Lux - Tuesday

[wayward_sun]

The door from Milliways does indeed lead into Lucifer’s bedroom.
Having gotten a room at Milliways that he’d feel at home in, the scenery does not change much.
Glass, chrome, expensive sheets, expansive bed.
There’s a piano - and there’s a very nice (and very expensive) view of L.A. From the two, huge windows, spanning from floor to ceiling.

At the other end of the living space is a floor to ceiling bar, complete with counter and plenty of bottles, neatly lined up. And a door that looks like the door to an elevator.
Because that is what it is.

“Come on in,” Lucifer says, ushering him through.
“Drink?”

Comments

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee follows Lucifer through the door, not knowing what to expect, except possibly even more luxury than he's ever been surrounded by.

As he passes the bed, he can't help but run his fingertips over the sheets. But when he enters the living space, his jaw drops. It's not a living room, it's just so much space. The piano! The bar! The view!

Emcee is rooted to the spot for a moment. And then he finds his words.

"Oh, yes, please," he says breathily, making his way over to the counter. "Whatever you're having."

[wayward_sun]

Lucifer pours whiskey (four fingers - if you have big fingers) in two conveniently placed glasses and hands Emcee one of them.
“Here you go. If you want to enjoy the view you should go out on the balcony.”

Because yes there is.

[i_am_your_host]

"Thank you," he says with a smile, taking the glass and sipping its generously poured contents. He hums with approval at the warm flavor; it's obviously top shelf.

"Ooh, may I?"

As Emcee wanders across the expanse of the room, noting the decor (um...parts of the walls look as if they were taken from an ancient temple, but ok, you do you, Lucifer), he is drawn to the view from the balcony. It's a surprisingly warm evening, pleasantly so, and from this extreme height there's a light breeze that ruffles his hair. The cityscape is unlike anything he's ever seen. It's so...American.

[wayward_sun]

They match the furniture!
(And maybe he likes them).
Lucifer follows, drink in hand, and leans against the wall.

"I like it up here," he says. "Even if the city lights kill most of the sunset. And the stars."

[i_am_your_host]

"Mm, the stars," he muses, looking up and seeing none. It's a little startling.

"At least it's peaceful. You can barely hear the traffic even though it looks terribly busy down there."

Emcee ventures a peek over the railing to glimpse the unending trails of car headlights on the streets below.

[wayward_sun]

Lucifer hops onto the railing to sit, utterly comfortable next to the lethal drop.

"It is. I like that about this place."
Smiling.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee widens his eyes at Lucifer's daring, reactively holding his glass just a little bit tighter as he takes a sip. Feeling just a tad braver, he lightly rests a hand on the railing.

Extreme heights were never his thing.

"You said that you've been living here for about five years? What was it like, when you came here and decided to stay?"

[wayward_sun]

"It's quite a funny story," Lucifer chuckles.

"It was an MMA bar when I got here first. Named Rico's. I bought it and shined it up and voila."

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee smiles and tilts his head at him.

"MMA? What does that stand for?"

[wayward_sun]

"Mixed Martial Arts. I went a couple of rounds with Amanadiel in one of the cages."

He grins, woolfishly.
"That was fun."

[i_am_your_host]

He blinks.

"Mixed martial...? In a bar? But-- wait, you fought your brother?"

[wayward_sun]

Lucifer looks confused.
"Yes?"

[i_am_your_host]

He blinks some more, looking up at him.

"That must have been a hell of a fight," he remarks (pun maybe intended?). "I'm assuming there was an audience for this spectacle?"

Two divine beings going at it in a cage?

[wayward_sun]

"Yes, we did draw quite a crowd," Lucifer says.
Pleased with himself.

[i_am_your_host]

"You just don't seem like a very punchy-fighty type to me," he then says wryly, taking another sip of his drink.

"Dare I ask who won?"

[wayward_sun]

"I have unfathomable depths," Lucifer replies.

"And I did. I can be quite punchy-fighty."

By submission and because Amanadiel had to be a sanctimonious twat but details, right.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee giggles at that, because a seemingly elegant Englishman using Emcee's own silly words back at him is amusing. And cute.

"Well, that's good to know. And it's a good thing that you turned the club into something less violent. I mean, I can only imagine the clean-up involved."

[wayward_sun]

"Yes. There was quite a bit of blood involved," Lucifer says, nodding.
"Now we rarely get anything more exciting than spilled drinks."

[i_am_your_host]

"A small price to pay," he chuckles. " and I bet the clientele is far more attractive than if you'd kept the fight club. "

[wayward_sun]

"It certainly is," Lucifer agrees and empties his glass.
"And I get to have a piano."

It would have clashed with the cages.

[i_am_your_host]

"Exactly," Emcee chirps.

He is also intrigued by the fact that he has his own piano in his apartment. It means that he genuinely likes playing it, and isn't just for show.

"Do you think you'll be performing a number tonight at Lux? I would really like to experience that."

Eyelash batting?

[wayward_sun]

"I likely will. The weekday crowds are less intense."

[i_am_your_host]

"Marvelous," Emcee beams. "I'm looking forward to it."

He moves closer, sliding his hand along the railing until it touches Lucifer's leg.

"Anything else I can look forward to?"

[wayward_sun]

He smiles.
Slowly.

"That's not unthinkable."

[i_am_your_host]

"It's good to keep our options open," he says, giving his thigh a light pat.

"Perhaps we might run into some of your regulars...? Or some adventurous newcomers..."