The Pure and the Tainted

Chapter Four

Begrudgingly, Lucifer did acknowledge she made a somewhat fair point. Though he was full of disdain for humanity as a whole, including this human as well, this one happened to be queen of Hell. That made her, unfortunately, as close to an equal as she could be. And while he was many things, he was not a hypocrite. "Very well. But if my generals do not take you seriously, I would advise you not to vent to me about it. I won't be able to help," he said, gesturing for her to follow him. If she wanted to cook he would show her the way to the kitchen, which had been fully stocked prior to her arrival. Much like the bedroom, it was full of anything she could want or need.

"I'll take my chances with it," Arianna mused. If she needed to give a display of her power to show that she was not to be taken lightly, well, then she probably would, even if it spilled her secret to Lucifer.

He just rolled his eyes and sighed. Hell was going to chew her up and spit her out, he was sure of it. She would not last long here if she didn't listen to him. While he didn't think any general would speak out against her in his presence, he wasn't sure what they would resort to when he wasn't around if they felt disrespected by her language.

A few minutes of silence later, they were in the kitchen. He showed her where everything was, pointing out primarily the pots and pans and other dishes. "Have at it."

"Well what do you want to eat?" she asked, leaning up against the granite countertop. He'd probably implied that he was leaving her to her own devices to do what she wanted, but just in case she was wrong, she didn't want to assume and cook something he hated.

Lucifer frowned. He was going to just walk off and leave her alone, and go back to paperwork. He hadn't expected her to ask him what he wanted, in a way inviting him to stay for lunch. He supposed a small break couldn't hurt. "I typically don't. I have no need for it, and I rarely have the time. I do have a fondness for italian though."

"Okay, so italian it is," she smiled, pulling a pot out to boil water, she wasn't quite sure yet what she was going to cook but it would probably be pasta. "You may have to help me with this. I'm a terrible cook and tend to burn a lot of what I try to make, ironically enough."

"Why ironic?" he asked, furrowing his brows in confusion. He didn't understand why that would be ironic.

Arianna panicked, slightly, her face paling in nervousness. In truth, she had referred to her abilities being the cause of the irony, but she couldn't very well say that. "Well because I'm in Hell now, and Hell is all fiery and... stuff," she mumbled. It was a lie, but maybe she would believe her.

She was hiding something, he could tell. Lucifer knew that his wife was not telling the truth, the question was why. The other question was whether or not he should confront her on it. He decided that he would acknowledge her fib, but not argue about it. "I'm the father of lies, darling. I know you aren't being honest when you say that. However, I will not press for an answer you clearly are not comfortable with giving."

She sighed, starting to boil the water on the stove. It would probably take about ten minutes, which was the perfect amount of time for a highly upsetting conversation she wasn't even sure she was going to have. He did say he wouldn't press, but, perhaps he deserved to know. Though she had desperately wanted to keep it a secret, in case of consequences she wasn't sure of, he probably would've found out eventually and been even more pissed off she hid it.

"Look, Lucifer, it's a long story. If you want to know, I'll tell you. But I don't really want this getting out to anybody who doesn't explicitly need to know about it."

Now he was just even more confused. What could Arianna possibly be about to tell him? Was it going to be what he thought it was? Now was not the time for snide remarks, so he just nodded and waited patiently. She trusted him, however terrible an idea that may have been. If he wanted her on his side, and out of trouble, he would not break that trust. "Very well. You have my word."