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The orange glow from the fireplace casted long shadows against the hardwood flooring.
Red wallpaper had turned a vermillion tone in the firelight, little designs of keys and apples painting the wall was no longer visible in the dim lighting of the front room.
Lucifer walked down the staircase incredibly slowly. He could have, theoretically, simply teleported down here, but he didn't want to scare anyone that may be up this late. Also he wanted to slide down the stairs like a maniac.
He may or may not have forgotten to get his melatonin from his workshop- on most nights he didn't take them, preferring to stay up until he couldn't even move his limbs, then take his medication, however now that he lives full-time at the Hotel, he can't quite as well have such a sleep schedule. Especially after last time.
Lucifer shuddered at the thought, grimacing as he remembered the Duck Incident. Even though it was well over a month ago, it still haunts him.
The light from the fireplace flickered, accompanied with the flooring creaking, and he remembered what he was doing--if you could even say he was doing anything in particular-- and continued walking, rounding the corner.
He went to go climb up onto one of the couch chairs, before noticing a lanky figure sitting on six feet away on the other chair closer to the fireplace.
Lucifer stopped in his tracks, and stared wide-eyed at the figure, looking up like some kind of spooked cat, half-sitting on the chair.
As he was trying to decipher who/what this creature is, he heard a small static buzzing sound before he heard the figure speak up.
"It's considered impolite to stare at another. But I suppose you would not know that, hmm?" Oh. Oh, it's this guy. Joy.
Lucifer made a small grunt, immediately frowning even at the sound of his voice as his eyes finally adjusted to the light. There was Alastor, smiling and all, sitting down on a couch chair, reading a book. Best of all, he wasn't even looking at him and somehow he still knew Lucifer was there . . Even though Lucifer himself wasn't paying enough attention to know whenever or not he had looked up within the time he was climbing onto the couch chair- but that didn't matter.
Lucifer finally noticed that he was still halfway on the chair, and fully sat down, pulling his legs up and glaring at the wall across from them.
Silence passed for acouple minutes, only occasionally being broken up via Alastor flipping a page in his book. Lucifer sat there, very clearly irritated, but said nothing, simply sitting and glaring across the room.
After those couple minutes were up, however (Lucifer speculated only three or four minutes passed), Lucifer finally spoke up. "How do you mean, I 'would not know that'?" He said, irritation very clear in his voice.
They had been in this sort-of limbo state for the past months since the battle- one would pick on the other--usually Alastor would be the instigator-- then the other would make a snarky remark-- usually him--, and the cycle would continue. Lately, however, Lucifer has been getting more worse for wear, usually just ignoring Alastor. Usually, Alastor would leave him be, surprisingly. Of course, he tried to ignore him on purpose acouple times, just for Alastor to see directly through him, to Lucifer's dismay, and not give up on the 'picking'.
Lucifer liked to call this little game 'The Pickening'.
Why would Alastor stop picking on him if he was in no state to reply? Well, that my friends, is a slight mystery. Although, it may be because of the Duck Incident.
"Oh, nothing. It's simply put that people of your . . stature, usually do not know basic social rules," Alastor replied, continuing to read his book.
Lucifer took a second to process that statement, before letting out a hefty sigh. He honestly could not be bothered that much. "Well-played; both an insult on my height and my 'social' standing," he said, breaking the skit. He dropped his head onto his knees with a small thud. God was he tired.
Alastor put a hand to his heart (or Lucifer envisioned that he did), dramatically, and said "Well thank you, I do try my best." Alastor's voice was dripping with sarcasm behind all the static.
Lucifer heard a page begin to flip, before stopping abruptly, and being put back down. He had half the mind to raise his head and look over, but he decided against it.
Nothing but the quiet sound of static buzzing and the flames in the fireplace crackling filled the air for a minute. Lucifer almost decided that Alastor had likely disappeared into shadows, before he heard the sinner speak again.
"My, has all that sugar gotten to you?" Alastor probed, waiting for a reaction. When he got nothing but silence in return, he hummed, and shut his book.
Lucifer heard the sound of the radio being tuned, the sound of static increasing before dying down to a gentle hiss in the background. He heard Alastor open his book again, and flip a page.
Soon after this, he heard a subtle jazz come over the radio. He recognized the song to be I Wake Up Smiling by Paul Whiteman. How odd music was in the ninteen twenties. Lucifer remembers some of those old-fashioned radios dropping down in the pride ring. Of course, he was a bit more active, then. He did still stay in his workshop most of the time. Though that reminds him- he was much more into classical music than jazz . . .
Lucifer opened his eyes for a split second, adjusting his position. He'd almost completely forgotten that Alastor was there at this point. He was a bit more busy being lulled off into a deep sleep.
Before he knew it, he was asleep.
《~▪︎◇▪︎~》
Alastor flipped a page in his book, smile now closed-mouth. His ear twitched as he heard the sound of gentle snoring.
He looked over, one eyebrow raised. The short man in the other chair was fast asleep, body relaxed into the chair's cushions, legs curled up to his chest.
Alastor blinked, slightly surprised that the king had fallen asleep so fast. Or, well, asleep at-all.
He observed him for several seconds, before turning back to his book. He wiped his monocle off before placing it back over his eye.
Interesting. he thought.