You Should Have Taken The Offer

You should have taken the offer.

You know, I dunno why I care. That dear brick-headed drama queen brother o' mine is always threatening some catastrophe to befall me...but why oh why does this time feel so...real? Between Delilah's death and my discovery of a female persuasion I seemingly can't have, I thought I could bury myself in those possibilities and forget it.

Unfortunately (or fortunately? Perspectives always dizzied me...), it's an impasse.

Then I tried drinking it off. I figured that between bangin' sessions with the good doctor and...learning decidedly more about the delightfully enigmatic Detective Decker ( rather pleased with how that is going...), not to mention dealing with the fact I am singlehandedly trashing the cosmic and spiritual balance of the entire universe by shoving a nasty finger of fuck off up dear old Dad ass... I've a handle on my continuing fate.

Yet I still hear Amenadiel's threat: You should have taken the offer.

I don't know what this is. I can't sex it off, I can't blow it off, I can't drink it off: I have changed. Am changing? It's fluid. Hard to explain, try to embrace it. And that's merely got Amenadiel spouting his gloom and doom most likely...

The stupid cosmic balance again. I'll tell you, I'm really starting to get sick and tired of hearing about that ball and chain! Between Maze...and Brother mine, even the Detective, although she doesn't realize it (any of it. You know how upfront I've been with her?!)...

I'm doing what I am meant to do, whether down there or in LA. All the same to me. But, then...I see these animals I would usually have an orgy-tastic bloodbath with down there, running rampant... annnd I kinda wanna make the apocalypse right now.

...Oh wait. Yeah. I probably am. Eh.

You can imagine the toil this is having on me. My routine of debauchery and devilment is waaay off course. I exaggerate, but the effect is the same... I even experienced the effects of failed night's sleep. And that's after the wildness of several ravenously experienced riders... Apparently my trying to explain what a Pyramid was to the Detective stuck with me, cuz, well...heh. There we all were...!

I finally succumbed to my yearning need for something straight and cold about 6 this morning, and eased from the sweaty pile of flesh sprawled about me. Maze's in there somewhere...

Strange, but, I almost felt repulsed by them. I knew right then what kind of day it was going to be. I snatched my silk robe, the black one, and tromped sourly down to Lux's club floor, beelining for the bar. No doubt trailing fire and brimstone: my mood has taken flight down to the depths of old home week to be sure. I mix unblemished and heartily shaken vodka martinis, garnished with my bitterest of lemon twist: I was in heaven...once...it's that good, because I am masochistic son of a bitch.

While I sip, instead of relaxing, my nerves are bunching tighter. My fingers drum out a rapid rhythm. And I really, really want to torture something... but I'm not an unreasonable sort! This jolt of bloodlust is not exactly what I get into this early in the day, I usually have to warm up...! But then...

...but then...

The bloody trumpets of Jericho.

Like, seriously. Trumpets. Loud and obnoxiously in tune.

Not I sound I cherish...nor one I have heard in a very long time, give or take a few millennia. Which I was fine with.

On the final blast, the infamous light fills in the entirely of the club. You know, the voices raised on high hallelujah bullshit. Even more so than with one of Amenadiel's arrivals, time stands still, tugging hard at me.