Chapter Text
Maze stalks through the almost empty club, shooting a sultry smile in Patrick, the bartender’s, direction as she heads for the elevator. He meets her gaze for a moment before quickly averting it and returns to polishing the glass in his hand like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.
She reaches the golden doors and hits the call button harder than necessary, a show of her irritation to no one in particular. Although maybe if she broke it Lucifer would think twice before bothering her to come meet him. She dismisses the thought quickly. He would just replace it and miss the point as he always did.
The elevator dings as the door opens and she steps inside, positioning herself to lean against the back wall. As it ascends she idly wonders why she is bothering to do anything Lucifer asks of her.
Soon enough she arrives at the Penthouse and, with a sigh, enters the dark apartment.
“Lucifer,” she calls when she scans the place and doesn’t see him, “what do you want now? I haven’t got all…” Her voice trails off as something catches her attention.
Her eyes narrow as she approaches the area that once housed a fine set of Italian leather sofas. She stops, hands on hips, regarding the metal chair before her with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. Her head cocks as she hears movement coming from deeper within the flat, probably the bathroom.
“Ah!” Lucifer emerges from the bedroom behind her, she doesn’t turn to face him but hears him shrugging a jacket on and pulling the cuffs straight. “Maze, I need-”
“I don’t know what this is about,” she gestures to the throne sitting in front of her, “but, I approve.” She draws the last two words out, punctuating it by running her tongue over her teeth and prowls forward to inspect further.
She runs a finger over one of the swords along the back, testing the sharpness of the blade, and looks up to where he stands.
“Feeling homesick? Certainly makes the place feel more like home.”
He scoffs, looking affronted. “Homesick?” he spits the word, his expression darkening. "Hell is not my home, Mazikeen.”
She rolls her eyes at his dramatic outburst.
“Well? What’s with the throne then?” A wide amatory smile spreads across her face, eyebrows rising. “Decker into roleplay? Didn’t take her as the type.” She bites her lip suggestively.
“No! Chloe and I have been watching Game of Thrones, you know I love a good throne, I thought it would look good in the Penthouse.”
“Right…”
“You should watch it, it’s very…” he pauses, looking her up and down, “you.”
She leans against the arm of the chair. “Whatever. What did you want anyway? I’m in the middle of tracking a bounty so make it quick.”
“Oh,” he pulls his phone from his pocket, reading a text, “I actually have to go, this will have to wait.”
He heads towards the elevator and closes the doors behind him before she can protest.
She huffs. Why did she keep coming when he called her? She doesn’t work for him anymore. She moves around to sit in the chair. The metal is cold on her skin but sitting there makes her feel powerful.
She smirks to herself.
One day….