Owner	Pose
Sinister	The trick to a good relationship is ever evolving. Most people never find their balances right and companionship is forever derailing into arguments and disassociation. But generally speaking, what's rather important, outside of communication, clear boundaries, understanding of the particular love language, wants and needs of the other is... Ambience. Well, that's not really the nitty gritty of it, more that it's the setting of a tone. The penthouse is lit by a myriad of candles, of various different shapes and sizes, from tiny tea, to towering church, set on coasters and holders, plates and spikes and all of them shining like tiny stars. There's an aroma, too, an awkwardness to it in that some has that edge of being a tiddly bit burned. English breakfast being cooked and not by the usual cleverness and flare. Maybe the scientific method doesn't sell everything. "Oh, for the love of... /toast/ it's supposed to... how did you end up being burned? I swear, I put you in for two minutes, you give me one. I put you down for three, this is four."
Lucifer	The other trick to a good relationship is communication. The two of them have their moments, but never in such a way that they haven't been able to talk out issues, set expectations, limits, boundaries, and all other checks and crannies therein. The Devil has no idea what he's walking into when he walks into it. A glance around as he spies all the sorts of candles that are lit among the penthouse and made to look like tiny sparkling stars. When he scents the air, he finds it holding that tinge of burnt which draws him towards the kitchen to find Nathaniel arguing with - or perhaps more properly yelling at - the toaster. "They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over again expecting different results. I think a part of the definition includes yelling at inanimate objects, especially in a way where one might think you're waiting for an answer..." He chuckles and draws closer, looking over the array of cooking being done. "What's the occasion?"
Sinister	Sinister isn't so much snuck up on, as he is juggling. When doing a careful and pernicketty experiment, one must also be able to juggle, but Essex was the last of the great Bachelors for the longest time. He had people for the cooking, the general housekeeping and the concepts of exactly how much baking soda or washing starch to buy and use, etcetera. And then, with perfections in other regards, he no longer -had- to eat, so didn't. And apparently grilling the tomatos and the bacon and sizzling the sausages and eggs at the same time as making toast and simmering baked beans, has him -- "Augh, I forgot the black pudding!" which hastily gets added into the eggs and sausage pan, after some hasty spatula work and an inability to NOT get egg whites on them. He hrumphs at himself, sighs, steps back and stares at everything conspiring to make it all just a little bit off. "I don't know. Talking to machinery can sometimes be more productive than talking to people in my case -- but there's no intelligence in the toaster, it just made me feel better. I need to re-invent that, make it do perfectly each time, or learn the exact milibar that makes perfectly browned." He looks around at Lucifer, looking a little on the put-out side. "I was trying to offer an unexpected surprise, but it turned into a comedy of errors."
Lucifer	Lucifer smiles, genuinely so, and takes a moment to divert the scientist's attention away from the comedy of errors for a gentle kiss. "Color me surprised. And flattered. Truly." He offers. "So shall I leave you to it, with your yelling at the machines and trying to get everything cooked up, or shall I lend you a hand? Your choice. My gentle offer." Saying this much even as he steps back a little to perhaps either watch how this all plays out, help if asked, or if he's told to bugger off and let Nathaniel finish it all in some sort of lonely peace, he'll do that too.
Sinister	"At this point, I would be a fool to be too proud for the help." Sinister replies to that, handing over the spatula with only a little hesitation. There's room enough in the kitchen for two so he crouches down to eye the grill, staring at the popping and the spatting within a moment, before some staring at the toaster has him measuring a very careful 3.25 minutes on the dial. Fresh bread is placed in and the downward depression of the timer handle is done with a precise, forceful click. Then it's back to bacon staring, until he deems it THE EXACT moment to flip them for optimal crispiness. "Sometimes, it's the thought that counts, right? I refuse to be fearful of the simple act of cooking for us. I thought, what could possibly go wrong, this is just an english breakfast? Little did I anticipate the inspiration that's required with the perspiration."
Lucifer	"You would likely excel at baking. Baking is a science. Cooking is an art and often requires being able to think on your feet. To know that the toaster is going to betray you at a minute, or that the egg yolk might just burst." Lucifer smiles, taking the spatula as it's offered over and leans in to kiss his lover's cheek. "It is definitely the thought that counts, and not all is lost. At least you didn't set the penthouse on fire... or burn anything...well." He motions. "Bread is replaceable...and perhaps the cat will like it. Or the raven." He goes to flipping eggs and black pudding with expertise, but no flair. He's not trying to outshine the thoughtfulness of Nathaniel.
Sinister	"Baking?" This after a pause to consider the kiss as he straightens from the bacons. He gives the archangel a little half-embarassed smile, then returns the kiss, which lingers a little to the tune of several heart beats. "Chaos theory, versus orderly chain reactions. I think I could get behind that and possibly confuse a lot of people if we end up having any kind of meeting and I bring along baked goods for a snack. I feel there would be staring and checking for hidden cameras..." an arm slips around, pulls hip to hip and he watches the art of sausage and eggs, wishing it were more applicable to methodology. "I'd put money on the raven liking it. Wait..." he blinks "...we have a raven?"
Lucifer	"Sort of? We have something that keeps taking away what I leave it on the balcony and sometimes leaving trinkets of it's own..." Lucifer explains this and then gives a chuckle. "You can bring something to the next meeting with Nick and his manager." Then he thinks on it. "Speaking of, I think they've gone off to Ireland... if you're really keen on going and meeting them there for a drink or something and a look around. We could make a trip of it." Then he declares this skillet done and goes to plate eggs and black pudding. "So eggs, bacon, black pudding, toast...beans?" Asking as he looks around for a moment to see if beans were on and then forgotten completely.
Sinister	They were. They are. But luckily, they're only SLIGHTLy burned on the bottom, which means most of them are salvageable and will just taste mildly...erm... cajun. "Beans!!" it happens in an instant, that the pot is levitated as Lucifer looks at it, right when the toast goes 'bing' and proves to be more or less precisely as prescribed. "Bloody hellfire, the beans. Are they ok? Toast, toast, toast, toast!" plucked out with fingers and delivered to the plates. "I do hope we're not supplying to some kind of rogue imp, though I'm sure you'd know." A little angry at himself, there's a glower at the levitating bean pan and the hobs are switched off with one mental flick, bacon tray with tomatos pulled from the grill with alacrity and served by telekinesis. The end result is globs of bacon fat which was still spitting, hovering in the air to be collected in a baconfat ball bubble. "Where do I put the fat? Do we have a jar for it?"
Lucifer	Lucifer smiles and just remains steadfast while Nathaniel panics a bit and brings everyting else to the plates. "That seemingly out of place tin can on the back of the stove is the grease holder." He offers while checking things and giving the beans a taste. "The beans are fine. It's all fine." Even if it wasn't fine, Lucifer is very likely the type to suffer through a horrible meal with a smile and air of grace. Only to then offer to order something a couple hours later. "You're kinda cute when you're flustered."
Sinister	"Augh, no... I can't be adorable when I'm all in a tizzy, that would be the death of my gravitas..." Sinister intones with a solemnity that has to be self-mockery. He looks down at the less than perfect looking offering that is their surprise dinner and observes, with a tilt of the head "... Surprise!" with jazz hands. "Seriously, though, if it's inedible, at least there's delivery. I wouldn't take it too personally on my first genuine attempt without feminine guidance." Which at least gives the out. Maybe submliminally he understood. The fat floats to its graveyard and there's a soft sizzle from the fat tin.
Lucifer	Lucifer smiles. "Nathaniel. It's fine. The only thing that went fully awry is the toast and we can scrap the burnt ones and eat the good ones." He offers and then smiles at the jazz hands. All things are put down gently with the mind and he takes Nathaniel into his arms to hug him tight. "It's a lovely surprise. Thank you." A pause. "Now. Let us enjoy this by the fire with some alcohol and speak of the day we've had. Or...something. Normal coupley things."
Sinister	There is a squeeze. When you have titanic strength, it's often a little hard to pop one's back, but it's also very nice to know that you aren't going to crush the person you're hugging to smithereens. The tight eases to its usual not-so-casual possessiveness after but a moment of cling, then relaxes entirely. "Yes. A good idea. And whatever balcony demon we have can enjoy the carbon." So, after a not too shabby -tasting- repast, the flames flicker, the couch is long and Sinister lies with his head in the devil's lap, gazing at the flames. "I love you. Just in case the world ends in a firey doom because I domestic'd -- I wanted you to know that. Today and all the tomorrows."