Owner	Pose
Felicia Hardy	Another thrilling ride back to the Sanctum -- per Felicia's request, she'd rather keep the esoteric books in a place where they don't appear to be out of place -- and the rain appears to have stopped falling by the time they arrive. It leaves the autumn night air clear and cold and all external surfaces glistening. It won't frost tonight, which means everyone's safe from slipping on black ice early in the morning. Not that Felicia would know about this, she's never up before 11am if she can manage it, one of the true night-owls of the world. "So, yes, Shammy's made of magic," she explains even as she unlocks the Sanctum's front door with a key of her own. Stepping into the entry way is full of familiar warmth scented neutrally but for the hint of polish and incense that perpetually pervades the mansion. "He's Shammy for 'Shamrock' because...well, you'll see." Felicia gives Lucifer a grin before she continues into the grand open space of the foyer. A three-note whistle leaves her purled lips. There's the distant faintest sound of feet hitting the floor and then a questioning lilt of 'mrowr' from the second story's open-walled balcony. Down Shammy comes in a sleek flow of verdant coat tipped with gold. Tuxedo-tabby marked by pristine white on his chest, face in a blaze, and all four feet, he rounds the landing of the grand staircase and pauses to see Lucifer there. The fluffy tail lifts and holds, his spring-green eyes locked on the man.
Lucifer	"Yes, made of magic," Lucifer echoes, though he doesn't sound convinced. "I'll see? Does he dance a merry jig? Because I'd quite like to see a cat do that. If he doesn't, will you dance for me?" asks the snarky, devilish man, with a grin, as she lets them inside. He puts his umbrella, still not dry, in the umbrella-stand by the door, and then watches Felicia summon her pet. "Oh! Of course, I've seen one of these before. Normally it is an inanimate object, not a cat," Lucifer says, looking down at it, though there's only a relaxed air, as Lucifer locks gaze with the not-quite-a-cat. "It soaks up your intent. Funny little magic sponges, those."
Felicia Hardy	"The jig is boring. I'm more of a..." Felicia considers how to answer the Devil's query even as she watches Shammy then continue down the steps in a slower if no less confident manner. He swirls up and around her shins with a sudden resonant purr before then approaching Lucifer himself. "...modern dance kind of girl," the thief decides, watching the green-and-gold cat's responses to her guest with an amusement kept checked. Her eyes rise to him, darker than those now resting upon Lucifer. Shammy's tail swishes left and right as he fletches his pale whiskers forwards for a few brief sniffs at the debonair man's pants. Felicia, however, now lightly frowns at Lucifer. "Inanimate objects...? What about intent?"
Lucifer	"Yes. What, did you not get an explanation of what this gift was?" Lucifer asks with interest, and tut-tuts his tongue. He bends and picks up Shammy under the armpits, holding him up, in a manner that fairly clearly illustrates that Lucifer should never, ever be handed a child. "Hm. You made him take this form, I'd imagine?" Lucifer guesses, looking to her, and then looking Shammy over, kneading him a little: nothing that harms the cat, though. "These are fun. Mind if I play with him? I'll put him back. Promise," Lucifer says, with a smile, open as always.
Felicia Hardy	"...no, he was a gift," the thief hedges as she stands by the base of the stairs still holding her armful of books. "I didn't get an explanation other than he's made of magic. That came from Doctor Strange." The explanation. Felicia watches Shammy get handled and hopes the magic doesn't react as a cat might to being bodily lifted as such. He's a good boy. Shammy appears to take it all in stride, still purring, as if the compulsion to scratch or bite at the Devil wasn't part of his make-up, mystical or not. Felicia does narrow her eyes further. "He was a rose at first, yes, but he's a kitten now." A soft sigh escapes her. "I mean...sure, just...put him back the way he is right now, please." She's still confused. Shammy is //what now//?
Lucifer	Lucifer turns the cat over, with a sudden little intense stare, and Shammy morphs into a splaying deck of cards: skillfully woven and shuffled mid-air, in a whirling spinning show of green, flipped inside Lucifer's fingers. Next, the deck of cards is blended sideways into column, two pieces of it pulling aside and forming a long golden violin with green strings. Lucifer grins at her with a wink, turning the bow to cause four beautiful long notes to vibrate from the instrument he tucks under his chin. Finally he draws it down, the bow across his hands, pulling the base of the violin downwards, and turns it into a brilliant glass unicorn able to fit in a palm, rearing magnificently, green and gold. "Your unicorn," Lucifer offers, his eyes warm, kind. There's only a pause, before he restores Shammy-kitten, and extends him to her. "It doesn't stick to forms well, I'm impressed it's held kitten this long. You must maintain him."
Felicia Hardy	Felicia watches, her expression warring momentarily with concern before becoming openly impressed. Bamboozled. Boggled. Even Strange hasn't attempted to play with the cat's ability to switch between forms -- really, any form that could entice the imagination. Granted, he doesn't like Shammy either. The books get hastily set aside on the base step of the grand staircase for her to take Shammy back. He continues purring up a storm as she splays him across one forearm that he might appear as a small green panther sprawled along a limb; his face happily smushes up against her bicep. She hasn't done a good job of looking away from Lucifer. "...holy crap, you really can do magic, can't you?"
Lucifer	Lucifer peers at her a little, and reaches out towards her face, as if she had something on her cheek. "Just let me...." he pulls a coin. Out of her ear. And then flips it, catches it. Makes it disappear. It's sleight of hand. "Obviously. But, I wouldn't really call it that," Lucifer answers. "Because it's all /knowledge/, isn't it? Skill. I know what Shammy is, is all, and I've got experience. Anybody could learn to do what I did, really." A pause. "Well, possibly not the violin performance." A quirk of a smile shows, and he rests his hands against the pockets of his slacks, looking at Shammy appraisingly.
Felicia Hardy	Her gaze flicks to the hand approaching and then passing by the side of her face. Lucifer gets a bemused look until he pulls out the coin. It breaks her moment of puzzlement and makes her laugh a few times, the sound bright. "Yeah, yeah, yeah..." A bit of New Yorker sass slips into her tone at his claim regarding the instrument. "I can make him change, but I don't want to. This, right here, is the Shammy I know and love." The kitten goes decidedly more comfortably limp yet along her arm when Felicia's fingernails riffle along the back of his skull behind his ear. "You keep calling him 'it' though." Her eyes rise to find his own, dark as they are, and hold them. "Since you know magic so well, he's...okay, right? He's not bad or anything?" This particular hopeful light in the thief's eyes isn't put on. Not at all.
Lucifer	"Hm?" Lucifer asks, lifting one brow. His eyes may be dark, but they aren't a place of discomfort or piercing intensity -- not right now, anyway. "Not 'bad'? Define 'bad' for me first, and I can answer your question," Lucifer replies, moving over to extend a hand to Shammy's tail, flipping it over with some curiosity, but no intent to grab or harm her magic pet. "Much like, say, a gun, he is as 'bad' as the one holding him, I'd say. Or as is so often the case with magic objects, the one that made him."
Felicia Hardy	"He's more of a purring rug than a gun," Felicia murmurs down at the green-furred kitten. He simply flips his tail again to put it back where it was before Lucifer touched it -- the joys of being a cat. "See, that's...kind of the sticky part." The thief's face crumples despite her attempt to remain composed. "The whole...one who created Shammy part. I'm...um..." She can't bring herself to look up at the debonair man. "I'm pretty certain that the Trickster God Loki created Shammy when he was...when the guy looked like someone else I thought was a friend. I mean, Shammy hasn't done anything bad. He's just...acted like a kitten since I decided he was going to be a kitten and not a rose."
Lucifer	Lucifer takes in that information, and looks from her to the cat. "Really? I wouldn't have guessed that. This is more of a fae breed of magic," Lucifer answers. "There's some soul in it. It's not a lifeless, dead thing. Something that resonates." He moves a hand near Shammy but doesn't touch, palm out, then flits the hand back. "Like the soul of say, a butterfly." He moves his fingers slightly, then drops the palm to his pocket. "My rather expert opinion is that it came from something of THIS realm, not Asgard. How the 'god' Loki got it, well, I don't think it makes a difference, to be frank. Did Stephen check it for other curses? I assume he would, to protect you."
Felicia Hardy	"I'm pretty sure Stephen did. I don't think he would have let me keep the gift otherwise." Felicia finally does look up into Lucifer's face again. "I mean...I wouldn't have been //happy// if he'd made me give Shammy away or, like...put him back elsewhere, but I would have understood." It's a rare gleam of total responsibility in the usually self-interested thief. Shammy starfishes out a paw beyond her arm before letting his own fore-arm drop loosely again. The kitten blinks heavily now, purring away. "I'm happy to hear he's not just...you know." Felicia thinks, her eyes momentarily off to one side. "Just some bundling of words all grab-bagged together to eventually be some terrible prank pulled on me," she decides with something like a shrug; it might be an uncomfortable roll of her shoulders against worry. "Thanks for being honest with me, Lucifer." Her smile is small but truly grateful.
Lucifer	"Sounds to me that you've had more than enough lies going on with your life lately," Lucifer observes, with a slight shake of head, and rueful smile. He watches the kitten on her arm - or her chest. Or both. It can be both. He's never hidden his tendency to look at the thief's impressive body, but he also has never acted on it. Just has a case of 'gaze drift'. All the time. "I do wonder what that Loki had, by way of motive, to mess with you. Access to the sanctum here?" asks Lucifer. "Simple fun? I rather hope he shows up, I'd ask him. People have a way of wanting to give me straight answers. Just something about this face." Lucifer grins, flashing straight white teeth in a smile at her. It's one of his most beguiling yet: there's an aura to Lucifer that's often ignored, until he flexes it a little: like he just did. It draws people in, creates daydreams and thoughts: usually impure ones.
Felicia Hardy	"Yeah." Felicia acknowledges the obscene amount of lies with her own variant of rue and a subtle frown to twitch through both her brows and her smile. The latter she keeps pasted on her face as she looks between his dark eyes. "I'd...um..." The thief's mouth moves silently for a second because good lord: that smile just about flatlined her ability to think of anything but proposed straight answers. Yanking her mind track back to its previous train of thought, the thief laughs, the sound flustered. "Right. I'd pay to see you have words with him." Shammy pops a happy drool bubble at the corner of his mouth on his next hard purr.
Lucifer	"Such a chat probably wouldn't last, sadly. It would be entirely brief. A so called 'god of lies' would really not much care for me, I fear," Lucifer says, with a mix of clear pleasure and thoughtful amusement. "He might have to look inward," whispers the beguiling devil, examining her with his quality of staring /through/ things. It's an aspect of his open, dark eyes, that asks others to fall in, lose themselves, give in. "Usually I'm hard for such people to face." Amusement there. "I enjoy, love actually, a good secret, you see," Lucifer confides. "I can imagine he'd be a feast of tasty secrets he'd hate to have revealed," winks Lucifer. He moved, during his talking, over next to her, and attempts to scratch Shammy's back a little, but eyes stay on hers. Lucifer has a strong ambiance, and it gets stronger, as his gaze holds, and he leans into it emotionally. "I did mean to ask when we'd first met, but I did get distracted. What drives you, Felicia? What is it /you/ desire?" His aspect strengthens, his gaze extremely magnetic.
Felicia Hardy	Felicia nods more slowly now, still looking into his face. "It'd probably have him cringing like a dog," she agrees with distraction in her tone. Her brows now draw totally together as her smile wavers. Difficult to face? Him? In his dapper dress and smooth delivery of lines as should befit any truly effective club manager? Shammy makes a quiet 'prrt' of appreciation at the extra affection paid to his spine. He becomes more of a kitten-shaped rug yet. Lucifer holds an impressive amount of Felicia's attention at this point because she's usually very aware of cat drool on her fine coat much less other clothing she owns. His eyes have a well of gravity now very nearly impossible to resist. Again, her red-red lips move and she wets them with a pass of her tongue as the corners of her mind begin to tendril into her conscious thought processes. "I..." she breathes, then swallowing. "I...don't want to be alone. I always have to leave."
Lucifer	"Ah.... connection, but something's in the way," Lucifer offers in smooth response. His tone would be entirely appropriate to one of a therapist, gently coaxing from a patient: without judgement, only as if this whole exercise were to benefit only her. It isn't just that, of course: Lucifer is extracting information, in his calm way. "What's in the way? Do you fear something?" he asks, tone comforting, his hand still falling onto Shammy, but he doesn't break eye contact yet: such a break could ruin this lullaby.
Felicia Hardy	It's such a relief, being open about this, that her voice catches the tiniest amount -- like finally pulling stitches from a wound. Felicia continues speaking while drawn into those wonderously charismatic dark eyes. "I have a power where it causes bad luck. I can control it, but sometimes it slips and people get hurt. I leave before they leave me." Ah-hah: proof of her twisted thorny pride which pricks the soul in a red deeper yet than her lipstick. "I love it and I hate it." Shammy burbles in his near-sleep now, his tail slowly curling in loose J-shapes back and forth to some pendulum time kept to a rhythm only he knows.
Lucifer	"Well, doesn't that sound familiar! Sometimes I slip as well. We can only be ourselves, though, can't we?" asks the devil, letting his hand drop away from Shammy, and looking at her with an evidence of compassion in his dark, bottomless eyes. "The world sometimes accepts, sometimes not. Or both: it can be love and hate together, in one churning chaos of emotion." Lucifer watches her a little longer, then ends his questions, with the strong requirement of truth, with a very easy one: "Would you like a hug, Felicia?"
Felicia Hardy	The thief nods agreement again in a dreamy manner. Of course it's true -- who else can anyone be but themselves? Trying to be anyone else is just lying to yourself. "Yes, I would like a hug. You look and smell good." This is, apparently, an unconscious requirement by Felicia for all hugs both given and accepted. The simplicity of the words don't undermine the sincerity of the opinion by the way her own eyes continue to hold his with the open fearlessness. Lucifer will, however, need to hug around Shammy somehow. The kitten isn't disturbed on his resting place of her arm.
Lucifer	Not to worry, Lucifer can work around the cat: in that he lets Felicia decide how to position, and then returns the hug comfortably, even if it's one-armed to mind her precious magic pet. It breaks the gaze, but Lucifer makes no attempt to maintain the trance-like state, he lets it ease off naturally: or continue, if she chooses to stay in it. Sometimes people react in varying ways to it: some prefer to stay in the state, others jerk out of it like they leapt out of a car that was kidnapping them. It's all very individual. "I do, don't I," Lucifer agrees evenly, accepting the compliments with no shame as always. "You know how gorgeous you are as well; working with you is hardly torture for me."
Felicia Hardy	From the blonde, a quiet hum as she one-arms her half of the hug. Dozily, she looks past the line of his suit-jacket. There's an additional simple contentment in being hugged given how sensate Felicia tends to be naturally. He's warm, he smells good, and... ...WHOA. While the thief doesn't qualify for attempting to escape a hijacker's kidnapping, Felicia does execute a smooth side-step to place suddenly very empty and cold air between herself and the man. He gets a blatant stare now. "...thank you," she first manages to get out, pinking at her cheeks. "And...you //really are the Devil//, aren't you...?!" Shammy wakes up and blinks around before yawning to showcase pointy teeth framed by those delicate white whiskers.
Lucifer	"Did I suggest otherwise? There's a lot of names for me, really; some accurate, some not, including, what, 'Bowie', now?" teases Lucifer. "But yes, of course I am," continues Lucifer, his brows up, calm and amused. It's all a joke, though. Isn't it? Lucifer doesn't push on the hug even in the slightest: in fact, he straightens his suit a little more, sending a palm down one lapel, and draws out his flask, as if there were nothing unusual to any of this. He does pause, brows up, as if offering if she'd like a sip from it: polite, debonair.
Felicia Hardy	Felicia doesn't retreat further. She eyes the flask and then Lucifer's face again. The offer is silently refused; he may sip from the flash without sharing. "But yooooooouuuuu..." The word is drawn out in a conflict of lingering disbelief with the very prideful wish to not remember how Strange warned her -- he did -- of whom she was dealing with. All that is whisked aside her in mind on the flip of a coin. The Devil suddenly gets a big smile, as if she'd happened upon an entire sack of diamonds lying around in the middle of the sidewalk with no strings attached. "You know what, Bowie?" Her hand comes out for what must be a handshake. "I like you. I like knowing the Devil. I'd even consider us friends...?" Eyebrows lift in her own rendition of coercive charm, complete with a subtle lidding of her eyes and shift to counter-hitch her weight across her hips.
Lucifer	Lucifer does sip from the flask, with an expression of enjoying the taste of it, there's no flinch in it to the harsh whiskey. He screws the lid back on, head cocked to the side as she decides what to make of him. He turns the flask in his hands: something to fiddle with, maybe, while she decides what the verdict is about him. He's not upset: he's not anything, outside of just genuinely smiley, dark eyes containing a sparkle to them, as if they were open doors to his soul. They really aren't, they lead somewhere else. "Considering how high I suspect your standards are, I'll take that as an extreme compliment. I did think we were friends, yes, from when we'd first met," answers the devil, smile still so very pleasant. He accepts her hand, and does draw it to brush lips to the backs of her knuckles. "I'm glad to hear we are on the same page now," he winks at her, and puts his flask away.
Felicia Hardy	There's a pleased tip of her head to one side and what must be an approving eyebrow for the light kiss to the knuckles. Such manners. Felicia smiles her red-red curl of delight, and glances down briefly at Shammy. He's back to lounging on her arm with a lazy flick and swing of his white-tipped tail once more. "It's nice being transparent, isn't it?" There's a passing cloud of musing in her tone before she fluffs it away like a piece of lint from her pants. Her jade-green eyes slide to Lucifer's face again. "Though, I don't think my standards are //impossibly// high." A sudden squint. "What's the best Chinese food in New York City?" It definitely has the nuance of a test. Felicia delicately combs the verdant fur of Shammy's back with fingernails as she asks, half imitating cinema's best attempts at evil overlords in the process.
Lucifer	"I would say," Lucifer begins, as he draws his hand back, watching her appraisingly, "That would depend on your requirements. Does 'best' mean the fastest? The least obnoxious staff? The most decadently lovely seating arrangement away from the kitchen?" Lucifer wonders, with a slight flare of his eyes and lift of brows. The smile is ever-present. "Or does it mean tastiest but also delivers, because of laziness?" he wonders, with a quick soft laugh. "All things considered? And with us in Greenwich Village..." Lucifer considers. "Le Sia. But then, I enjoy seafood, they are famous for that." He clicks his tongue once against his teeth, one brow tipped up. "Haven't had enough of my company yet?" he teases her. "Not surprising; I'm addictive."
Felicia Hardy	Felicia laughs at the audacious claim, the sound ringing through the expansive foyer of the Sanctum. She shakes her head the slightest as if to reprimand him, but there's an appraising acknowledgement to his response as a whole. "I guess you pass muster after all, Bowie," she informs the Devil. "That's absolutely the best place in the city because of how quick they are to deliver and if you tip well? Well..." The thief shrugs one shoulder smoothly. "They're pretty damn quick about getting it to your door. They know me by my order at this point. There's something about those coconut shrimp..." Her toes curl in her boots and a happy little sigh leaves her. "So. Shrimp here or at the restaurant? I can stash the books upstairs real quick." A thumb motions over and beyond the curve of the grand staircase.
Lucifer	"Ladies' choice. I'm king of my own destiny: I don't have anywhere to be," Lucifer says comfortably, though he does draw his phone out, skimming through his messages. "There is an even better place near my club," Lucifer comments, "In terms of /generousity/ when they deliver, that is. Too far from here knocks it to second place at the moment, of course." Lucifer gets distracted, skimming what is on his phone. "More missing people in Gotham," he observes. He gets more distracted, clearly reading what he was sent with a curiosity. "Not including their hero issues, mind."
Felicia Hardy	With laughter in her tone, the Cat replies, "You'll have to show me another time, I guess, since that place by your club is so very far away." Turning around in her usual near-pirouette, Felicia briefly eyes the phone and its apparently fascinating contents over her shoulder before she stoops. Shammy is set down with a betrayed 'mew' -- how dare he be put on the floor, he was being //held// -- in order for her to collect up her books. "You must mean the whole bit about Superman and Batman disappearing. Well, one of them disappearing, one of them dead." Her eyes do slide away from Lucifer in a show of true mourning. "I didn't know either of them, but they seems like they did well with their gigs. I mean, Batman was kind of... I've heard he's pretty serious. Superman was apparently a really nice guy." A faint laugh follows. "I never met either of them. I don't really wander over there very often. Still..." Rather than take her books immediately upstairs, Felicia wanders over as if she might crane her neck and read the phone's screen. "Missing people? In October? Look, that's spooky stuff." With obvious innocence glimmering on her features, Felicia looks into his dark eyes. "Tell me about it over coconut shrimp? I bet I can lend a hand. They probably need another hero out there."
Lucifer	"I've only met one of the two, and I don't think you'll have trouble guessing which one," teases the Devil, of the heroes. Who indeed would have met an eccentric club owner? Not a difficult choice. "Missing corpses, too. Seems we /do/ have a creepy thing, just in time for Hallow's Eve. My favorite. I do /love/ a good mystery," smiles Lucifer, and smiles at her in a winsome manner. "It is a deal. But not a date." A grin follows. He remembers, and, it seems, is always a gentleman. Not that his grin isn't suggestive. It /is/.