[Lucifer's head cocks to the side and there's a moment where he debates between getting annoyed at her or laughing at her. Instead, he comes up with a better idea and simply shrugs at her.
And then promptly licks his finger -with a forked tongue, because they do have an audience, and he's always been a performer- and then shoves it in Michael's defiant ear.
Yep. Satan is giving the archangel Michael a wet willy. Thanks for the idea, Sarah.]
[ Lucifer is indeed a performer. Michael is extensively familiar with his antics and his fickle sense of humor, so he's neither surprised nor amused when Lucifer decides to play on Sarah's comment. There's a very sharp contrast between the playful facade he's putting on here and the game he was playing earlier, and just looking at this, it would be easy to be taken in by the act.
Michael doesn't even twitch. If Lucifer was hoping to get any kind of reaction out of him, he's going to be severely disappointed. ]
[ In different circumstances, Michael's lack of a reaction would be enough to make her laugh. But it would have to be in very different circumstances.
Sarah is at a loss. It's easy to match this Lucifer to the one who made it snow and who created flowers in her mind's forest. But she also remembers the blood. The way it slid down the side of Michael's face. Those deep gashes.
Lucifer is like a child who pulls the wings off of butterflies, and that makes him more frightening, not less.
Deep breath. There's something that still needs doing. ]
[Asshole. Lucifer knows without a doubt that Michael would have reacted if they didn't currently have an audience. He hears Sarah's plea, but ignores it for a moment as he pulls cold grace into his fingers and freezes the inside of Michael's ear. It's a little jab just between them.]
Is that better? You have to have someone ask for you? [There's a casual tease to his words that otherwise aren't, and with a snap of his fingers, the restraints are gone. The collar he leaves for a moment, because he knows the second the phone is off, Michael will retaliate violently and he's not inclined to be at a disadvantage when he does.]
Better thank her.
[And then he tosses the phone at Michael's chest. Enjoy that close up, Sarah.]
[ Michael was anticipating some sort of retaliation in response to ignoring Lucifer's prodding, but that stab of cold inside his ear is a sharp, unexpected pain. It's almost intense enough to make him wince despite his determination not to show any sort of reaction, especially not a pained one.
He does manage to catch the phone before it tumbles back down to the bed, which would possibly show off a lot more in the way of bare skin. Even so, there's an unobstructed view of his chest now, unblemished aside from an intricate looking mark that more or less squarely in the center of his chest that looks as if it was carved there, which lies directly on top of a much larger, jagged scar that's so faded that one would have to squint to make out the edges.
That flare of anger seems to have subsided somewhat for the moment even though he is still deeply annoyed with Lucifer, and it's easy to see that in his eyes. But he knows that it could have been far worse, all things considered.
She's going to have questions about his death now, though, and he's sure that she won't forget about that. Or any of this. ]
Please tell me that you're not going to call the police as soon as I put the phone down.
[ His death won't be the only thing she has questions about. That mark looks like a magical symbol, one she doesn't recognize. And she hasn't forgotten how he wasn't able to get out of those ties, either.
She has a lot to ask him about. ]
I won't if you call and tell me you're all right, when you are.
[ More than two hours of silence and she'll go to the LHPD in person. ]
[ Someone would possibly find this comical, between Lucifer glaring at him from the corner and Sarah giving him a look that promises every bit of defiance that she can muster in order to protect him, despite his repeated insistence that he doesn't need it. Michael isn't generally amused.
He rolls his shoulders, which are sore from being stretched for as long as they were, and sighs. He meant what he said when he told her that getting involved would just be inviting trouble. It would just be an entirely futile effort. Few people know that Lucifer has a house, and even fewer know where it is. It would take the police ages to find it, and even when they did, it wouldn't do them any good.
But arguing is a waste of effort. ]
Fine.
[ He pauses as if he wants to say something else, there might even be something apologetic briefly in his eyes, but he decides against it and ends the call instead. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bechdelpls) wrote2020-12-01 12:50 am
no subject
And then promptly licks his finger -with a forked tongue, because they do have an audience, and he's always been a performer- and then shoves it in Michael's defiant ear.
Yep. Satan is giving the archangel Michael a wet willy. Thanks for the idea, Sarah.]
no subject
Michael doesn't even twitch. If Lucifer was hoping to get any kind of reaction out of him, he's going to be severely disappointed. ]
no subject
Sarah is at a loss. It's easy to match this Lucifer to the one who made it snow and who created flowers in her mind's forest. But she also remembers the blood. The way it slid down the side of Michael's face. Those deep gashes.
Lucifer is like a child who pulls the wings off of butterflies, and that makes him more frightening, not less.
Deep breath. There's something that still needs doing. ]
Please let him go.
no subject
Is that better? You have to have someone ask for you? [There's a casual tease to his words that otherwise aren't, and with a snap of his fingers, the restraints are gone. The collar he leaves for a moment, because he knows the second the phone is off, Michael will retaliate violently and he's not inclined to be at a disadvantage when he does.]
Better thank her.
[And then he tosses the phone at Michael's chest. Enjoy that close up, Sarah.]
no subject
He does manage to catch the phone before it tumbles back down to the bed, which would possibly show off a lot more in the way of bare skin. Even so, there's an unobstructed view of his chest now, unblemished aside from an intricate looking mark that more or less squarely in the center of his chest that looks as if it was carved there, which lies directly on top of a much larger, jagged scar that's so faded that one would have to squint to make out the edges.
That flare of anger seems to have subsided somewhat for the moment even though he is still deeply annoyed with Lucifer, and it's easy to see that in his eyes. But he knows that it could have been far worse, all things considered.
She's going to have questions about his death now, though, and he's sure that she won't forget about that. Or any of this. ]
Please tell me that you're not going to call the police as soon as I put the phone down.
no subject
She has a lot to ask him about. ]
I won't if you call and tell me you're all right, when you are.
[ More than two hours of silence and she'll go to the LHPD in person. ]
no subject
He rolls his shoulders, which are sore from being stretched for as long as they were, and sighs. He meant what he said when he told her that getting involved would just be inviting trouble. It would just be an entirely futile effort. Few people know that Lucifer has a house, and even fewer know where it is. It would take the police ages to find it, and even when they did, it wouldn't do them any good.
But arguing is a waste of effort. ]
Fine.
[ He pauses as if he wants to say something else, there might even be something apologetic briefly in his eyes, but he decides against it and ends the call instead. ]