fandomtownies | Devil's Nest, Saturday evening

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Devil's Nest, Saturday evening

When you were going to throw a party in a bar named the "Devil's Nest", you were just going to lean way into the red.

Red bows, red ribbons, red berries on pine boughs, red plates and glasses, a red sweater on Tiny that read "Jingle My Bells" with no bells visible, but a definite musical sound when he moved.

"That's awful," Eric told him, looking straight as his pants. "I've never been so proud." Eric was, for now, in a regular sweater and black leather pants, but he was very much looking forward to seeing what Ino brought him to wear. He had picked out an amazingly terrible holiday sweater for her.

Eric took a cautious sip of the extremely boozy red punch and shrugged. "Here goes nothing," he said, propping the door slightly open. "If Lucy starts playing 'Christmas Shoes' on the piano you have my explicit orders to throw him through the door.

Tiny would not be doing that.

Come on in, adults! Get drunk and make poor choices. It's the holidays.

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Lucifer walked in half an hour late. Was he wearing a Christmas sweater? Of course. Was it pulled on over an extremely expensive white button-up? Naturally!

"So who's getting into the spirit of the holidays?" he called, grin massive.

"That is a very, very...you...sweater," Eric said.

"Thank you, I picked it especially for that purpose," Lucifer said, beaming shamelessly. "You look characteristically dour as usual."

"Ino was supposed to bring me a sweater, but I think she has been detained," Eric said. "I have one in the back."

Because Eric could not let Lucifer win the sweater competition. "If you'll excuse me a minute?"

Oh, Eric.

"Of course," Lucifer said cheerfully. "I look forward to your ugly Christmas sweater. Tiny?"

A glass of scotch appeared in his hand.

Eric shot Tiny a betrayed look. All of their years together and Tiny had a new favorite. The nerve.

Eric returned a few minutes later in the same leather pants and a new sweater.

That lit up.

"I like the detailing on the gut," Lucifer said, gesturing at the sweater with one finger. "But I feel like someone missed an opportunity with the placement of that bottle."

"I thought so, too," Eric said, glancing down. "Get rid of the box entirely, right?"

"Move the bottle a few inches," Lucifer said, gesturing at it critically. "Sad lack of imagination, if you ask me."

Octavia sort of squinted at the sweater from afar, faintly quizzical.

Sorry, the Devil hadn't survived the apocalypse where she was from.

"Yes, I am very handsome," Lucifer said, "But do refrain from staring too much."

"Just reading the shirt," Octavia drawled, her eyes flicking up to his face. "Don't get your hopes up."

"Your loss," Lucifer drawled. "Have you finished reading, or should I pose more blatantly with it?"

"I'm done."

As evidenced by how her gaze didn't return back down to it.

"It would've already started making sense if it was going to."

Lucifer sighed. Crossed his arms. Pouted. "So much is lost on this island, I swear. It's a tragedy."

Octavia snorted. Which was actually pretty expressive of her, around a stranger, but. The glass of punch in her hand probably had a lot to do with that.

"I'm not from around here," she rasped. "A lot of things are lost on me." Two years and counting, and she still found herself saying 'I don't know what that is' far too often. "Sure someone else will appreciate... whatever that is."

"I'm the Devil," Lucifer clarified. "The 'get thee behind me, Satan' Devil. Ring any bells?"

Oh, come on, give him that one.

Yeah, not so much.

The sort-of squint was back. Then, after a moment of that, she hazarded, "That's like a religion thing, right?"

"I suppose," Lucifer sighed loudly. "Though I'd prefer it if people didn't make my life all about Him."

Octavia shrugged and sipped her drink.

-- okay, no, that was a gulp, not a sip. "Not trying to make your life all about anything." A beat. "Not religious, either."

"Atheists do have the most fun," Lucifer sighed, "Though Father has historically been terrible about letting them enjoy it."

You could tell when Kitty spotted him due to the massive facepalm.

"Good evening," Lucifer called, grinning. "You look pained."

"Nope, all good," she called back, with a sigh. "How are you?"

Good enough to wear that sweater, apparently.

"Lovely, as always," said Lucifer, who had been riding an extreme, repressive kind of denial every month since he'd arrived here and was keen on continuing to cheerfully repress every negative feeling in his body, thank you. "I see you've decided to visit the competition."

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Devil's Nest, Saturday evening

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