3130/Ice Palace: Research Materials

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Ice Palace: Research Materials
Date of Scene: 28 August 2020
Location: Occult Shop
Synopsis: Nessa goes to find some information and finds an unexpected lead.
Cast of Characters: Nessa Donovan, Lucifer




Nessa Donovan has posed:
While the store doesn't try to be too eclectic, the Rabbit's Foot Bookstore is a strange mix and match of attempt to be a modern, functional store and looking more like an antique shop. While it does cater to the average practitioner of more mystical arts in order to make its bread and butter with herbs and crystals, their book collection is by far one of the best for sale in New York. Bookcases that don't match pepper the rest of the store, organized by topic even if the organization is a bit difficult given the odd mix of sizes of cases and shelves. Peppered atop and between book sections are objects, though it's hard to tell if they're items for sale or things added to give the whole store more of a 'mystical' vibe. It's a taste of the over-the-top expected of a magic bookstore with the actual practicality of a functional store with a clerk who knows what they're talking about.

Nessa Donovan's usual resources were tapped. While she had access to a great deal of generalized knowledge, finding anything more detailed had proven to be trickier. While there were some extended options she could poke at, bothering people she didn't know well didn't seem like a particularly fun option. Best to save cards to play when they really needed to be. She hadn't exhausted all her options after all. So, seeking information, she's found herself in the Rabbit's Foot.

She's certainly not dressed like a wannabe magic user, the simple dark blue jeans offset by a pale orange long-sleeved shirt tucked into simple gloves. Her hair's pulled back to the nape of her neck with a loose tie, thankfully keeping it out of her face while she flips through a book that appears to be something out of the 70s. Not all magic books were aesthetically pleasing tomes, after all. She's seated on a rather musty-smelling antique loveseat with an overly floral pattern on it, a few books propped up on a side table next to her. They all seem to tie together with the theme of 'souls'.

Lucifer has posed:
"Don't even think to try to pull that Jedi mind trick thing on me," says the gruff but amused elderly man at the sales register. He's standing next to the register, looking over his glasses at another who has just set a stack of about six volumes down on the counter.

"Would not dream of it, Browning," chuckles a second masculine, cultured voice. "I only, as per our chat last week, ask that you do take a /look/ at the extras, along with the ones in the prior agreement."

Browning removes his glasses to wipe them, moving aside to then replace them on his nose, and then bends to start to look over the spines. He releases a long whistle.

Meanwhile, the man that brought the books has wandered off along the stacks, hands slid into his pockets while he looks over some of the racks' contents. He does fit the bill for a 'modern' wizard, in a black suit, over a crimson open-collared shirt.

"I can't take these others," Browning sputters a little bit. "Demonology isn't a topic I will sell here. These historical tomes are fine, but these others?" There's discomfort, uncertainty there; Browning is tempted, maybe.

"Are expensive, yes; and you'll resell them for eight times what I've asked," agrees the man in the suit, extracting a hand to ripple fingers down along some other book spines as he passes by, easily into Nessa's view. He spots her right away and flashes a charismatic smile at her, friendly and pleasant, eyes falling over the books around her research area.

"I don't want to know where you got these, do I?" Browning asks.

"Directly from Hell," Lucifer responds without turning, with a laugh in his tone and a teasing lift of brows towards Nessa.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
Nessa leans forward on her seat, peering over the top of the open book on her lap. After a moment, she slowly closes it as she lets her attention be drawn away from the books she's perusing to the books he's hawking. She tilts her head to the side. "Demonology?" That's not /exactly/ what she's looking for, but it never hurts to poke around. She lifts the book from her lap so she can stand up, setting it aside with the others on the table. She's considering them tabled for the moment, literally.

"Are we talking about the summoning of demons or more like the banishing of demons or something more along the lines of those really bad costumes that come out at Halloween that someone decides would look great with fishnets and heels?" She pauses. "Just trying to get a feel on future purchasing options, of course."

Not that she has the money for all the books she'd like, though.

Lucifer has posed:
Nessa speaking up seems to have grounded Browning, who is back to being resolute and gruff. "/No/ kinds of demonology," Browning states firmly. He's extracting the historical tomes, but has taken care not to touch or do anything with the others underneath it. He moves the others a good distance away, as if they might crawl up and bite him, and sets about examining the bindings on the historical books he's interested in, with a great care and treasuring manner. They are something precious, those.

"Those are mostly informative as a reference. Nobody will be opening a gate into any nether regions with those," Lucifer haggles ruefully. "Certainly not with 'esoteric sub-demons of the south pacific.' Really now. None of those contain actual spellwork, though that brings me to wonder, do you actually cater to sorcerers and sorceresses now, Browning?" Lucifer questions smoothly. "I could have brought you spellbooks."

"Hmh," Browning answers, which seems to discourage Lucifer exactly zero percent. "I want to see lists beforehand."

"I've met demons in fishnets and heels," Lucifer asides to Nessa. "Not terribly big on books, those." He's looking at the items on her table now, with his head tilted, bright eyes skimming. "Are you being haunted?" he guesses, curious.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
She flashes a glance towards her stack of books. "Not personally," Nessa shakes her head. "Just trying to solve a complicated situation with some good old fashioned practical application of learning something from a book and hoping it works." She smiles wryly. "But I'm also pretty sure I'm not gonna get much use out of 'esoteric sub-demons'. Never hurts to inquire, though."

She squints at him for a moment, then rests a gloved hand on her hip. "You don't have anything else, do you? I've got a pressing research project due at Hogwarts and you're clearly the supplier." She glances briefly towards Browning. "No offense."

Lucifer has posed:
"Good, I don't collect books on wayward ghosts; that would have been a terrible match. Still, souls, hmm?" Lucifer queries of Nessa. He's curious but not invasive about it: more like someone that likes puzzles, and she walked in with one. His manner is relaxed, like a game might be had. To some degree, there's a quality of being a bored, rich person: one that has a lot of free time, potentially.

"Hogwarts -- I see. Attempting to split your soul into seven pieces, are you? Spoiler: it does not end well." Lucifer has invited himself to look at her books more directly, to attempt to flip open the top one. He has long, expressive piano fingers, bare. "More than once seems unnecessary to me, anyway: as at that point, agony would be quite extreme," Lucifer adds, though it is playful.

Browning makes a disgusted noise from where he is. "Don't trade in restricted books in my store, please," he voices: frustrated but resolved to that they may be going to do it, but at least can do it elsewhere. "I run a clean shop."

Nessa Donovan has posed:
Luckily, Nessa's had plenty of experience with bored rich people. So when he looks through the books, she watches casually. "Not really for me, I can't imagine I'd be too fond of the whole immortality thing, pretty certain I've got far too much to deal with as is." Her eyes go to Browning for a moment. "Don't worry, I'm not summoning any demons or doing anything of the type. Just cleaning up someone else's mess."

She lets her gaze go back to Lucifer, but it's less of a look and more of an examination, both magical and in demeanor. Whatever she finds seems to pacify her. "Got anything, books or otherwise, on phylacteries? I don't mean those Jewish prayer box things either, believe me, it'd be so much easier if that was what I was researching. Information everywhere."

Lucifer has posed:
"Demons and phylacteries? My, Alice, what rabbit hole of someone else's mess have you slipped and fallen into?" Lucifer asks, brows lifting, and looking at her in a surprised, renewed interest. He flips the book he'd been browsing closed with a single fingertip.

"Sounds like either you have someone who is trapped in such a thing and you'd like them rescued and released... or," and Lucifer gives a deep pause, "You have a creature of some sort that has left its body and is roaming causing some sort of problems. Hopefully one you did not release, mmmm? Browning won't' approve," Lucifer asides with a cheeky tut-tut of tongue, though he doesn't seem upset or judgemental at the moment, himself.

"I suppose option number three could be you've found a phylactery and want to research it. If it's that, don't take it out, poor man has trouble with demon /books/," Lucifer stage-whispers. He leans in a little, with a thoughtful interest. "I feel like it's more one of the first two. That air of heroism about you." There's a smile: a kind one.

"What is it you're trying to do?" Lucifer asks. There's a slight press on it, some movement of something akin to magic. Lucifer has an aura about him, that evokes a gentle request to be trusted, to be open with him. It's just that pleasant face he has, maybe.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
"People are really good at throwing the word heroism around," Nessa points out. "I'm certainly not getting dressed up and using some kind of name. All I'm doing is helping people that need a little because I happened to have stumbled into the middle. Sometimes things just are too good to be true, turns out." She doesn't have any particular reason not to share, mostly because she hasn't held it back before. Being well informed is not something she can fault anyone for wanting to be.

"I need to make one, from what I can understand. You're right on the second count--there's a soul that needs to be put into one to stop a lot of trouble for New York. This isn't just? an area I've researched. There's a couple people I can ask but I'd feel a little silly just jumping in feet first without knowing how cold the water is. I don't exactly want to look like I don't know what I'm doing in front of them. A lot easier to ask someone I don't know if they've got anything. Low stakes. I'm not trying to impress you."

There is a small smile after a moment. "I would appreciate the help, if you /do/ know anything. Consider yourself a hero helping out in some small way."

Lucifer has posed:
"Tell you what," Lucifer answers, thoughtfully, after listening to her explanation. "Buy me either a drink, or perhaps, if you don't drink -- a slice of pie from the restaurant across the street -- and I'll give you some tips into the right direction. I'll have some more questions about this soul, though: you have to make sure the gift box wrapping fits the present going inside, after all."

"If it's as bad as you say, I may want to contribute anyway, but best to start with the basics, eh?" Lucifer chuckles. "Besides, that will give Browning time to peruse my wares." Lucifer turns, towards the elderly shopkeeper poring through one of the historical books. "He'll hold onto the lot for now, ----won't you?" Browning sputters a little but doesn't decline. Lucifer is pretty damn coaxing.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
The pile of books Nessa was looking at is ignored as she favors the more immediate lead. "Drinks or pie, doesn't make a difference to me. I'm honestly well-versed in both." She pauses. "Although a drink sounds more tempting now that you mention it. Pretty sure you just standing nearby would make someone think twice about trying to get my attention. It's nice to have a peaceful drink."

Browning is given a polite smile from Nessa. "Don't worry, I'll be sure to be a repeat customer." She does, after all, still want full access to whatever she might need to pick up for reference to supplement whatever she can get. "I appreciate the help in advance. Unless this is a really bizarre way to get a woman to buy you a drink, in which case you get points for creativity. But really? I do appreciate the help."

Lucifer has posed:
"Merely giving you the opportunity to bribe the help out of me," Lucifer teases, and bends to pick up the bag he assumes is hers, to offer it to her with a gentlemanly smile and tilt of head. His expression is a little /intense/, maybe, eyes flared, but hardly overwhelming or too out of place.

"I would, though, prefer to have your name before we share drinks, though it's not part of the transaction: more simply wanting to know the name of the lovely woman I've just met." The play is casual, and natural for him: the bored rich man seems to also, probably, be quite a flirt as well. The drink may or may not entirely be peaceful.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
"Ah, so you're trying to be a nice guy but you want to save face by letting it look like you aren't just doing it all for free," Nessa notes, reaching over to carefully take the bag from him in gloved hands, slinging it over her shoulder. "Clever. I'll be sure to let everyone know you drive a hard bargain." She adjusts the strap on the bag before looking towards the door. Intense or not, the intent of the drink doesn't seem to bother her--or perhaps she's unaware of the flirt.

"Nessa. It's short for Vanessa but that sounds more like the name of a wealthy socialite than?" She doesn't seem to be able to summarize herself, so she just gestures vaguely. "I'm assuming you have a name to go along with that well-tailored outfit as well. If I'm treating someone to a drink or otherwise bribing them for help, at least names put us on friendly terms."

Lucifer has posed:
"I don't want a reputation as a soft and cuddly guy," Lucifer says, in mock horror. "Quite unbearable, that." He gives Browning a swift little wave, while the man looks upset over having the demonic books still present on his counter. He picks up a newspaper to use to buffer to handle taking the books off of the counter and moving them aside onto a back sorting table.

"Hmmm, I like both versions; lovely name; I suspect both suit different /aspects/ of you, but I digress. I'm Lucifer," Lucifer says, offering his hand to her in an entirely normal greeting, eyes falling to her gloved hand with mild curiosity. His handshake is relaxed and demands nothing. Lucifer says his name with an awareness. There isn't any fronting to it, he doesn't pretend that it's a name without any connotations. No, he says it in the same way someone named 'Michael Jackson' might say their name. A sort of acceptance comes with it: but no more than would be expected, wearing a name like 'Lucifer'.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
Nessa's face is an expression of amusement. "Your suit doesn't scream soft and cuddly, but that's just the suit. Clothes say a lot about a person." She does reach out to shake his hand, gloves staying on, but she doesn't comment on those as he doesn't. She watches him carefully after a moment. "No one gets to call me Vanessa." Her voice is firm. "No one's earned that right." It is clearly a thing that could happen, but just doesn't for reasons unknown.

She does give him an odd look at the mention of his name. "Okay," she starts, opening her mouth to climb down the rabbit hole, then decides not to. "Lucifer it is." Regardless of the origins of his name, she figures that he gets that a lot.

Lucifer has posed:
"No 'Vanessa': of course," Lucifer says grandly when she restricts things to Nessa. He'll remember, it seems. Though things flow smoothly enough towards the predictable reaction to his name, and Lucifer is there to ease through that slightly weird bump.

"Yes, it is; I own a nightclub not too far from here," he says, as if that somehow explained everything. He does draw back the side of his suit coat to extract a card to let her see. It is a card for LUX, an expensive nightclub in Manhattan, and specifies Lucifer Morningstar as the club owner on it. Which... probably just reeks of being a stage name of some kind, as the sleek black and red card rather goes along with that persona very well.

"The Devil's own club," Lucifer laughs, with an immediate wink, and moves to open the door for her.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
Nessa examines the card before she tucks it away in her bag. "I haven't decided what to put on my card," she states, as if it were obvious that she would have had one to exchange otherwise. "I haven't checked it out, but maybe I will. I find it's hard to have the energy for a club unless you know in advance you're going to one." She offers a small smile as he opens the door, and she steps outside.

"Right, devil. I'll just have to be careful of any deals I make with you." Playing along, perhaps. "Starting to feel like that's a trend I'm going to have to be careful with at this rate." The last bit isn't fully directed towards him, it comes off more as her musing rather than anything. "A drink is, at least, not the worst of deals. I think I can handle it."

Lucifer has posed:
"'Devil' is more a title; I think we're more casual than that. Or perhaps that is just my hope. Unless you prefer I call you, what, 'sorceress'?" Lucifer asks playfully in answer, his smile warm as he follows her outside onto the sidewalk. He's relaxed, having a good time, with a calm quality to his manner. "Or, as you referenced Hogwarts, do you consider yourself more of a witch?" He's just asking, he doesn't use it in a negative way.

"Well, if you cannot handle said drink when it comes down to it, I still accept the idea of pie, though you rightly have sensed I would prefer a drink. A very small ticket price, I think, for the topics you've chosen, overall." Lucifer gestures towards the destination he'd had in mind: it's a decent, respectable looking restaurant, with a bar on one end.

"Mind if I ask, how did you become entangled in all of this?"

Nessa Donovan has posed:
"Sorceress makes me sound old or important, and I'm pretty certain I'm neither," Nessa points out. "If I have to call myself anything, it's mage. It's also certainly not a title. So, Lucifer it is. Names are better anyway." She raises an eyebrow at the mention of the drink. "Oh, no, I said drink. I can certainly handle the drink. I only meant that in the grand scheme of things, a drink for some information is a safe deal. Not everything is these days."

She keeps pace well towards the restaurant, glancing over at him. "It wasn't an intentional mess to get into. When it all comes down to it, I got tricked. I wanted something too badly so the first time I got a real opportunity to get it, I didn't even notice the risk. When I found out exactly what was going on, I couldn't just bail on things. There were other people in my situation and it's sort of escalating into a larger issue anyway so I'm lending my expertise or lack thereof to the whole ordeal. Making the most of a sticky situation."

She smiles, but it's a little more cynical. "Moral of the story is in the long run, trusting yourself is the safer bet."

Lucifer has posed:
While she is talking, Lucifer has casually removed a cigarette, and flipped open a shiny, golden lighter. He lights it and puts the lighter away in the same, even motion, but doesn't direct any of the smoke to her at all. It's not even noticeable, really, as he's not blowing it in her face, and has found a downwind place to stand: he's smoking, but not forcing it on her.

"Tricked. A difficult, reactive state to be in," Lucifer observes, empathetically. "Tricked by a temptation?" He nods a little bit, thoughtful, listening most certainly. He's curious, without arrogance. "I understand your expertise is not in souls; what area //do// you pride yourself in?" Lucifer asks, an offer to let her brag a little, if she wants.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
The smoking is hardly noted, mostly because he's not directing it anywhere close to her face. Constantine could learn something from him. Nessa glances towards him a bit, the slightest bit of a frown forming at the idea of being tricked. "You draw on the hopes you had as a kid and it becomes easy territory to prey on." She rubs the back of her neck. "As far as my expertise? Ice." There's no bragging when it comes to it. She's either humble, untalented, or doesn't know what she's got.

"If anything, that's what I have a particular affinity to. It kind of picked me rather than the other way around. Luck of the draw, I suppose. Not sure who gets to decide those things, but I would've bribed for a better deal, I think." She pauses. "Not there's anything wrong with ice itself, more of the package deal."

Lucifer has posed:
"Well, before you become tempted to impress me with ice, know that I am ... the equivalent of significantly warded against the effects of ice, and would be a poor target," Lucifer says, with his usual smile. It isn't a warning, or even a boast, necessarily. It's something in the middle of that. Maybe he just likes to talk -- which could be good for the purposes she's with him for: information!

"I don't cast spellcraft - magic," Lucifer adds. "And I /prefer/ not to work much ritual magic either, though I have been a part of more than one exorcism. I more enjoy the study of the subjects, and magical relics, though. Still. There is always something new to /know/. I am forever a student, myself."

They've gotten to the restaurant, and Lucifer finds a nice spot at the far end of the bar, with decent privacy. He settles onto his seat, fitting in at the bar like he sits there all the time. Maybe he does.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
There's an odd look that crosses Nessa's face for a moment when he mentions being a poor target for ice and she stares at him for nearly a half-second too long before she focuses back on what they're doing. A conversation. "Right, well, I wasn't looking to impress anyone," she reiterates, tugging on the cuff of one of her gloves for a moment. "But having knowledge on the subject, regardless of your use or not, means you're able to lend a little more than the average person."

She settles onto her seat at the bar next to him, then pauses for a moment before carefully pulling her gloves off, though they're set nearby, never too far from reach. Precautions, though these may be more psychological than anything. "Being a student isn't bad. The world's full of many mysteries and secrets, people especially. Not sure what's harder, magic or people."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer is quite perceptive; he watches her change of behavior as he mentions the ice item. Either she is worried she doesn't have a good defense against him, or.... Yes. It's the 'or'. Something with her gloves. He's curious, and Lucifer likes to /know/ stuff. He likes to poke at it, or lift that rock to see what's under it.

"Are you all right?" Lucifer asks, gesturing to her hands with a twist of his wrist and opened fingers. "I don't believe you would find it easy to harm me: and I am not here to offer you any harm." There's a depth of honesty and firmness to that statement. Honor, and being true to his word, is important to Lucifer, and is in full relief in his expression. There isn't a joke there, just seriousness. It smooths some of his sass down, tempers him. It's brief.

Lucifer left his hand on the bar nearby, but doesn't intrude into her space with it at all. He's just evidently fearless. During that time, the bartender appears, and Lucifer wants a whiskey neat. The bartender looks questioningly at Nessa for her order, if any. "I do hope you'll join me," Lucifer says, convincingly.

Lucifer is a gateway to many vices.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
"Good choice," Nessa says.

It's in reference to the alcohol, but it could certainly mean a lot of things at this point. She slides her hands away from the bar as the bartender approaches, safely out of harm's reach as she orders a whiskey herself. Her hands don't return to their position on the bar until the bartender's safely out of the way. "I'm alright." It sounds like more of a decision than a statement of fact.

"The ice isn't always intentional. Some of it, anyway. I prefer it to be used purposefully, not accidentally, so I don't often take risks where what I'm doing is directly harming someone who doesn't deserve it. So? the gloves. I don't often run into people warded against ice, so it's?" She's sorting through words and their intentions almost visibly on her face. "A very rare chance to be unguarded. Even just knowing there's no risk there is somehow almost refreshing on its own." There's some weight to what she's saying, but the sass is still there. It helps with safety, like the gloves.

"Don't let it go to your head too much."

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer tilts his head, brows up, but waits for the drinks to be poured and brought, before he gets much into responding to her verbally. His smile is relaxed, though.

"That sounds like something of a lonely history," Lucifer observes, with a penetrating look. A look that suggests that he might be about to get a little personal: like a therapist about to unload some deeper insight. "Have you considered a warded pendant for your romantic partners to wear?" Lucifer recommends openly, as if that were a normal topic. He isn't odd about it: just, there it is, while he samples the whiskey.

Lucifer drinks whiskey like it is delicious; it's slightly odd to watch, perhaps. "But as I said, I enjoy magical objects, therefore I will see solutions there. Fortunately, your phylactery is a magical object, though I wonder exactly what led you to believe you need one. Generally problems with souls lean towards needing a cleansing, not such a container. I'd like to know more about this soul you'd like to trap."

Nessa Donovan has posed:
Nessa drinks like someone who already knows the burn of whiskey. Not like it's water, but she's prepared enough for it that she drinks it with ease. She does, however, raise an eyebrow at his own treatment of the alcohol before she fights off any color in his cheeks about the mention of a pendant. "It's something I've looked into, just a bit, but it's not exactly something I can afford. Everything's got a price. So I just... don't. Better not to hurt someone else for my own selfish gains. I wouldn't lie and say it's not lonely, but you do something long enough and it just feels like normal. Sometimes you don't notice what's gone."

She frosts her glass slightly with the tip of a finger before taking another sip of it. "You're offering a second opinion on an idea that wasn't mine. The source is only somewhat reliable. A deal with the devil, not you of course." She's joking a bit at that. "If there's another option, though, I'd like to hear it. If I don't have to use the phylactery, I owe only a little as opposed to a lot. Haven't sold my soul, though, but I'll probably get burned regardless."

At least she's aware she's playing with fire.

"Necromancer seems to have either wanted to summon something or already had and was trying to fix his mistakes and he seems to be no longer /bodied/. The thing, whatever it was he got involved with, is still causing a problem and trying to go for magical items and perhaps also the people near them who he was trying to use the life energy of. There are some others working on this, but it's just chipping away at the ice. Getting to the heart of the problem is the only way. I didn't really have a plan otherwise--the ice, that I understand. Demons and souls? Little bit out there. Haven't studied too much there."

Lucifer has posed:
"I propose," Lucifer begins, drinking his whiskey and savoring it just a little before swallowing. If it's burning, he makes no sign; perhaps he has whiskey wards up as well, or is just weird. Could be both. He observes the glass frosting with light curiosity and interest. Magical humans are fun.

"That we take a field trip to look at this situation. I'll be able to tell you the state of the demon, if there is one. If it's a necromancer chaining the souls of the dead..." He tilts his free hand back and forth. "Depends. Still, I'd rather investigate and give you accurate information, not just a guess off of what someone else told you. At least, not someone you've just mentioned is unreliable." Lucifer laughs softly, brows raised, with an intent flare of his eyes.

"But I did jump ahead. If you simply want to learn about mage or lich phylactery, can do that. I can give you one to borrow and examine." Easy.

"Who is your ally? I know a great many in magical circles." Lucifer's tone is smooth, enticing. He's often just easy to talk to. "And fewer that deal in sold souls." There's a scowl in that, a flare of displeasure. Lucifer does /not/ like the sale of soul concept, for whatever reason.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
"Some extra intelligence is something I can get behind." Nessa does seem interested in the second opinion of a dangerous situation, after all. "I wouldn't mind taking you to look, so long as we don't stray too close. I've got SHIELD keeping an eye on it so it's secure, but I don't think it's really safe enough to get in there at the moment, not when he's able to still spread the ice." She leans her weight on the bar a tiny bit. "Even if I don't use the knowledge of the phylactery, I'm not going to pass up the opportunity to learn. Provided there's not a dangerous cost."

There's a moment where she draws on her magical senses, both to make sure if he feels the way he did before and to make sure there wasn't anything different lurking close. More safety precautions. For someone who runs and dives deep into something, she sure looks over her shoulder a lot. "I really shouldn't say his name, I'm legitimately concerned he's always listening for it. But he's a step above most magic users and I don't actually think I can call him an ally. He doesn't really help? he just does things that sometimes prove useful. He's strong and he's dangerous and if I do mention he's helping me to the wrong people then I'm the one that looks like I'm the bad guy instead of trying to clean up this mess."

There's a pause when the phrase 'sold souls' really sinks in. "Oh... he's going to ask for that phylactery. /Shit/. I didn't even think of that. Going to do the hard work and wrap it into a tidy bow and then he'll just have some necromancer's soul to play with. That definitely sounds like something he'd do. Okay, right, I think plan phylactery has to be plan b."

Lucifer has posed:
"Afraid to say his name? Well, Hogwarts," New nickname for Nessa, "this he-who-shall-not-be-named really has you wrung up, doesn't he," Lucifer observes, though she's certainly more interesting the deeper this strange story gets. But then, supernatural intrigue is fun, something unusual to do, and Lucifer is willing and happy to eat popcorn, such as it were.

If Lucifer is able to sense her using her magical awareness, he doesn't react at all: and he's the same. There's power to him, but it's not similar to the mages she's met. Still, it's singular: recognizable due to the uniqueness, maybe. Lucifer is his own deal.

"I understand image is important to you. My involvement can remain secret as well," Lucifer offers, with a slight playful wink. His tone suggests they're going to have a secret romance; it has a flirtatious undertone.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
"Yeah, well, he makes messes for fun and I try to give people the benefit of the doubt when they've earned a reputation but so far he's proving to be accurate to a 't'. I'm sure I'll work my way out of this mess eventually, I'm just trying not to get anyone hurt in the process. Kind of a running theme in my life, I think."

Nessa takes a long sip from her glass. "Honestly, I'm not sure I'm not going to somehow be framed for this because it's ice related. Throwing around names like Lucifer and L--ucifer probably won't make that any better." She catches her slip and takes another swallow of whiskey for the burn. The wink gets an amused expression though. "I suppose you'd be a decent secret."

Lucifer has posed:
"'Decent'," Lucifer echoes, with a sort of scoff to it, but not offended. At some point, his hand was already on the bar, and he roves it with a subtle, sleight-of-hand skill to attempt to drape it over her exposed fingers. There's multiple elements there, but nothing of a pressure. He's responding to the signals he believes he's seeing. Lucifer is smooth, but also isn't hiding much. He's expressing his intent in a confident way.

"What's made you feel so responsible, Nessa?" Lucifer questions, setting his other forearm on the bar, entirely turned towards her now. His tone is softened, more probing. "I understand you didn't cause this, did you? What ties you to it?"

Nessa Donovan has posed:
Maybe a touch of fingertips was an everyday thing for him, but for Nessa it held more significance. The first second is a check to make sure she's not doing any harm even if he had assured her that he was warded against ice. He was still unharmed and his hand was still there. The second following that is more processing than reactionary. It might be hard to make out exactly what she's thinking, but there's more significance in that touch than he might have intended. Or, perhaps he had.

"Responsible?" Nessa's voice echoes the word in the way someone does when their name has been called but they weren't aware enough to hear it the first time. "I just wanted a teacher. I wanted to learn more, understand more, and when you've got books there's only so much you can get from them. So I was tricked when the opportunity was right in front of me. It makes me feel all kinds of betrayed to be used like that. Partially I feel responsible because there are others in my shoes, just wanting to learn and being used like life batteries. I feel tied in because it's ice and that's been all I can really focus on since I was a kid. The situation tied itself to me."

Her gaze moves back to her hand as if to check and make sure his was still there.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer is still there, but as he watches her look down at his hand, he opens his fingers, with a spray of them sideways, releasing her fingers from the brief touch. He rotated his hand to be palm up, fingers loose, as if offering her an opportunity to read his palm. But in this instance, it instead is an offer for her to opt into this: to set fingers to his, or to not. Choice.

"Not everyone is out to get you, but it does sound like a very harsh lesson's been learned. And feeling like you want justice? Very, very natural. Very human," Lucifer assures her, supportively. "And you're special, are you not, as one that didn't end up used, like the others?" he suggests. "Maybe you were tricked, but you recognized it for what it was."

To some extent, Lucifer can feel like a very insightful therapist, with his penetrating evaluations and apparent understanding.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
The brief hesitation that follows isn't one of choice: Nessa already knew what she was choosing. It was more of a pause to dip a toe in the water to test how cold it was. Once the hesitation is over, she moves to rest her hand atop his. She looks away for a moment and, to her credit, does a decent job of making it look like it has less of an impact than it does.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer curls his fingers under hers deftly, slides forward, and draws her hand upwards, intending to put a deft, gentlemanly brush of lips on the back of her knuckles. His smile is liquid rogue: self satisfied and content with his small motion.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
The semi-full composure falters as Nessa's focus is fully pulled away from the conversation. Try as she might, she's unable to fully suppress the color in her cheeks or the slight look of surprise. She'd touched someone's hand in recent memory, but this was unexpected territory she hadn't had the time to prepare for. Mostly because it was /unexpected/. It takes an immense amount of willpower for her to regain focus.

What were they talking about? "Not sure about that whole 'not everyone's out to get you' thing these days, but I try to take my little victories where I can get them." She's using her glass as a distraction, her free hand moving to it to lift it to her lips, frost forming on the surface as it does. It's likely not an intentional effect in this case. "I don't know that it makes me special, by any means, that I'm in the position I'm in to figure out this whole necromantic ice thing. If I'm hurt by something, I find a way to deal with that pain. But if I see someone else in that same position? it's hard to sit by and watch it happen. Call me a bleeding heart or whatnot. I just know what it's like to be the underdog."

Lucifer has posed:
"I understand. You don't want what happened to you to happen to anyone else," Lucifer agrees quietly, thoughtfully. He looks down at her snared hand, bringing his other hand now into the mix, to briefly brush the inside of her wrist. There isn't a casual quality to it, he's not being sneaky, even if his touch is light.

She chose to put her hand in his, and he's willing to continue the touch, maybe ebate a little bit of the loneliness. ....or perhaps it will just be worse, knowing more of what she's missing?

The bartender does approach with a 'refill?' silent question on his face, and gets a small negation from Lucifer, though his attention and gaze stays on Nessa. The bartender gives a bit of a smile: after all, the pair are there holding hands, and leaves them be.

"I'd say /protector/, over 'bleeding heart'. Selfless bravery is hardly a bad thing. Perhaps sometimes considered foolish," there's a tease there, "but I think you should act on how you feel."

Nessa Donovan has posed:
The fact that it's so intentional seems to be a draw and Nessa's attention is once again drawn to the touch of skin. It's a little easier to focus on him again this time, mostly because she's a little more secure in the sensation of the touch. "Foolish I'll accept, I'm certainly that," Nessa notes with an amused expression. "I'll accept protector too. It's something I've certainly tried to do, when I can."

The mention of action on feeling also draws an amused expression. "You know, for someone so constrained, I do an awful lot of that. Maybe to make up for what I can't do. I'm not a half-hearted person, I can't just stop when I've set myself to a task. Couldn't walk away from this ice thing if I tried. Stubborn and determined can be just as much my downfall as much as my success." She glances to her other hand, the one resting on her glass for a moment before looking fully back at him.

"You're good at this. I think you missed your calling as a therapist or even a bartender. It's a lucky thing for me that I don't have a lot of secrets to spill, you've got a way with words. I like it."

Lucifer has posed:
"Occasionally I will tend bar at Lux," Lucifer laughs, amused and not offended at all by her suggestions of alternate vocation. "I like to talk to people. I like seeing people /happy/ and enjoying themselves. Being free to /be/ their best selves," Lucifer says.

"Live without regret, I say. It sounds like you are making /that/ your truth, at least?" Lucifer still has her hand with both of his, moving his fingers slowly over the backs of hers, while the other curls under the palm. It's a lazy motion, but also has an intent of not being /forgotten/ either.

Lucifer grins more as she mentions she might tell him her secrets. "Well, I am not a priest: I cannot absolve you of anything," teases the devil. "But as I do not think that is what you seek, we'll be all right." He brushes fingers against her pulse lightly.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
It would be hard to forget the touch at the moment. Nessa's eyes don't go back in that direction, but there's certainly focus that remains there. "I'm not particularly fond of regrets. I might not be happy with the mistakes I make in life, but I make something out of them all the same. Regrets just keep people from moving forward. Life's also just strange enough that going back to choose a different path might actually not take you on the one you really want. Better not to be bogged down."

There's a small chuckle at the mention of being absolved. "Bartender I can see, priest not so much. They don't get a snappy wardrobe." Nessa teases, genuinely looking amused at the thought. "But you're right, I can confidently say that's not what I'm looking for." There's the slightest bit of sideglance offered to her hand.

Lucifer has posed:
"No, you're looking for a teacher. I remember," Lucifer answers, smoothly, a silky amusement to his words. "Of which I am not either," he clarifies with a soft laugh. "I'd have to occupy some other slot than that." He tilts his head a little, smile still apparent.

"Were you still interested in showing me to your site of haunted soul?" he wonders. "Which does, I must say, intrigue me. Usually that is not the invitation I get extended after a drink at a bar," he chuckles. The bartender, during this, brings over the bill, leaving it nearby. Lucifer doesn't touch it. They'd made a deal, of course.

"Was it that soul who dared trick you, or was it someone else?"

Nessa Donovan has posed:
"It's a good thing I'm not looking for you to teach me then," Nessa agrees with the slightest hint of amusement accompanied by a small chuckle. "I'm sure we can figure something out. You are doing a great job of helping me so far, after all." It's the 'business' talk that draws her back in, though. It sets her at ease. That part she's confident in.

"The soul's the one that tried to use me, yes. Had I known that he was a necromancer and not an ice mage, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have fallen for it. I might broaden my magical horizons at some point but necromancy is definitely not a field I'd venture into. The ice palace is impressive, though. Or was, really. It's less so now."

She nods in his direction, her free hand sliding over to move the bill towards her. She has every intent in honoring her side of the bargain. "I can show it to you. Shouldn't be a problem if we're not going in." She looks at the bill, then at her occupied hand. It'll take both to open her bag and fetch her wallet. Her gaze goes to her bag, then back up at her hand, leaving it where it is.

Lucifer has posed:
Is Lucifer helping her so much, so far? At this point he has been mostly a sounding board for her own thoughts, really, as he is not quite as aware of what is going on in the issues she's having as she is.

Lucifer nods to the answers, and her description of her uncertainty and displeasure related to necromancy. Until she mentions the ice palace. He promptly perks up. It's possibly laughable: he gets a bright expression, big smile. "Ah! The Ice Palace. That I've heard of, and have seen on the news. Is that the haunted spot? How /interesting/." It's like she suggested they go to his favorite strip club, or something.

But he tones it back a few notches as he looks at her look at the bill. He gives her that moment to think things over, and then moves to help her. He runs his fingers over her wrist again, then down slowly over her palm. "I'll still be here," he says softly, perceptively. "I'll hold you again, if you would like." He then opens his hands, as if releasing a timid dove.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
"It's pretty impressive up close, even more impressive to have it made around you. Hard not to fall into a trap when the potential to do that's dangling in front of your face. I doubt there are many who would not have done the same if they were in my shoes. But it's the centerpoint to the whole mess. I can't help but feel like I've got to help because of that."

Nessa's gaze drifts back over in his direction at the offer. It's not something she'd ask of anyone, or even expect, but the simple statement seems to ease her. She doesn't verbally answer, but the look she gives him is so full of gratitude that it's hard not to catch it. There's even the tiniest measure of trust in there. She releases his hand, opening her bag for long enough to fetch her wallet.

Cash is placed, bartender instructed to keep the change as a tip, and the wallet is soon returned to her bag. Her hands once again rest on the bar, but she only rests hers slightly closer. She's waiting for the offer again--a return on her investment of trust.

Lucifer has posed:
Both of Lucifer's hands had been tied up for a while, and he takes the time that she's dealing with the check to finish the last of his drink, setting it on the bar with a soft noise of glass on the wood bartop. It may be unclear if she saw or registered her reaction of gratitude. Either way, he smiles to the barkeep and started to move to stand.

"That it is the Ice Palace makes me all the more interested to see it," Lucifer says, with a warmed pleasure in his tone. How fun! He's like a tourist, in a way. He seems to orient on her position, but doesn't react to it, only goes into what he was doing: which is to offer his arm and elbow to her, again with the gentleman's behavior, expecting to escort her, it seems.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
Nessa gets to her feet, bag tucked carefully over her shoulder once again before she looks towards his offered arm. It's accepted almost as readily as if she'd known it would happen even if she certainly didn't know. It's a natural response. "It's honestly a shame I didn't meet you before all this went down. It would have been nice to show off the interior. The detail alone warrant admiration from almost anyone."

She seems happy to be tour guide, even if their destination isn't exactly a scenic addition to the Bronx anymore. "Maybe I'll try to recreate something like it one day. Without the necromantic bits, though, they bring down the property value. I'd like the challenge, at least."

Lucifer has posed:
"Like it? Hmmm. No, better. Grander." Lucifer listens with interest, but as she takes his arm, he moves in towards her. It's smoothly debonair, eyes on her face.

But then he reaches to the bar with his other hand, and picks up her gloves that were left there. He draws them back towards them with a sly little smile, a crinkle to the sides of his eyes as he still lingers a little close. "I'll look after these for now?" Lucifer asks gently, folding them in half in his free hand, watching her expression. He trades them into the hand attached to the arm she's accepted, and then folds that freed hand over hers on his bicep.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
There's a moment of confusion as Nessa tries to figure out what he's doing, but when he retrieves her gloves her face flushes. How could she have forgotten? If anything, it makes her very much aware of just how distracting the whole situation is. She manages a sheepish-though-embarrassed smile in his direction. "Good catch," she offers. "I didn't even notice."

There's more than one honest admission there. When she feels the hand rest atop hers, there's a small smile. Her hand's warm. "Keep them safe."

Lucifer has posed:
"Safe and sound, right here," Lucifer agrees, with only a slight quirk of his eyebrows. Honesty, as always, resounds both in his tone and his expression. He won't drop or lose them, now that he's said he won't.

Lucifer leads her through the bar and out, into the cooler street outside, and orients on the street signs. "Hmmm, far enough to need to drive? I think it is," Lucifer considers, clearly calculating distance as he remembers the general area of the thing. "Bronx, if I recall?" he asks, looking to her questioningly.

Nessa Donovan has posed:
Nessa takes a moment to scan around. "Yeah, driving is probably wise. It's in the Bronx, used to be a warehouse in a not-so-great part of town. Now it's just really not-so-great. I used to practice in there, mostly for the open space and the fact that no one went in. I found pretty quickly that making ice sculptures and skating rinks out in more populated areas doesn't win you any friends."

Lucifer has posed:
"I don't know, those seem to be things that could make you very popular, actually," Lucifer barters, guiding her to the curb. He hails a taxi very quickly without any problem, and will even open the door for Nessa. All class, it seems, with Lucifer.

The Ice Palace awaits!