𝐇𝐇 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄 - Hazbin Hotel

went too far

"Another round, your majesty?"

"No, I think something a little lighter will do for now," Lucifer sighed, draping his upper body across the bar. Husker (Husker, yes? Lucifer wasn't 100% sure of the cat demon's name, something he supposed he ought to correct if he was to well and truly have a hand in his daughters hotel), raised a brow but didn't comment, instead reaching down below the bar to crack open the mini fridge Lucifer had so graciously installed two days ago. He pulled out a jug of apple cider (of the non-alcoholic variety) and poured the King of Hell a glass.

Lucifer accepted it with a murmured thank you, swirling the contents as if it was fine wine instead of glorified apple juice. He had already pounded back three appletinis in less than an hour, and figured it was probably prudent that he not get drunk in the lobby of the Hazbin. Drinking alone also wasn't exactly a good look, and he would hate for Charlie and Vaggie to get back from their date to find him wasted and unaccompanied save for the grouchy bartender. His sweet daughter worried for him enough as it was.

With that thought in mind he drained his glass and accepted another from Husker (yes, he was pretty fairly half-way certain that was the demon's name). Lucifer wished that the bartender would make any kind of conversation with him, rather than glare down at the glass he was polishing in silent contempt. If only the spider were here, at least his constant tormentation got some sort of rise out of his fellow sinner. Lucifer had only managed to wheedle out a stunted five minute conversation about the weather (acidic and gloomy, as always), and how the new renovations were looking nice - though they were not so new now, nearly three months after the failed Extermination.

Just as he was contemplating calling it an early night and heading up to his room, the back of Lucifer's neck prickled with the tell-tale warning that his least favorite resident was incoming. Great, as if his night couldn't get any more depressing and obsolete.

Sure enough, half a second later the Radio Demon himself materialized next to the bar, slinking out of the shadows like some sort of smiling blood-dipped scarecrow. Seriously, had the guy never heard of taking the stairs?

"Ah, what have we here? Drinking alone, my good man? How... poignant. "

"And what are you up to? Roaming the halls like some lamenting widow?" Lucifer snapped.

"Ha, no. I'm simply checking in on the state of the hotel, of course! Something I see you are choosing to forgo, in favor of drinking up the alcohol your own lovely daughter paid good money for."

The demon's smile was sharp and leering, just daring Lucifer to engage. Part of him wanted to, his ire sparked already just by a few sharp words, but a larger part of him was exhausted by the whole ordeal. He and Alastor had been at each other's throats for near on three months, since the very first day they had met, and while it had been infuriating at first, it was now no more than an annoyance. One that Lucifer very much did not want to deal with right now.

Instead of indulging the sinner, he simply rolled his eyes and groused: "Whatever you say, Lady Macbeth. I'm going to bed."

With that he rose from the bar, brushing past Alastor and heading towards the stairs. If he happened to "accidentally" bump the Radio Demon on his way past, well, that was his business.

He had just made it to the top of the stairs when Alastor once again materialized before him.

"Going so soon?" the sinner sing-songed. "It's barely half past ten, your majesty! Hardly late, wouldn't you say? Charlie hasn't even returned yet with her dear inamorata!"

"The fuck do you want, Alastor?" Lucifer sighed. "I just want to go to bed, okay? If you really want to start this shit, can it wait until tomorrow?"

The demon's scarlet eyes narrowed, something imperceptible flashing there for only the briefest of moments before it was gone. His stance was belligerent, if not completely combative, his looming height made all the more apparent by the fact that Lucifer was still one step down from the landing of the stairs. The sinner looked like he wanted to fight, like he desired nothing more than the verbal sparring that the pair engaged in on a near-daily basis.