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Summary
“In fact, all I want is a conversation,” Alastor hums, as if a conversation between them is something normal. It happened once or twice, if that much, when they both were at their lowest after that TV-headed demon nearly fucked them both up, before fighting was back at the table. “I'm sure your Majesty can spare a few minutes to listen to his humble servant?”
“Humble? Doubt it. Servant? I wish,” Lucifer grunts. “At the very least you'd respect me.”
“Hm, who can say,” Alastor shrugs, stopping his pacing right in front of Lucifer again. “But I do have a bottle of Beelzejuice I got from contraband that I'm willing to share with you for your trouble.”
Lucifer narrows his eyes, wondering what the fuck the Radio Demon could want, seeing the way he looks at Lucifer with his head tilted slightly, waiting for a response.
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Spring comes to Hell the same way it comes to Earth, and, with it, comes the heat/rut season. Lucifer is not happy to go through it alone another year after Lilith's leaving, when the Radio Demon makes a proposition he hadn't been expecting.