Owner	Pose
Lucifer	Wednesday, let alone earlier in the day, the Lux club is not open for business. It is open in the evenings, and midday is a time of cleaning and preparation inside the venue. Still, a quick word with one of the employees, who then goes back to check, will end up with Felicia being escorted into the empty lower dance floor, and offered a seat at the bar temporarily. The owner is in, and will meet with her shortly. There isn't a barkeep on duty, but the employee does offer her a quick glass of ice water.
Felicia Hardy	The fall weather means the Cat appears at Lux's front doors with the comfort of a caramel-hued double-breasted London Fog trench coat, a pearly-pink scarf tied about her neck. Her hair, left down, cascades about her shoulders. Whomever answers the door is flashed the business card held betwene two fingers; Felicia rotates it front and back in her gloved hands, the color of the riding gloves matching her riding boots. Dark fitted jeans complete the look. Seated at the bar, she's shed her gloves to take up the offered glass of water. It's given an amused kohl-lined look and her red-red lips quirk before she sips. While she waits on his appearance, the jade-green eyes travel around the bar itself. It's a sumptuous place to be sure.
Lucifer	From the upper floor's balconies comes the owner of the club, coming out to lean against one of the balconies. "Felicia!" Lucifer's strong voice calls down. A slight window into what a powerful singing voice he must have. All the better for summoning hosts of devils? "I'm glad you made it; I did not expect you so quickly," he says, charming. "Please make your way up the stairs behind you," he invites, with a gesture of hand, curl of fingers, towards one of the elegant stairways that leads to the upper floor, before he draws back from the overlook. "I have something of interest for you in one of the private lounges." Two female employees give Felicia a VERY penetrating once-over with their eyes, in a jealous manner. They don't like whatever special thing the sexy Felicia is here for.
Felicia Hardy	How the greeting does resonate. Felicia turns on her barstool with a push of a booted toe, her legs still primly crossed and her glass of water held in two hands as if it required such care. Her eyes lift to find Lucifer on high. A delicate sip of her water wets her lips before she sets the glass aside unfinished. "I'll be right up," the Cat calls back shy of a singsong, projecting in turn. Someone must have done theatre at a young age. For the looks she garners, the young woman simply adjusts the fall of her hair and the knot at her waist. Compliments come regularly for her build, after all. Up the stairs and around the corner into the upper hallway she swans. "You definitely know how to be mysterious." Felicia's voice precedes her. "A sticky note about something for me... I'm curious, not going to lie." Now it's not the business card pinched between the sides of fore- and middle finger, but the note itself. Her eyes glow. "Diamonds are a girl's best friend, don't you know? Marilyn had it right." She grins even as she slides the sticky note back into her coat's pocket.
Lucifer	Lucifer first comes to greet her, with a warm automatic offer of hand to her. Should she accept it, he'll lift it towards his face as if he were going to kiss the back, but instead flicks a wink at her and doesn't. His dark eyes will follow the note in amusement instead. "Diamonds should come from your wizard, I should think?" teases the tall man. He's in immaculately tailored pant, and an open-throated, silky crimson button-up shirt. His right hand is slightly heavy with expensive rings and a watch, but it isn't too much. His scent is heady with a musky cologne. He would be perfectly suitable to go down to play the massive grand piano in a performance, if he'd chose to. "No, mine is more something misplaced," he says, amused, and then turns to lead her into the lounge to their left. It is a comfortable spot, clearly intended for intimate parties of maybe six people to have a more private gathering of whatever type. It smells of incense lightly. On the coffee table is a box, about 12 inches square: a black hard plastic storage crate. It also has a shiny metal combination lock on it.
Felicia Hardy	As if she were royalty, Felicia draws up tall and lets her fingers fall into the club owner's grip. She smiles at the charming detente offered; it's far too easy to fall into the light-hearted air Lucifer creates about himself almost as a cloud. "Diamonds would not be misplaced," she notes as she follows him, the commentary drawn in equal parts sass and her personal leanings. Shiny things are so shiny, after all. "But yes, you are not incorrect. He has given me a thief's ransom before..." The chuckle to follow is warm and self-satisfied: she made a funny. But oh, the box on the coffee table. It captures her attention with an immediacy almost flare-like. Her eyes take on a particular gleam now. "It doesn't look lost to me...?" Lucifer is given a glance even as the Cat pads over to it and seems to want to circle the coffee table itself in her interest.
Lucifer	Lucifer slides in after her, and while her attention is on the box, he quietly sits sideways on the arm of one of the long couches, folding his hands loosely against one thigh, observing her with the locked treasure box. He doesn't say anything at first: just lets her examine it. But then after a little while, there's a strange little noise, a scratching, then a little bit of a wet sound from the interior. Something is alive in there. Lucifer is just sitting there, smiling, fully suspecting that she'll be quick on the uptake about what was lost that might be inside that box.
Felicia Hardy	Felicia reaches the beginning of her light-footed prowl around the coffee table itself when the first sound is heard from the locked box. It makes her flinch taller and frown down at it. A cautious lean-in follows. When she hears the squelch in particular, the thief dances back a step with her hands clutched up before her chest. There is, of course, a little 'eeeep!' The airy titter to follow is markedly uncomfortable. "Oh, hah -- geeeeeeeeeeeez -- it's that thing, isn't it?" She gives Lucifer a smile marred by a strong wrinkle of her nose in distaste. "Thank god you caught it." It takes a second to dawn on her. "...but I don't want it. It's gross."
Lucifer	"Isn't it though?" Lucifer agrees, entirely upbeat about it, as if being gross were a fun quality to him. "I certainly wouldn't want it near my suits," he observes, with a wrinkle of nose, abhorring the idea of the messy slug with his $1500 suit in close proximity. Ugh. "However," Lucifer continues, "That is the reason for the box." He grins, pleasant, shrugging. "Let me explain why you might want it," he says, then, settling his hands again against raised knee. "One of two things, I'd imagine. First, Ykuzantih ichor is a very powerful reagent generally used as a conduit to allow enchantments on various things," he says. "I did keep some for myself." "Second, it is a very harmless creature, to practice banishment on, or various other spells. Weak ultra-planar creatures aren't very common, overall, and it can be hard to get real life /experience/ with one." Lucifer shrugs some. "But that would only be if you wanted to continue with magic."
Felicia Hardy	By the set of her features, Felicia still disbelieves at the usefulness of the slug creature's continued presence. However, months of living in the Sanctum and having her understanding of reality slowly altered more each passing day has taught the brash thief to pause and listen...at least for a little bit...for potential benefits to herself. The slug is useful. Excellent. The Cat with folded arms beneath her chest does eye the box now with a hint less dubiousness. Lucifer, without fail, throws the bait within clear line of sight at the end of his second thought. Felicia visibly frets her lip, the tell for quick conniving thoughts crossing her mind. "Well...if it's //that// easy to practice on, then I'll keep it. I guess." Her tongue slips through her lips briefly. Yuck. "Can I keep it in the box or...do I have to take it out to banish it?" The look she gives Lucifer almost begs him to confirm it can stay in the box.
Lucifer	Lucifer is disgusted and disturbed by the idea of letting it out. Crazy talk. "Oh, absolutely keep it in the box!" Lucifer replies, as if she wasn't sure if she should wash her hands after using the bathroom. Gross. Please do. "I only offer this as a courtesy to you, as you were present when it arrived, and it's valuable. I've already gotten my reagents. I'll banish it right now if you don't care for it; I wouldn't want to keep it around either," Lucifer stands, attempting to move one hand to touch her shoulder, a comforting motion. "Truly, it would not upset me if you reject it," he says, tone kind, honest. He would not be dismayed or hurt.
Felicia Hardy	With a shake of her head, Felicia blows a short sigh. Her eyes go from the club owner standing beside her and back to the box, with its odd scritching and squelching sounds. "I want to keep it," she says firmly. Sharing the opinion aloud seems to help convince //herself// in the process. "It's a creepy little shit, but like you said: it's easy to banish and I should practice banishing it. Practice makes perfect, right? And if I get good at banishing things, I can keep helping out around the Sanctum." Now the thief is grinning and so very pleased with the state of things. Flawless logic -- show off her prowess, earn laud and praise, rise in estimation of Strange's eyes -- she practically purrs for a second to think it. "You're very thoughtful, Lucifer. Thank you," Felicia adds as she gives him an appreciative glance and fetching smile.
Lucifer	"//Excellent choice//," Lucifer says, extremely positively, and blatantly proud of her. The feeling of that might be insulting from some people, but Lucifer carries no belittling in his expression or words. He has some weird skill of being outside of that. His brows are up, eyes widened, a clear expression of a mix of surprise: glad surprise. "Excellent. The Ykuzantih is all yours, then. If you let it out, though, you can chase it, and you really don't want it loose in the Sanctum," he teases, gesturing around the room as if to show that it would run everywhere. "The box will hold it, you have my word on that, but don't get tempted to feed it. It will live a few hundred years before it needs more sustenance." Lucifer winks, then, "Unless you want more slugs, then you can feed it after midnight," he jokes, clearly kidding. Not that the reference is correct, but he did try.
Felicia Hardy	Felicia herself only gets one half of the mixed pop-culture reference, not being a Star Trek fan, but she does chuckle regardless. "I'll definitely keep it in the box and not feed it after midnight. Where to put the box..." A hand lifts and she taps a fingernail against one canine tooth very briefly. "I'll figure it out when I get home," comes the decision with a dismissive wave of her hand, not too unlike a feline shaking water from its paw. "...how did you even catch that thing anyways? It was gone like snot down a drain when it first plopped out of that hole we closed up." Lucifer is given a keenly attentive look now. Perhaps there's more wisdom to be gleaned after all.
Lucifer	"I was looking for something else, actually, and had a stroke of 'luck'. Not the luck I wanted, but still, we make the best of the hand we are dealt, and this hand was Ykuzanith. Usually a losing hand, I'd say, but everything has a /use/," Lucifer chuckles, moving back again to sit on his chair arm once more, languid. "Unless you're specifically asking how I caught it in the box? Open it and I'll show you," teases the devilishly handsome man, a clear twinkle in his dark, bottomless eyes.
Felicia Hardy	"...maybe I will." Because there are few things more that Felicia selfishly delights in than seeing others eat their crow. It's a bold claim to make from her perspective, given she saw how quickly the Ykuzanith moved originally. And besides, there are tumblers to play with, always one of her favorite hobbies. With an air of delicacy, the thief then crouches down to purse her lips at the locking mechanism on the box. Her eyes go distant as she listens upon beginning to twirl the dial on the lock itself. There's one...two tumblers...three...and four. Again, the pleased sigh, as if Felicia had indulged in a lingering stretch. "Ready when you are, champ," she murmurs before flicking the box lid up with fingernails. Like a spring-loaded toy, backwards the thief leaps a good dozen feet -- like a cat espying a cucumber.
Lucifer	Lucifer didn't expect her to do this, and doesn't hide the surprise at all. He has an air of really not caring what people think of him at ALL: which means there's no embarrassment to be had in showing his surprise, it seems. "I should have chosen a room with less expensive furniture," sighs Lucifer, chuckling dryly, but lifts both hands: she's 'won', and he'll not fight it. The lid is lifted, and nothing happens at first. The slug thing might not realize it is free. Then one little feeler-leg like thing waggles out of the top, feeling around like someone might feel under a bed for a missing sock. And then it suddenly moves, darting out onto the table, then onto the floor with a wet sound.
Felicia Hardy	Admittedly, by the time the thing goes plop onto the floor of the lounge room, Felicia's eyeing the nearest bit of expensive furniture. The nice thing about super-reflexes and unparalleled balance is the ability to perch atop ridiculous things //far// out of reach of extra-dimensional slugs. "Show me your moves, mister," the Cat quips with a bright if forced grin. Ew, it's still slimy-looking and it has those feeling thingies and the goosebumps are already crawling on her arms.
Lucifer	"Patience," smiles Lucifer, as the slug hides under the furniture. Lucifer crosses to the box fearlessly, despite that the slug is RIGHT near his foot presumably, picking it up, and removing the lock temporarily, dropping it into his pocket. He also goes to the mini-bar and picks up one of the cloth napkins in right hand, and strolls towards the door with his items. He turns his back to the closed door, faces the room, and then presses his heel against the door just a little. It opens a crack. The slug darts for the door. "/Stop/," Lucifer says clearly and firmly to the slug. It flattens on the ground, quivering. Lucifer bends forwards with the napkin to grab a leg and puts it in the box, shutting the lid. Belatedly he does a 'flourish' like a magician, some sleight of hand manifests the lock and he puts it back on. "Alakazam."
Felicia Hardy	"Tchah!" One half scoff, one half laugh, it escapes from Felicia who had very suddenly been seen behind one of the chairs on the //opposite// half of the room from the sluggy creature. She gives the locked box a look betrayed before leaning her elbow on the back of the chair and her chin upon her wrist, arching an eyebrow at Lucifer. "Gee, mister, I had no idea you were the Slug Whisperer." Then comes another titter, shaking her shoulders. Such grandiose potentialities for chaos defeated by a stern command; the contrast is hilarious to her.
Lucifer	"It's more a general feature, not so much specific to slugs," Lucifer teases back, bringing over the box again to put on the table, and inspects his hands for slug-goop, using the edge of the napkin as he does. He didn't get any on him, thankfully. "I don't do demonstrations usually; but I understand curiosity when I see it, and I did /offer/, didn't I," Lucifer says with a playful smile. The man keeps his word when he says he'll do something. He deposits the cloth into the trash behind the mini bar, and comes back around, trailing his fingers loosely in the air as if there were a music there only he could observe.
Felicia Hardy	"You did, it's true. You're a gentleman for not leaving a lady hanging," the Cat replies lightly. She watches him at his work and especially the motions of his hands. There is an element of the musical there -- she remembers seeing the piano downstairs, an idle notation in her usual habit of canvasing a place upon arrival. "A general feature though...?" He did say he understood curiosity. It seemed an open invitation for Felicia to pry more. She leaves her chin on her palm, head tilted coquettishly to one side.
Lucifer	Brows come up again, and Lucifer looks at her directly once more. "Yes. Many creatures like to just go along with someone that shows strong will," Lucifer chuckles. Rather slippery of him, but also hardly untrue. "Path of least resistance, maybe," he says, suddenly thoughtful, as if this were a good time to consider what exactly he does. "I /do/ try to use my magnetic personality for good, though," winks the devil. "People tell me things they might not tell others, as well. I wonder what feeling they experience, sometimes," Lucifer comments. "Relief, I'd guess. Unburdening is cathartic." His smile is warm, relaxed, friendly. Coaxing. A glance at Lucifer would certainly verify what he says to be true: he's easy to tell things to.
Felicia Hardy	Jade-green eyes narrow slightly at him now even if her smile doesn't waver. "Yyyyyyyes, it's probably pretty cathartic, depending on whatever they're keeping locked away. I don't have to tell you that I'm a thief though...you're a smart cookie. You've seen me pick locks." A furling gesture of Felicia's free hand towards the containment box indicates the tumblers she played with not minutes ago. Regardless, there's a gleam of pride upon claiming the 'hobby' in full conversational confession, like a thread of gold in stone. "Thank god you use that personality for good. I can't imagine what would happen if you caused trouble with it," Felicia muses playfully, eyebrows lifted in counter to the heavy lidding of her eyes.
Lucifer	The box near them makes a few squelching noises, as the creature seems to have gotten over whatever 'spell' Lucifier cast over it, and checks the lid out. "I don't think thievery is really a secret for you, is it? Pretending it is, that's the mask," answers Lucifer, but there's just a grin, and a lack of pressure. "Besides, there's a difference between opening locks and stealing. For general reference, it would be considered a bad idea to steal from me, but you may open locks," smiles the man. Lucifer reacts, as he always does, to her thanking god: slightly put out, a dour expression. There isn't a big reaction: invoking god doesn't make him ill, or something. "'He' deserves no thanks," chuckles Lucifer. "And I will not be offering to show you a demonstration of the result of /that/ trouble, Felicia," teases Lucifer. He gets to his feet, and moves to give her the box. "Unfortunately, I must escort you out, instead. I have other things I must attend, today."
Felicia Hardy	The box is taken with some hesitance overcome by a sudden firm surge of willpower...even if the box emits squelchy sounds while she holds it. Felicia merely sets her jaw and firmly compartmentalizes the need to go 'eeeeeeeeeeew!' in a high-pitched display of dislike. "It's okay. I'm patient. I'm sure I'll see a demonstration at one point." The thief dares to reach out and gently patpat Lucifer's elbow conspiratorially. "I don't mind displays of prowess." Smirk. "But yeah, I've got to head out too. This little...delight," and the one-two-three-four dance of fingernails along the box's lid is brisk; "...has to get back to the Sanctum before I have coffee with the girls. I'll be sure to show them your card. They'd love it here. It's a pretty snazzy place, even if all you serve is water before opening." A wink at the debonair, dark-haired gentleman in his fine clothing and then Felicia turns to leave. She pauses at the door and then turns to consider Lucifer over her shoulder. "Oh, and..." A number is rattled off: her personal cell number. "Texts are less likely to get rained on or blown off a door than sticky notes." And now she truly swans off.
Lucifer	"Displays of prowess? Hmmm. Might complicate your relationship," teases the devil lightly, playing back with ease. Then she lays on him the other information. "They gave you //water//?" Lucifier says, as if he could not even believe that. There's a small display of 'prowess': his annoyance could blister the air, in wattage. "If that was a bartender, they're fired," he says, immediately, smoothly. Somebody needs to be dealt with: new priority over the other items to attend to, obviously.