hellicious | Little Hades IC Inbox

[Lloyd tenses at the hand on his back -- it's that familiarity again, that brings back memories he'd much rather keep buried -- but he tells himself to relax. It's fine. The devil dude is just being friendly.]

Sure thing.

[He puts the two bags with the bottles on a table and glances at Lucifer curiously. The shower sounds awesome, especially so to Lloyd, whose shower likes to spit unwanted substances at him. It's barely ever usable. First things first, though.]

You threw the orgy here? Doesn't it get kinda... I dunno, sticky?

[Lloyd's never been to an orgy. He thinks it sounds way too awkward and overcrowded. He's really unsure how one goes about throwing one, or cleaning up after.]

Here, there, doesn't really matter where, does it? Besides, we had to test that it was as promised, mm? You can squeeze eight in there if no one minds getting close. Very close. But clean up? Well, that's what services are for. Or if I'm of a mind to, I can do it myself in a pinch.

[He stood by the bottles, bending down to pick one of the scotches up, looking the label over with an approving hum.]

Good. How much?

[Lloyd spends a moment doing the math in his head.]

160. [He's factoring in the number of trips it took to find the specific brands, and the tenners he had to slip the security guard at the welcome center to look the other way. The sweaty trip over to Lucifer's place, too. It's a fair price, he thinks. He doesn't want to go lower or higher, with the former ruler of hell.*] I can knock ten off if you let me use the shower.

[It might be a little bit rude to ask of the devil, but if the guy hosted orgies in there, he shouldn't mind it too much, right?]

Not to jerk off or anything weird. Just to shower. The shower at my place likes to spit slime at me, and with Little Eden out of commission, I don't got many options.

*ooc: I just made up a number so LET'S ASSUME it's fair for hell smuggling.

[Lucifer took another moment to look at the bottle, setting it down and reaching into his pocket. He pulled out two hundred, passing it over without a second thought. It was only money after all. Money was supposed to get things, and now he had things. Much better than silly currency.]

You're welcome to it. And I won't even ask to watch; but I can't promise Maze isn't lurking around somewhere. She's quiet when she wants to be.

[He picked up all the bottles and went over to the wet bar, setting them in with the others he had before he pulled up one of the scotches, opening it and taking a sniff before pouring a glass.]

Well? Go on, then. Clean up and you can sit and have a drink with me and tell me all about yourself.

[A generous devil dude. Well, that's nice. Lloyd pockets the bill, shooting Lucifer an appreciative smile. He likes money. It's what stands between him and the demon dumpster called the Hive. Not to mention between the mob and his balls.

That crack about watching him in the shower gets him blushing faintly, and he's not sure if it's supposed to be a joke, or what. It doesn't help that Lucifer kind of hard to look away from, even though Lloyd's learned sense of self-preservation tells him he should probably steer clear of the guy. He doesn't ask for a clarification about this "Maze". It sounds like Lucifer has a cat who likes to surprise people in the shower or something.

He heads for the shower, and it's just as awesome as Lucifer described. Lloyd stays in there for a little bit longer than is strictly necessary; showers aren't just a way of washing the sweat and dirt off, to him, they're kinda how he gets his head straight. He gets dressed, and when he emerges, he's feeling as refreshed as he's ever been in hell.]

Thanks, man. [He walks over to the bar, trying to act more casual, though he's still torn between nerves and that strange attraction.] That really hit the spot.

People always do tend to take the little things for granted, but they're often the things we miss the most.

[Lucifer was already seated with a glass, the bottle on the bar for Lloyd to pour from if he wanted. He could see the way the man (boy) looked at him, as if he was wary, a little scared, and yet interested all in one. He didn't mind that look. He knew that look. It was much more predictable than some.]

Sit, if you like. I won't make you, but I wouldn't mind the company. If we're to be seeing each other for business when we can, it can't hurt to shoot the breeze a little, mm?

Yeah, 'course.

[Shooting the breeze with the devil, why the hell not? It's nice of Lucifer not to insist on it, and it's not like Lloyd's too eager to venture back into the streets to be baked and roasted by the sun and lose all that nice post-shower feeling.

He takes a seat, pours himself a little scotch, and tries not to stare at Lucifer too hard. It's kinda tough.]

So how's your... vacation from hell going? The other hell.

[Usually, with the devil types, Lloyd doesn't tend to be very chatty. He's worried about saying the wrong thing and ending up a splatter on the floor. But it's better to say something than keep staring like an idiot.]

Not much of a vacation, is it? It's rather like expecting an exotic cruise and getting saddled with a leaky canoe and a bucket. Earth was... fun. L.A. in particular was lovely. Sex, drugs, music...

[There's a fond sigh as he remembers Lux, remembers how much fun he'd been having -- before it had all gone to shit. He supposed he should be grateful he'd had five years out of ten billion, but in light of that dramatic difference in numbers, he felt a little cheated.

Sipping at his drink, he watched Lloyd, smiling as he set the glass on his thigh.]

Don't look so worried. I get a bad rap, yes, but I promise I won't bite... unless you ask. It wouldn't be good business, nor do I tend to punish without a reason to. Down here, I'd say that'd be someone else's edict.

[Lloyd sips the scotch, watching Lucifer with an uncertain look. He'll just... ignore that biting offer, filing it away under the million other things he doesn't know what to do with.]

I'm not-- worried about that, exactly. Well, I guess I am, a little bit. I've done enough bad shit that I got reason to be concerned, you know?

[And that's not a comfortable feeling, dealing with a guy whose job was to punish all sinners and knowing that he's got a premium spot on the naughty list. But he'll take Lucifer's word about it not being his responsibility down here.]

But I also worked for a guy back in Las Vegas. He was a little bit like you.

[Superficially, anyway. Flagg had an explosive temper underneath that smooth, relaxed charm, and the wrong move at the wrong time could mean getting torn to pieces. Lloyd is getting the sense that Lucifer isn't quite like that, but he needs time getting used to the idea. He likes to watch his step with people much more powerful than him. It seems like the smart play.]

[Mistaking Lucifer for a harmless kitten would be a mistake. For the most part, he was docile, mostly because he'd given up that role he'd been forced into. He was good at punishing people, and recently, he'd found that he enjoyed doing it in the name of justice as opposed to 'because they were in Hell', but outside of that, he was trying to learn other things. And above all, one had to keep in mind he was not now, nor had he ever been, human. He was an angel; fallen, but still decidedly not human. There was much he'd never experienced and didn't understand on that basis alone. He might be trying to figure some of it out, but he often fell short of the mark.

Then there was the issue of his Pride...]

My dear boy, no one is like me.

[He felt confident in that statement. There were those that might want to be like him, but they weren't any more than he was 'good'.]

Any more than I'm like any of the other Lucifers around here. There's more than one, you know. Or has been. Seem they like to hop about a bit. Frankly, I'm happy staying in the place least like genuine Hell, if only for the fun factor.

But enough about me -- for now. What about you, Lloyd? What did you do for this pale imitation of me?

[The way he said Lloyd's name was like he was rolling it around in his mouth, tasting it, playing with it. It didn't help that he levered a wicked grin at the man as he did so.]

[Lloyd gives an agreeable little shrug at this "no one is like me" business. Of course the devil comes bundled with a huge fucking ego. Just like Flagg did. Lloyd knows it's better to just accept it. The guy is the former ruler of hell, and that's a pretty big deal.

He feels his face heating up again when Lucifer grins at him like that. His teeth graze his lower lip, and he takes another drink. There's still some old loyalty in him that makes him want to protest that "pale imitation" dig, only he knows that Flagg was something like an impostor. A wannabe. Maybe not an imitation of this Lucifer, specifically. But of the idea of him. Flagg was demonic, all right, but he wasn't really the devil.]

I was his right-hand man. Did whatever he needed me to do.

[There's a dim bleakness to Lloyd's tone that makes it clear that this "whatever" covers some unpleasant shit. Like overseeing the crucifixions of lawbreakers -- talk about punishment, huh? But that's not the sort of thing he brings up plainly, unless he's real drunk.]

Mostly I helped run the day to day in Vegas. We were starting over, after the superflu, building a new society. He was the big guy in charge of it. Calling people over from all over the country.

It didn't end well, the whole thing. All of Vegas got wiped out with a nuke.

[He doesn't say it was nuked, because that's not exactly how it went down.]

It will never cease to amaze me how easily an entire species can be taken down by a little germ. Wonderfully surprising, isn't it?

[He knew there were things Lloyd wasn't telling him, but for now, he let it pass. He didn't need to know the minutia of the man's life, after all. Just the measure of his mettle. If he was going to be coming around his home while he had what he considered precious cargo here... it was good to know what to expect.]

So no real surprise you ended up down here then? Is it what you thought it would be? This... afterlife?

[Wonderfully surprising isn't really what Lloyd would call it, but he's come around to the idea that everything falling apart sooner or later is almost an inevitable outcome of people's amazing capacity to fuck up. Maybe the wonderfully surprising thing is that not all worlds have ended that badly screwed.

He shakes his head at Lucifer's question. It wasn't a surprise, no. He knew he was damned for a while, even if he didn't know exactly what it meant.]

No, it ain't. It's a whole lot nicer than what I was expecting.

[The heat and the lack of decent showers and all the violent and disgusting shit aside... it's not that bad here. Then again, after working for Flagg, just having a relative freedom is a kind of relief.]

I guess I was picturing something more like what your hell was like. Where you're just tortured all the time. Or maybe nothing at all.

[Lloyd has a pretty clear picture in his head of what his personal hell would look like, because he's already lived it.]

I suppose for some, nothing at all would be a kind of hell in itself.

[He took another small sip, watching the man and trying to get his measure. He'd seen his like before; those littler men that were in the shadow of larger evils. The ones that knew what they did was wrong, but did it anyway because of fear. Whether it was fear of retribution or of being on the losing side, it never really mattered. It was all the same in the end.]

Either way, I suppose I'm grateful that you wound up in this one. There seem to be so very many to choose from

[There was more than fear involved in Lloyd's decision to follow Flagg, but fear's always been a prominent part of his life, like a shadow he could never shake.]

I think I'll stick to this one. Sure, I spend half the time covered in sweat or slime, and the place's full of assholes, but 'least I kinda... get to do my own thing, you know?

[He's not used to it, doing his own thing. He's been following orders for so long that he's forgotten how, if he ever knew. But he kinda likes it. Needs it, maybe.]

Mm, I do know. It's why I'm not entirely keen on fighting to be head of this pile. I left mine for a reason. While this isn't mine, by any means, it's interesting to see it from the other side. Interesting still to see how one can play within it.

Being the head of the pile is kinda exhausting, isn't it?

[Lloyd's mostly speculating, since he's never been the head of any pile. He's been close to it in Vegas, but never near ambitious enough to want to grab the top spot.]

It's a lot of responsibly. Not much time to relax.

[At least that much, he can say from experience. Of course, he doesn't know if it was anything like that for Lucifer. The guy is the devil, and it's hard to imagine stress being much of an issue for him.]

You've no idea.

[There was an edge of exasperation there, and Lucifer smiled at Lloyd, sipping at his drink before he leaned forward to set it on the table. A hand slid into his inner suit pocket and he pulled out a silver case.]

Smoke? Tobacco on the left, rather decent pot on the right.

[He opened the case and pulled out a cigarette for himself.]

There's no relaxing in real Hell, dear boy. No rest for the wicked is a saying for a reason.

[No, Lloyd has no idea, and he's not sure he wants to have an idea. He's not sure wants to know more about this real Hell, except it does bring up some dread fascination in him.

He takes a regular cigarette from the case, and avoids the weed. He's got a couple of reasons for avoiding drugs: one is that drug users were nailed to crosses in his Las Vegas, and it's conditioned a kind of aversion in him, even though he knows there's no such risk here. Plus, the last time he was stoned, things didn't go so well. He'd rather avoid anything that reminds him of the tri-state killspree.]

Thanks.

[No rest for a wicked is a saying that hasn't rung true to him in a while. Up on earth and even here in Hell Lite, he figures it's the really mean motherfuckers who get the best rest.]

Sounds like a pretty crappy job, tell you the truth. I guess like being a prison warden, only a lot more fucked up.

[Maybe Lucifer sees it differently, but Lloyd can't really think of running an eternal torture enterprise any other way.]

Were you supposed to be doing it forever?

That seemed to be the plan.

[He lit his cigarette, sliding the lighter across the table towards Lloyd as he leaned back and tucked the case away. More things to note; whether he actually did anything with them was anyone's guess. He drew in a drag, then let it out in a long plume of white before he chased the remnants of it with scotch.]

When Dear Old Dad says eternity, He means it quite literally. Wasn't quite supposed to be "Eternity, or until I got bleeding bored of it", but... what can He do, mm? If He's gonna leave a loophole open, I'll bloody well exploit it.

Sounds pretty fair to me.

[Is he just inclined to agree with whatever Lucifer says? Sure he is. But he also thinks being sentenced to anything for eternity is kinda nuts, whether you're the devil or not. Who'd blame the guy for taking an early retirement plan?

Except God, he supposes. He lights his cigarette and takes a shallow drag, keeping his eyes on Lucifer.]

You get in trouble for playing hooky?

I am dead. I suppose He could have stopped it, if He'd wanted to. Or made sure I wound up in my own Hell. Instead I'm here, as is someone who shouldn't be. I'd consider that punishment enough.

[The more conciliatory Lloyd is, the more Lucifer likes him. Though, maybe alcohol and drugs help with that. He leans forward to tap off the ash into the ashtray on the table, gesturing with an idle wave towards Lloyd.]

So, my lovely liquor dispensary agent, are you quite comfortable making yourself the dealer of illicitly delicious substances down here? No high-reaching plans for you?

[That sounds more like abandonment than punishment, which isn't any better, in Lloyd's experience. It's got the extra sting of letting you know how little you matter. Not that he's gonna presume that's how Lucifer is feeling about the whole thing. He doesn't really know if the devil feels things in the same way that normal people do.

He takes a sip of whiskey, smiles a little at the way Lucifer addresses him.]

It's not really my primary thing, the dealing. Just an extra way to get quick cash. I got a business I'm starting up. A talent agency that also does bodyguard gigs.

[Doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, but hey, that's what it is. It's probably pretty obvious that Lloyd's new to this business owner thing.]

I dunno if that's what you'd call high-reaching.

[In a way, it's more ambitious than Lloyd's been his entire life, but it's ambitious in the personal sense. He's not going for the sky here.]

[Lucifer did like to think himself above most of the base emotions of petty little humans, but the truth of the matter was, he just hadn't had the time or placement to experience any of it. Heaven and Hell -- his Heaven and Hell, weren't exactly places to dwell on how humane one might be. Lloyd was attentive and observant, and that was likely a good thing. He might well figure out what he could and couldn't get away with saying.]

Mm, is that so? Using on half to protect the other?

[The man (and if he had partners) could likely come up with a better name for it, but for now, if it was just starting, the gist would do.]

I'd say doing more than what you're put here to do is reaching high enough. Any attempt to reach in general is seemingly more than most find themselves doing here. Good for you.

[The compliment gets a pleased, slightly sheepish smile from Lloyd.]

Thanks. I guess I just like to keep busy. After Vegas, it feels strange if I'm not spinning fifty plates at once.

The bodyguards are more like a rental service, for whoever needs 'em. 'Cause hell isn't the safest sorta place, you know? And tough guys for hire is a kind of talent, too. So it all goes under the same umbrella.

Here's my business card, if you ever need a bodyguard. Or showbiz representation.

[He's pulled the card out of his shirt pocket and he leans forward so he can offer it to Lucifer.]

I guess you probably wouldn't need a bodyguard.

[It occurs to him after a second that it was a pretty dumb offer to make. The truth is, he just kinda likes showing off his business card, even though Kenzi says it's got no taste.]

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