young woman that was glaring envy. "She's ripe for the picking. All it would take would be a subtle suggestion and a how-to guide. I can see her thoughts, painted on a canvas and my word, there's juicy self-loathing to exploit... /do/ have a good night. I have to make sure him up there," he glances upward, likely to the penthouse "...hasn't have a silly moment with a Daemon. He gets into all kinds of oddness, you know. Tah-tah for now..." and he makes his way toward the elevator and afterwards... up.
Crowley	Crowley smirks, "I'll send someone to watch her until she leaves. I've got a midnight scream session to attend. I'd tip my hat if I still wore one. Either way it's been a pleasure, meeting you, and seeing the old king again. I'm sure we'll all be bargaining, perhaps not in souls, but there's possibility between the three of us, given the right incentives obviously." And with that Crowley vanishes.