Pardon The Way That I Stare

Advice

As the evening began to wind down, the last of the cruise energy still buzzed through the hotel, but the group was settling back into their routines. Alastor, ever the enthusiastic chef, offered to cook up another batch of jambalaya, a dish that had quickly become a favorite among the hotel's residents. The spicy aroma soon filled the kitchen, promising another delicious meal.

While Alastor busied himself with the cooking, Lucifer found himself wandering over to the bar, where Husk was stationed, wiping down glasses with his usual air of disinterest. Lucifer leaned against the counter and cleared his throat.

"Husk, mind pouring me a drink?" Lucifer asked casually, giving him a small nod.

Husk glanced up, already pulling out a glass. "What'll it be?"

"Whiskey," Lucifer replied. "Something strong."

Husk slid the glass over to Lucifer without much ceremony, eyeing him as he took a sip. "You don't usually hang out here without a reason. What's on your mind, Lucifer?"

Lucifer let out a small sigh, looking over his shoulder toward the kitchen where Alastor was humming quietly while stirring the pot. His gaze lingered for a moment before turning back to Husk. "I need some advice," he admitted, his voice low.

Husk raised an eyebrow. "About?"

"Alastor," Lucifer said, leaning in slightly. "What does he... like? You've known him longer than I have. I don't just mean the superficial stuff, either. I want to know what he *really* likes. What makes him happy?"

Husk stared at Lucifer for a moment, then gave a dry chuckle, as if he was amused that Lucifer, of all people, was asking such a question. He poured himself a drink before answering. "Alastor's a tough one to read. He's got layers, but he doesn't let many people see past the smile. What does he like? Well, beyond cooking and jazz? He enjoys things that remind him of his past... the radio, old songs, traditional food. But more than anything, he likes control."

Lucifer frowned. "Control?"

"Yeah," Husk nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "It's not just about power or bossing people around. It's about feeling like he's in charge of his life. Alastor's careful about everything—his image, his actions, even his feelings. You give him too much unpredictability, and he'll retreat. But if you let him keep a little control... he'll let his guard down around you."

Lucifer swirled the whiskey in his glass, thinking that over. It made sense—Alastor always seemed so composed, as if nothing ever rattled him. But Lucifer had noticed those fleeting moments of vulnerability when Alastor's walls briefly lowered. He was starting to see that there was more to Alastor than the facade of constant confidence.

"He likes a challenge, too," Husk added, shrugging. "Something or someone that makes him think, keeps him on his toes. You might've noticed, but you already do that for him."

Lucifer smirked a little, feeling a surge of warmth at the idea. "You think so?"

Husk sighed. "I don't think— I know. But don't push too hard, Lucifer. He'll tell you what he likes when he's ready. You just have to... I don't know, let him come to you."

Lucifer nodded, feeling a strange sense of clarity. He took another sip of his whiskey, feeling the burn as it slid down his throat. "Thanks, Husk. I owe you."

"You owe me a hell of a lot more than just that, but yeah, sure," Husk muttered with a smirk, taking another sip of his drink.

Lucifer gave a chuckle before glancing toward the kitchen again. The warmth of Alastor's humming filled the air, and Lucifer couldn't help but smile. He was starting to see Alastor in a new light, and maybe—just maybe—he'd figure out how to make him feel as special as Alastor had been making him feel.