Splitting at the Seams (RadioApple)

Part 4

The final cherry on the cake of the last 48 hours’ strangeness was the way in which the king of Hell was awoken.

Not crying out and sweating from nightmares, not groggy and unbalanced from insomnia, not with busted nerves and ringing ears from his phone going off or an explosion outside at the onset of yet another grand turf war… but by a simple and polite knock, like the initial one he'd granted Alastor.

The devil was buoyed for a moment in soft half-REM, a strangely bright blot in his environment as he took his time straightening up from where he had been resting head-down on his elbows, the starched crisp white of his rolled-up sleeves an almost symbolically aseptic contrast atop the bloodstained sheets he'd not had the time, energy nor inclination to bother cleaning.

The room still rank of death, the scent festering and stagnating with the closed off walls. Lucifer had lazily slung the door back into place before passing out - not actually on it's hinges and thus nonfunctional but at the very least preventative to any strangers just waltzing in silently - and had forgotten to crack a window open. Subsequently it felt like a goddamn crematorium, musty and cold and stinking of iron.

This was where he'd gotten his best sleep in years? Not in the luxuriant silk and lace sheets of his four poster bed surrounded by perfect acoustics and with everything he needed within arms reach, but in an uncomfortable chair hunched over the most annoying guy in Hell as he bled out?

…was it seriously just having the presence of someone else there that put his mind at ease? For something's sake...

Turning his attention to the door again so he didn't have to crack open that industrial sized barrel of worms, he cricked his neck (ow) popped his fingers (double ow) stood up (triple ow) and made his way over, hearing another tentative knock right as he reached it. They hadn't even called out yet, how polite. Perhaps this was the bellhop of the residence, since Alastor himself had taken such offense to that particular accusation? Which he'd have to keep that in mind to most effectively piss the deer off in future.

"Um-”

Oh, the stranger behind the door had finally spoken. Why did Lucifer have to keep staring into space thinking about Alastor?

…and why the Hell did he have to phrase it like that?!

“Uh- Al? You like, good? You're usually up wayyy before us, so seeing you sleep in ‘til normal time is actually kinda worrying?”

It was a high pitched and weirdly accented voice, one Lucifer knew he definitely recognized but couldn't yet put a name or face to, tired as he was. It was far too familiar to be coming from The Help, at any rate. A friend of Alastor's? Did the guy even have any of those - legitimate ones, ones he didn't force to be around him as he seemed to do with Husker? Did he never get depressed, knowing most of those who stuck by him did so from obligation or being forced?

….He had gotten distracted thinking about Alastor again.

Clearing his throat, the king plastered a wide grin on his face. He knew it couldn't be seen, but Lucifer had always been a strong believer in the power of a smile, and that the effect of conveying one could still be felt even in solely speech. “Sorry to disappoint, but it's me you're dealing with instead! Our doe-eyed buddy is all good though, just, y'know, getting in a few Zs. Having some R&R!” Lucifer dearly hoped his tone conveyed confidence and control and not the awkwardness he knew it had to. Not talking to people regularly in a near-decade did these things to you, okay?

The man on the other side spoke up again as he moved closer to the door. Lucifer almost warned him about the incredibly unstable nature of the door, and that any pressure whatsoever would probably send it careening back to the floor. Almost. It would be pretty funny. “Wait, who the heck is this?” The other man snapped, not actually touching said door yet but raising his voice to be heard best. “Who would be in Al's room this early, the eff? An’ speaking of that, what's ‘are in are’? Some kinda BDSM-acronym kinky sex stuff? Because if so you betta count me IN!”