hellicious | Little Hades IC Inbox

[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.]

[He took the card, looking at it with a quick flash of a smile.]

Hah! See? I was right. Pink Lloyd.

[Wasn't he brilliant? He was brilliant. But as he took another drag from his cigarette, he tucked the card away in an inside pocket.]

Not really, no, but then again, that's likely because I came with my own. You really must meet Maze sometime. I keep trying to set her up with all these fun things to do; torture, beatings, and she keeps slithering off to do her own thing. Demons. What can you do with them, mm?

[Lloyd doesn't roll his eyes, but he does pull a slight face at Pink Lloyd. He was kinda hoping that little nickname would go away, even though he does, in fact, know the fucking band.]

Couldn't tell ya, man. I guess I am one, now. A demon.

[He points up at the goofy little horn he's been growing. He doesn't feel like a demon. He feels like a fucking idiot.]

Are you guys like...

[He gestures vaguely, not actually sure what he's asking. At least now he's pretty sure that Maze isn't an unruly cat, but the way Lucifer talks about her, it still kinda sounds like she's a really violent pet.]

[Don't roll your eyes, Lloyd. Pink Floyd was a pretty badass band, and if the Devil liked it, maybe it was due a little respect.]

Oh, are those real? I thought it was one of those little headbands, like with cat ears and whatnot. May I?

[He reached forward, as if to touch them, pausing when he asks about Maze.]

Doing the do? Oh, I suppose, off and on. She's been my right hand for the better part of ten billion years, and she's certainly not hard to look at. Mazikeen was Hell's best torturer-- well, my Hell. Born as she was, a Lilum, child of Lilith, the original demon and mother to all. She has excellent taste in clothes and a preference for leather, though one can hardly blame her as she's got the body to pull it off. But as of late, no, we have not been. She's been snippy over my houseguest.

[Pink Floyd may have been a pretty badass band, but Pink Lloyd just does not have a badass ring to it at all. Unless you're a high ranking mobster who just happens to wear pink suits, you can't have a nickname like that without losing some precious masculinity points.

And Lloyd's already losing some, what with this single baby horn situation he's got going.]

Uh. Yeah, sure.

[It's kinda awkward, letting a guy touch your horn, especially when that horn is a little sensitive, and that guy is the fucking devil. But okay. Lloyd licks his lower lip and leans his head slightly forward, so Lucifer can reach.]

It's just the one horn, for now. I guess the other one is a late bloomer.

[Or so he's telling himself. In fact, there's been no sign of a second horn, period.]

She sounds like a real special lady. [He's being a little dry but not in a sarcastic way. He's sure the chick is special in plenty of ways, but maybe it's the kind of special Lloyd would rather avoid, even if she looks real awesome in leather. This whole torture business kinda freaks him out. Then again, he is having drinks with the former boss of hell.] Who's your houseguest?

[Lucifer would be the first to tell him that one doesn't gain or lose masculinity points for clothes they wear or whom they fuck. Own what you are, Lloyd. Masculinity's overrated, anyway.

Setting his cigarette in the ashtray, he also puts his glass down, leaning on the table a bit to hold himself there as he first looks at the horn, then starts to touch it. It's exploring, that touch, starting at the tip and working down and around it to the base, seeing what the texture is like and how it's attached to the man's head. Fascinating, really.]

Mm, makes you a bit of a unicorn, doesn't it? Demonic narwhal.

[He's still mostly paying attention to the horn, because really, Lloyd. He likes new things. But he answers a little distractedly.]

Mm, an angel. Well, not a real one, mind you. Not as I or my siblings are, anyway. But this reality's version of one, and she happens to be from my world. What with Little Eden being toxic ground at the moment, she needed somewhere safe where she wouldn't be harried by this demon/angel nonsense.

[The horn exploring feels nice but strange, and it has Lloyd squinting a bit and keeping his tongue pressed between his teeth to avoid making any awkward sounds whenever Lucifer touches an especially sensitive spot.

He manages to get out a faintly amused snort at this unicorn shit. Sure, that's him all right. A goddamn unicorn.]

Not, uh-- [His memory isn't the greatest, and it's kinda tough to concentrate with the horn probing going on, but finally, he's got it:] Chloe Decker? She mentioned working with a Lucifer. Homicide cases.

[He was already drawing his hand back, making to sit back where he'd started, reaching for his drink as he did when he paused as Lloyd said a name.]

Ooh, look at you, getting around and picking up all sorts of information. You might be more useful than just for party favors. Yes, Unicorn, that would be the angel currently residing under my roof.

[There was an implied 'under my protection' in there as well. Could Lloyd hear it?]

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