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The Devil's Nest, Friday Night

It had taken Lucifer this long, but he had finally had some time to sit down and watch the best-of Eurovision this year. He blamed Duke's boat and its lack of a convenient Netflix - or, well, Peacock - spot for the whole thing.

Either way, he'd come back from it with a renewed appreciation of the chanson. So he put some nice French wines on the menu, added a cheery FRANCE NIGHT above it in all caps, and sank down behind the piano to play.

"The only downside," he confided to Tiny at one point or another, "Is that I can't wave my hands around dramatically when I play it on piano."

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"Good to know at least someone is starting to recover from their time in Haven," Dwight mused as he finished his drink.

"It'd be nice if it would stop yanking him back at the least opportune time," Lucifer said. "Last time we were on our way to the Bahamas on the Rouge when we were suddenly out a captain. Likely my Father's terrible sense of humor."

"Ok that is... slightly unnerving...." Dwight muttered, seriously hoping he didn't come across any random portals back to Haven.

"Yes, so be careful where you step," Lucifer said, "Or don't. It seems to be utterly random."

"Lovely..." Dwight glanced down at the empty drink in his hands. "Might take another one after all. Think I might need it..."

"I could always have Tiny pour you a scotch, it's much more effective in humans," Lucifer said, already waving at Tiny to get a new beer sent Dwight's way.

"Ya know, I think I might actually take you up on that. Think a scotch sound just about perfect right now."

"Good," Lucifer said. "Tiny? Get this poor Haven refugee some proper alcohol instead."

And lo, there was a glass of scotch.

"Ah there's the good stuff.." Dwight said taking a sip. "Been a while since I've had a good scotch. Other than the stuff Duke smuggled in and kept on hand for the Gull, Haven didn't really have any bars or good places to drink."

"See, I keep telling Duke there's nothing of value to be found in Maine," Lucifer said.

"Try not to think about it too much personally," Dwight said taking a drink. "I spent my entire life in Maine, and the last ten or so years of it in Haven. So, kind of a bitter sweet mix.... it gets complicated dealing with the emotions" he added with a sad chuckle.

"I honestly don't understand how either of you could live there all that time and feel anything 'complicated' about it besides 'run away from this boring-yet-traumatizing, lobster-roll-worshipping state'," Lucifer said.

Dwight thought for a moment, taking another sip of the scotch.

"I guess it's partly the idea that it's home. It's where you are from. So good or bad you always feel a sort of connection to it.... feel drawn to it. Even when that might not be the best thing for you."

Probably that way for most people... home roots die hard and always leave a little something behind.

Lucifer snorted. "You humans are adorable," he said. "I'd rather be shot in the head than return to the Silver City, myself."

"Well, that is a bit more of an option for you than it is for us mere mortals," Dwight said with a laugh. "Guess that is one of the things that sets us apart and makes us truly human- for better or for worse."

Dwight muttered that last part under his breath slightly as he turned his attention back to the glass in his hands.

"Or all Havenites are born with a bizarre, masochistic defect," Lucifer said, "That seems more likely."

"Touché!" Dwight said with an acknowledging nod.

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The Devil's Nest, Friday Night

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