emaxx
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As his gaze sweeps the lounge again, scanning for blonde strands styled in that perfectly imperfect hairdo and that razor-sharp smile, his pulse stutters.
Lucifer is gone.
Alastor blinks, forcing himself to focus, to push past the haze of alcohol and noise, but the room is crowded with bodies, demons handpicked to join the most unholy celebration of hedonism Hell can conjure. Figures blur together, an indistinct mass of movement and colour.
And then, from beneath the tall arch framing the doorway, carmine eyes meet his own.
Lucifer stands at the threshold, glancing back over his shoulder as though daring Alastor to follow.
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Prompts for the Trick or Treat by RadioApple Fever on X
1 • vampire [M for now, E soon]
2 • candied apple — kisses [T]
3 • storm — leaves [E]
4 • gothic — couples costume [M]
5 • ouija board — bone [G] -
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Clicks of smart shoes against pavement grow louder with each measured stride taken in his direction. Lucifer counts them by force of habit; six steps until the polished oxfords come to a stop right next to him.
Six seconds until their owner settles down on the chilly ground.
Six minutes of companionable silence interrupted only by the occasional cracking of tobacco pass until he speaks.
“She doesn't deserve you, you know.”
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One ring. Two. Three.
He was wrong, he wasn't going to answer. Aziraphale had a feeling he was going to be sick. Until the ringing stopped and he was welcomed by a deafening silence.
Then, he knew he was going to be sick. Come to think of it, Aziraphale couldn't recall any reasons why being stuck in a bar until morning was such a hassle.