9181/It followed me home

It followed me home
Date of Scene:	20 December 2021
Location:	Sara and Cael's apartment
Synopsis:	A demon visits Cael -- followed by Lucifer and Sims.
Cast of Characters:	Lucifer, Cael Becker, Jonathan Sims
Tinyplot:	Path of Glory

---

Lucifer has posed:
On Sunday, the demons at the Laughing Magician were scattered. The light of the spell, the word of some high angel-- all very overworldly and powerful, it seemed.

One of those demons seemed to have been just obliterated. ... But was it?

Or did a shred remain?

A tiny tendril gropes it's way slowly up the side of the Greenpoint apartments, following Cael Becker. It clung under the rear wheel of the motorcycle, a crushed black soggy ghost cornflake, disoriented after the exciting joy-ride she had, and after a small rest, has now doggedly continued. Maybe it sensed something related to her. Sometimes demons get very single-minded about things, or people: it's how hauntings come about. This one has made it to the window sill outside .... and brushed on the protective wards as it tries to caress the window, though it hasn't entered yet. The sense of the wards is there, and it's still outside.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Sunday, Cael had spent the day dead to the world, curled up in her own bed, too full of pain and misery and despair to move. Monday, she forced herself to get up, moving with a leaden weight with every step. She showered, she dressed, she went to training. She had a talk with Sims that made her heart ache - that made every inch of her feel like a raw sore of painful emotions. A long ride on her motorcycle had helped clear her head.
    And now she was home, dropping into a seat at her desk, and staring blankly at the wall - unaware of the scrap of demon at her window. Unaware of anything except how overwhelming reality has become of late, and how helpless it all still felt.
    Was this the powerlessness that had driven Chas to start this mess? Fuck.

Lucifer has posed:
When nothing burns the demon's face off, it still waits a little bit. It's weak, but persistant, and makes a move to attempt to sneak in despite the ward. That, though, feels a bit toasty for it, so it pauses outside, considering its options. Is patience the best solution? Perhaps to wait by the bike....

The demon sits there, waiting to see if the wards react, and staring inside with a singular empty eye. Hmmmmmmm....

Cael Becker has posed:
    It's stupid, and pointless - it's almost laughably childish - but Cael turns to Google for help. 'How do you kill an angel?' 'What are the weaknesses of angels?' How does she know if any of this is real? Or it's just nonsense made up by some fantasy writer a few decades ago? How does she test it - call Michael over for a cup of tea?
    Right. That would go well.
    She pushes herself away from her desk with frustration, and lets her chair wheel and spin - before she abruptly gets up, making her way down from the apartment, and into a small alleyway beside it. There, she pulls out of her pocket something she'd picked up. ...weed was legal now in New York, and she needed //something// to take the edge off. Would it play nice with the medications she was already on?
    Did she care?
    Awkwardly, and inexpertly, she rolls herself a joint and lights it up.

Lucifer has posed:
The demon's single eye tracks the movement of Cael out of the room, and it tests the wards once more... before realizing she has actually left the zone of wards, and it can act. It draws away from the nasty wards, and begins to descend, slowly.

Finally, moving into a better position, it begins a slow approach, invisible for the moment...

"Do you still want him to burn?" whispers the demon. Soft, but a bit insisting. The ghostly face from the window on Sunday starts to materialize. "He deserves to burn."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael takes one puff at her joint, then a second - and that's when the voice speaks. She takes a step back, looking to the space where the voice originated, a wary expression on her features. Strange voices and whispers are probably not a good thing - not by any stretch of the imagination. But it asks what she had, after all, just been trying to figure out.
    "...of course I do," she answers. "But a deal with a mystic entity is what started this mess... What do you want?"

Lucifer has posed:
"Tell us what happened," suggests the demon, moving down slowly, the single eye there, in the darkish, floating mass. It's the same as the window at the Laughing Magician - same presence, though a lot smaller. Yet, still coaxing. It doesn't touch her, just stares.

"Can work together, against our awful enemy," continues the voice, with an edge of anger. It does not care for the angel at all.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "What happened?" Cael asks - letting out a bitter, angry laugh. "It got in my head. It made me want to pay for my sins. It made me nail myself to a cross.
    "We captured it, but it broke free, and now it wants to destroy the world and rob all of humanity of its free will. Make them be what it made me be. A puppet. That's what happened." She takes another drag on her joint, holding her breath for a moment, and willing that sense of wellbeing that this stuff is //supposed// to cause to take hold. Something, anything, to ease what she was feeling.

Lucifer has posed:
The little demon has been annoyingly evasive, at least to Lucifer's view. He has better things to do than chase demons that were ripped into tiny shreds. But, he did say he'd take care of these, and he intends to do exactly what he said he would.

"About time," Lucifer sighs quietly, before he enters the bottom of an alley, having caught the trail of his tiny quarry. His gaze slants up and across, spotting the fluff of demon, and Cael as well. Curiosity comes quickly onto Lucifer's face.

Lucifer doesn't look like a demon, devil, or angel - not on first sight. He blends in perfectly with humanity - though he does feel a bit off in his beauty, like a model that's had too much plastic surgery work. Overly 'improved.'

"Puppets," breathes the demon, as if that weren't so bad. But then, there's Lucifer, interrupting. "Ixxel, you're quite done here; no possessions today," Lucifer calls calmly to the little demon. It reacts, twisting, but obeys Lucifer immediately, rushing towards him, and chattering in a weird-pitchy demonic language. The tone is clearly it bargaining, begging, explaining, even if Cael isn't able to speak the language.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael looks uncertainly - warily - between the scrap of a demon, and the all too perfect man that approaches, and obviously controls this... thing. This thing that was all too familiar. That the Archangel Michael had smote.
    But if angels weren't what people though they were - maybe demons weren't either? That logic, though, leads to dangerous place.
    "Who are you?" she asks Lucifer bluntly. "What power do you have over this... thing?"

Lucifer has posed:
"Before we get to that answer-- priorities, if I may?" Lucifer asks, polite. He approaches, with a relaxed, non-aggressive manner. Lucifer closes one hand over the smokey little demon bit, twists his hand back and aside, and the demon seems to be gone.

"You're unharmed, I hope?" Lucifer asks, intending to get a bit closer, to search her eyes for any trace of compulsion. There's a clear intent to check on her -- to see that she wasn't harmed by the demon.

Then his eyes fall onto her joint, and his brows lift, a smile coming forward, as he reaches into his coat and removes what looks like a handmade cigarette of his own, and a very shiny golden lighter. "Good idea," he says with high approval, and takes the time to light and enjoy his own, with a deep inhale, and relaxing exhale. Whatever he's smoking is high potency, the scent of it strong.

Lucifer's aura, his ambiance, is often very relaxing, very calming, when he intends it to be, though it can have different effects. Some people relax their inhibitions, some get defensive, others are immune... it can vary, as much as a drug reaction can be individual.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "I'm... fine," Cael answers.
    She absolutely isn't, but it certainly isn't the little demon's fault. She watches Lucifer with dubious, cautious expression, edging back a little, as he moves closer to inspect her.
    Her gaze remains on the man - and little by little, she can an air of calm, and well-being slowly starting to take affect - though it's unclear if it's Lucifer's doing, or the affects of the very literal drugs she was inhaling. "Why would you care if I was harmed or not?" she asks. Anyone that could control a creature such as that... Why would it be concerned with her?

Lucifer has posed:
"You know, very few of us are," Lucifer answers, conversationally. He doesn't pursue her, but does take a seat nearby. "Fine, that is," he adds, after a drag of the cigarette he has. It doesn't smell 'right', it smells strange, sort of a mix of woody scents.

"I'm certainly not, and lying about it serves nobody," chuckles the man. His smile is warm and even. "I seem to spend overmuch time corralling demons, it's tiresome business. They do, I admit, pick interesting people, though. A magnetic attraction to torture those that don't deserve it."

Lucifer pauses, to cock his head at her. "It sounded like a great many things have been flung your way that may not be deserved. Demons among them." He lifts a few fingers, in a sort of 'hold on' motion. "I did overhear a little when I reached the alley. The end of all humanity. Heavy stuff, you'd best be in good health, free of demonic possession, to face all of that." The grin is quick, eyes flared, with a lift of brows. Lucifer's lightly teasing her.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Not sure I can face that," Cael remarks a little flatly. "But I'm also not being given much choice." After all, they'd tried to convince Michael of his folly - all to no avail.
    She looks down at the joint still in her hand, and takes another drag on it, letting the smoke out slowly. It was probably a bad idea to be compromising her thinking in the company of this man - but there was a part of her that was beyond caring.
    "Am I supposed to thank you for sending that thing away?" she asks bluntly. "For all I know you sent it here."

Lucifer has posed:
"Mmmm, there's always a choice. Whether you can live with those other options, well, that's part of the choice," Lucifer shrugs a little. He moves one leg, resting his forearm now against the knee as he sits, with this interesting recline he now has going on. He has a fearless, languid quality to his positioning.

"Thank me? No." Lucifer chuckles. "Had I done a formal exorcism, I may have expected a thanks. But no, I agreed to banish a group of demons that were harassing the group splattered with 'angelic' influence, and I've done that."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Agreed," Cael repeats - leaning back against the wall of her building as she watches Lucifer in his casual recline. "Who did you make that promise to?" she asks.
    She's yet to really get an informative answer out of this being. Why should he start now? But still - she has to ask.

Lucifer has posed:
"Dr. Sims," Lucifer gives without any real hesitation. Certain facts he'll give freely, it appears, but he skirted a few other questions she asked. Still, there hasn't been any suggestion of lies. Either he dodged entirely, or gave a very truthful sounding reply.

"Who I know is rather in the center of all of this now, isn't he?" Lucifer asks, gently. "A center spoke of this wheel set in motion."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "He is," Cael confirms quietly.
    There's a moment of silence before she asks, "So - who are you then? Seeing as I could just, I don't know, message Sims that I'm sitting out here sharing a joint with you. Who would he say you are?" She makes no move to pull out her phone just yet, though, as she continues to lean back against the building.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer chuckles and goes back into his pocket again. This time, it's a business card; sleek black with silvery lettering that also glints red. It's not supernatural, it's just fancy cardstock, though.

"Text away, I have nothing to hide. Tell him you're sitting with Lucifer, the nightclub owner. I currently run Lux, on the Upper West Side; do you know it?" Lucifer's good at this -- at not lying, but also suggesting he's just a little weird, not the /Devil/. It leaves people free to adjust in their own time.

"These demons belong to one of my employees. One hell of a bouncer, let me say, but the little minions... do their own thing. He's not able to be out in daylight, though... so here we are. But I've had it with them. I have a no-possession policy."

Lucifer uses his other hand to procure another two cigarettes -- and offers her one, brows lifted. "...Unless you prefer something harder. I do have some heroin." His eyes glint with a slight merry tease. He might be kidding.

Cael Becker has posed:
    The card is offered and accepted, and Cael studies it for a moment, before looking again at the man across from her. She'd have laughed at the notion that this was //Lucifer// not long ago - but he had sent away a demon. And - well. She'd been kidnapped and tortured by the Archangel Michael.
    All things seem possible these days.
    She's just pulling out her phone to send a text when that offer is made - and she freezes for a moment, an expression of longing crossing her features. After a deep breath, though, she shakes her head wordlessly, and types out her text to Sims.
    'So, the owner of the Lux is...?'
    "I've never been to the Lux myself. Too upscale for me," she remarks simply.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer laughs a little bit, "Yes, it does have a strict dress code. Such as it is," Lucifer says. Things get a little interesting in the back rooms of Lux, where all sorts of odd fantasies occur. But at the door - upscale, yes.

"I've found it's easier to make a lot of money from an upscale place, compared to a dive bar," Lucifer winks. "Not that I don't dress down and enjoy a dive bar now and again."

Lucifer watches her text with total tolerance, no annoyance, but does get his own phone to browse a little, since they're doing that. Looks like just social media skimming.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Doesn't surprise me that's where the money is," Cael murmurs in a quiet, slightly distracted voice, as she engages in a little furious thumb-typing.

Sims:
    ...Bloody hell.
    Is he the demon that pinged my alarm? I'm already on the way. I should have called, but it's a hop and a jump from Queens.

Cael:
    So what you're telling me is I shouldn't accept heroin from Lucifer.
    No, it was one of his pets that set it off. He sent it away.

Sims:
    You absolutely should NOT accept heroin from Lucifer. But... well. Good that he sent it away. I'll be there shortly regardless.

Cael:
    I'd already turned him down.

Sims:
    I don't know whether to trust him or not. He's nice enough, and I'm inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt, especially given what we're dealing with, but I want to know more about his agenda before I /trust/ him.

Cael:
    Thumbsup emoji.

    Cael stares at her phone for a moment after the quiet pings of messages back and forth have died out - and she looks across at Lucifer, with a thoughtful frown on her features. He would have a vested interest in stopping Michael, wouldn't he?
    And Sims had already admitted that he couldn't, himself, try to get out of the deal that he'd made...
    "...so you'd have a vested interest in stopping Michael from destroying reality and remaking it without any freewill, yeah?" she asks, before taking another drag. She needed to steady her nerves. Was she being as dumb as Chas? Fuck. Fuck.

Lucifer has posed:
"Well, /that/ escalated quickly," Lucifer observes, before glancing at her with a brow arched. His social media skimming looks like a little duck dancing in a top hat. It seems her content was a lot more serious.

His look isn't mean or annoyed, but appraising. How is she taking it?

Is she going to vomit on his shoes?

It's happened before.

"Give me a moment to adjust to this new topic," Lucifer smiles a bit, as he takes another deep pull from his odd-smelling, comfortably warm and fuzzy smokey cigarettes. "So your question is... do I want reality to not be destroyed?" He gives her a curious little look. Is she really asking him that?

Cael Becker has posed:
    "I'm pretty sure the Prince of Darkness is capable of keeping up with a little topic change," Cael replies in a dry tone. "You know what I'm asking - and you have a fair notion of why. What can you contribute? For the sake of saving your club, and the rest of reality."
    This is dangerous, dangerous ground - but she hadn't summoned him. She hadn't offered him a deal, or offered to sign a contract. They were just... talking. This was fine, right? ... right?
    Fuck, she hoped so.

Lucifer has posed:
"Ability and the /will/ to do so are two different things," Lucifer teases her in return as she accuses him of being perfectly able to follow. He doesn't seem irritated, there's still a smile there. Nothing about him has been aggressive in the slightest; he's relaxed, companionable, and conversationally engaged.

"Considering you're speaking to one of the few people in existence that has /fought/ the holy host and is still around, I'd say I'm a considerable resource," Lucifer gives, then, with a hooded, sharp little sideways look. He reduces the harshness of it with a smile, though, and any bite to his gaze fades off. He doesn't feel supernatural - it's all cloaked.

"What is it you hope for here?" Lucifer asks, then, with a slight /push/. His aura is coaxing, though never forceful - free will is still entirely heeded. He just makes it easier for those that do want to unburden.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "What do I want?" Cael asks. That's easy. That's //simple//. "I want to stop Michael from taking Sims," she says simply. "I want to hurt Michael. And I want to save our world."
    ...was that order her order of importance? Hopefully not.
    After a last drag at her joint, she drops it to the floor, and crushes it with her boot. "I don't suppose you want to help with any of those - simply out of the goodness of your heart? You said Sims was at the center of all this. Protecting him... protects the world," she proposes simply.

Lucifer has posed:
"I'm not familiar with the specifics of why he's taking the doctor," Lucifer says simply. Doctor, meaning Sims. "Or exactly how this much ire was brought down on your heads specifically. I'm not omniscient - that's reserved for the /true/ peeping toms..." A point upwards and a roll of his eyes. God does not earn particular respect from Lucifer.

"But I /am/ very good with contracts, if there's some agreement or blackmail going on here. If you're asking if I'd bring an army -- probably not a good idea. Hellgates would level this place. I keep those /closed/. I like this city."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon's wearing his green cardigan, bulging slightly on one side where he carries his ICER, collapsed staff swinging at his side like a baton. He quite literally walks past the alley with his head bent over his phone and then... stops. Turns around. It's half the smell that alerts him, half the flash of familiar aura in the corner of his vision.

    So he goes back, to peer down the alley at the pair smoking down that way. "Cael?" he calls. More to be polite than out of any question. He'd know that dimmed-fire aura anywhere.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Hey Sims," Cael answers calmly and casually from her position leaning back against the brick building that was her home. "Luci here," yes, she really did just shorten the name of the Prince of Darkness without so much as a By Your Leave, "is offering joints. You want one?
    "Oh, and I was seeing how much hellfire he's willing to bring to bear. Not so sure about contracts, though..." That sounds like trouble to her.

Lucifer has posed:
"Hello," So cheerful, aimed at Sims.

Luci doesn't mind or even stare at Cael for the shortening. He does not care, it appears. Considering other names for him, that is really just fine.

"Devil's lettuce or heroin. I have a small amount of a few other things." Shockingly Lucifer is a source of drugs, addictive bad decisions. Shocking.

"Overall I'd rather stay out of it. I make an appearance and he'll be all over my ass. And not in a fun way. I /can/ fight him, we've fought other times. It's just a hassle," Lucifer complains, as if he were talking about having to move the bins out early on a Monday morning.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon strides right on down the alley and peers at Cael, hands twitching at his sides. He frowns for a moment and then nods as if satisfied. Turns to Lucifer and raises a brow. "What was it?" There's a nervous energy to him, like a man who'd half-expected to come on a dead body or something. A lot of that bled away since texting Cael, but he'd still bolted out of his office the second he felt the prodding from the alarm ward.

    He'll put two and two together about what they're talking about in a moment, surely.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Well, fuck, I'd rather stay out of it, too," Cael counters in a dry tone. "I could stay home, and smoke some amazing weed, and let someone //else// save all of reality. But, shit, who knows what action it is that turns the tide? You're really going to risk sitting this shit out?" she asks bluntly.
    Yeah. It's not going to take Jon much to figure this conversation out.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer releases a very deep, put-upon sigh, and sits back on his little spot, to inhale and enjoy his cigarette. Hard to tell exactly what it has in it - and it probably isn't important. It's strong, whatever it is, based on the cloud form.

He doesn't answer Sims' question either. "I have not decided exactly what I will do yet," Lucifer replies. He uses his free hand to rub across his eyes once. It's a very human gesture - things like that make him seem very opposite from the cold mask of something like Michael.

"He's very punctual; did he give you a date to expect to die?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon's eyes narrow for a moment. "I will not die," he says bluntly. "Eye for an eye. I burned all the feathers off his wing with some of that water you gave me, so I presume he'll make me feel an equally terrible pain. Perhaps inflict extra punishment for the others I stepped in to save. But he is not dead; therefore I will not die." He says it like he knows, of a certainty.

    "As for a date? No. He just gave me time to prepare. I suspect longer than Cael thinks, but it could be as early as January 6th. And before you offer, I have no interest in backing out of the deal nor having it severed. I stepped up in good faith to save my friends from retribution that we /did/ earn. There must be balance for what we did, and I can take that on myself."

    He turns to Cael. "What was it that came at the wards, then? A pet demon, you said?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    "But he can maim you. By those rules - if you're even right about these rules - he can main you. Destroy a limb? Try to limit your usefulness that way?" Cael suggests. "In addition to all the pain he'll cause you." All the trauma. "How will you be in any condition to fight?" She grits her teeth for a moment before she adds, "You said you wouldn't try to wiggle your way out of this. Well, you're not the one asking Luci here, now are you?"
    She fixes her gaze back onto Lucifer. "You said Jon was at the center. He's needed then." So save him. "We need him to save reality." She tries to hold the 'man's' gaze - if that's what he really is, before she flicks her attention briefly back to Jon.
    "The thing from the window, I think. I guess it followed me."

Lucifer has posed:
"Maybe. He may feel you're under my influence. He'll know I enabled you, that's my personal piss on his parade," Lucifer admits. "But to be /fair/ I gave it to you when it was more likely a lesser angel that would die from it outright."

"Ah, the demon. It was Ixxel. It's one of the lesser demons that serves one of my personal assistants. An attempt to curry favor by obtaining information, possibly to coax a witness back." Right. "I thought Ixxel was destroyed, but evidently not. I've banished him now, as I told you that I would, Dr. Sims." Simple enough.

"I said he's at the center. Removing him might stop this, break the wheel. Hard to say what mess exactly was made here, or that my further involvement won't rally MORE to his cause." Aligning with Lucifer may cause damage. "I suffer some woeful reputation problems."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Cael..." Jon's voice is oddly soft, for a moment, as he looks at her. He sighs. "Thank you," he says softly. "For trying. I get it. But, if I lose an arm... then I lose an arm, and I go on. If I need to, I create a magical prosthetic. Besides, I'm /not/ a fighter, Cael. I'm a /healer/, and that I can do with one arm."

    He frowns between Cael and Lucifer. "I don't understand. At the center...?" He shifts uncomfortably. "I... suppose so, yes. By virtue of being the Archivist, the... Watcher. Being one of those set out to ensure immortals and powerful beings are kept in check. Not sure the Great Mother expected it to mean stopping Michael Archangel destroying the universe, but... She said She has faith in us." And he has faith in Her, by his tone, by the quiet aura of power when he says that.

    He heaves a heavy, heavy sigh. "He's right, though Cael. Michael's entire reason for doing this in the /first/ place is that he doesn't like the way Lucifer designed the universe--or at least, that's what I'm given to understand. Doesn't like the 'free will' business. I deeply suspect the way to solve this is to convince Michael that free will is good /regardless/ of demonic involvement in the matter."

    He looks at Lucifer and nods. "Thank you for being rid of it, then. Can't trust Michael to do anything properly, it seems."

Cael Becker has posed:
    A swing and a miss. Cael lets out a frustrated sound as both Sims and Lucifer point out the holes in her simplistic plan, and she kicks in frustration at a discarded soda bottle, sending it ricocheting down the length of the alley and out of sigh.
    Well, shit.
    "I don't understand how you can just accept this," she says flatly, still trying desperately to find a way out of this.
    Her gaze shifts to Lucifer before she asserts. "Maybe the other angels won't be okay with any of this shit. Maybe we talk to them - get them on our side. Get //them// to intervene. How do we text message the Heavenly Host?"

Lucifer has posed:
"I didn't /design/ free will," Lucifer reminds dryly. "I did not create myself. I simply support this /adaptability/ as something other than a challenge to be overcome. I won't be blamed for my existance."

Lucifer's mood is still pleasant, but there's a deadly thing under it now, and undercurrent that feels like a warm riptide. Lucifer's sunny and pleasant, but there's small indicators of the creature of hell.

Lucifer glances at Cael. "Contact them? You don't. That's the clan of absentee landlords. Make the thing and leave you to deal with living in it. I can talk to them. If I agree with what you decide you want to say. I don't like them much. I mean, you've met Michael."

Lucifer has finished his smoking, and languidly starts to get up. "Unalike them, you can contact me." He brushes his hands off of the dirt from where he'd reclined.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Honor," Jon says simply. "I gave my word. I serve truth and justice--if I go back on my word, then I'm not /myself/ anymore, and I refuse to let some damn archangel scare me into not being who I am." He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "And if I can't stop it, then... why rail against it? If there was a hurricane coming I wouldn't yell at the storm or scream at the Weather Channel. I'd lay in supplies and make sure the windows were boarded up and I didn't have anything in the basement."

    He glances to Lucifer. "I'm just repeating how Michael sees things. I never said I agreed with him. I suppose it makes sense that a creature of pure order would refuse to see free will as something naturally occurring." He shrugs. "You can talk to him about correcting the misconception. I hear he's on his way."

    He has a thoughtful expression on his face. As if either Cael or Lucifer or both has given him an idea. He seems to file it quietly away, though.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "I'd yell into the god damned storm. It's what I did when Michael had me." It was all she could do.
    Cael's shoulders slump as she leans back against the wall, trying to let affects of the joint quiet her panic and desperation. It does, a little, when she stops fighting the effect out of sheer stubborness.
    "What if we just asked them 'Hey guys - did you know Michael's not at the gates because he's planning to destroy all of creation?'"

Lucifer has posed:
"Yeah, I'll just reassess my argument, he'll be all ears this time," Lucifer laughs, as Jon suggests he talk to Michael. Yeah, right.

"Sharing the information could work. If you had proof." Lucifer yawns a little, and smiles overly brightly.

"Anyhow. It's time I were off. Good talk, though. If I think of something I'll update you," Lucifer says. He doesn't fly off -- he removes some car-keys from a pocket, and plays with them as he lifts a hand and strolls away. Indeed, he's parked just down the way, in an exotic sportscar -- parked directly in front of a hydrant.

With that, though, Lucifer disappears out into the city, in a roar of engine.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon sighs and watches Lucifer go, then sticks his hands in his pockets and turns back to Cael. "Do you want me to get someone over here to put up proper wards? Maybe Phoebe can." If it'd help her feel better.

    A pause, then he adds, indicating the joint, "Good idea, that. Good for anxiety. I should've thought of it myself."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Still a Federal crime. And I'm still a Federal agent," Cael points out dryly. "But... fuck it. I need it. And it's only illegal as a tool to suppress people of color, yeah? I'm white, so I'm fine."
    Oh, God, now we're getting into sarcastic commentary on race in America? Great.
    She pushes off from the wall as she adds, "Wards would be good."
    Her mood may be vastly oscillating - but at least she isn't completely broken yet. They'll have to take that as a good thing...

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon snorts and rolls his eyes. "So I shouldn't be smoking it. Right."

    "Wards," he adds. "Got it." He swallows, and adds, "Be well, Cael."

    Then he turns and heads back out of the alley, confident at least that the alarm ward /worked/.