Archive of Our Own

Sleep refuses to find Vaggi. She has been laying in bed for what feels like days and what she knows to be three hours. When she closes her eye it seems to open by itself, just to stare at the dark ceiling.

Charlie sound asleep next to her, warm and snoring softly. Not even the steady in and out of her breathing is able to calm Vaggi. Her chest tingles unpleasantly. Every time she blinks she sees flashes of white behind her eyelids. Flashes of white and the sound of steel.

She doesn't want to get out of bed. She doesn't want to get out of bed because she hasn't been sleeping well these past few nights, and tomorrows to-do list is already hanging over her head like the sword of Damocles. She knows how she gets without enough sleep. Insomnia is a cruel punishment for a woman that goes so poorly without her eight hours. For the hundredth time Vaggi pushes the heels of her hand into her eye, takes a deep breath and tries to will herself to sleep.

She knows this doesn't work. Sleep is elusive, and the more you want her the further she stays away. Vaggi tries to think about anything else but she can't. The blanket feels to heavy suddenly, too hot. She kicks it off and only finds a sliver of relief. She can almost hear the hands of clocks ticking, even though its completely quiet in the bedroom.

And then, as if everything wasn't shitty enough, the tingling in her chest wraps around her lungs and a familiar panic lodges itself in her throat. She thinks she smells myrrh; myrrh and jasmine and dried blood.

"Not now," Vaggi wheezes as she swings her legs over the side of the bed, breath quickening. "Are you kidding me."

She tries to keep her pace steady as she walks out the bedroom and into the hallway, tries to keep her head up and her breathing even. Her hands squeeze into fists and her nails dig into the flesh there.

"Some fresh air," she whispers to herself in the half-dark, hoping to quiet the little voice telling her to run and hide. "I just need to get some fresh air."

Another wave of anxiety passes over her, but Vaggi manages to keep upright, manages to walk steadily, softly over the carpet. She forgot her bathrobe. Vaggi feels exposed in her nightclothes and it is just a tad too cold to go without, but she can't turn around. Going back is impossible.

Vaggi walks one straight line to the fourth floor balcony doors. She sees them when she rounds the corner at the end of the hallway, and they shine like a finish line. She doesn't hurry, fears that the moment she lets go of her controlled rhythm she'll make a sprint for it, that her body swears it's being chased. Steadily she walks until her hand wraps around the cold handle of the balcony doors, and she doesn't throw them open, she pushes them with measure. She shakes.

The moment she's outside she gasps, almost falls forward as stumbles to hold on to the railing. She squeezes her eye shut, tries to count her breaths into a healthy rhythm. The sounds of Hell ground her somewhat, taking off the edge of silence. Isn't that a funny thing?

Still, she struggles for air. She pounds a fist against the balcony railing, angry at herself, angry about all the things she does that she doesn't understand. She does it again and it hurts, but it's something to focus on. With her eye still firmly shut she raises her fist again, aiming for a sharp edge.

Her fist never hits the metal. It is intercepted just above it; a cold but gentle hand.

Vaggi's eye shoots open and she flails backwards in shock.

"Sorry!" Lucifer's voice rings out, his hands in front of his chest in surrender. "I didn't mean to startle you!"

Vaggi blinks, caught of guard by the Devil's presence. Her mind immediately corrects itself. Her girlfriend's father's presence. Father-in-law's presence? Well, that seemed a little presumptuous.

"I mean," Lucifer now clasps his hands together, face apologetic. "You didn't notice me when you walked out, and then I didn't know how to let you know that I was here, because you had your back turned to me and I was just standing there in a dark corner like some sort of creep, ha!" He turns his wedding ring. "And then I thought I should just leave quietly since you seemed, uhm, to be in thought, but then you, well- and it seemed like that hurt?"

Vaggi bites the inside of her lip as Lucifer tilts his head and his brows curl up in concern. He slows down a little.

"And I know… Well, you seemed like you were forgetting yourself there, and I didn't… Well, I certainly don't want to see you hurt."

He tries for a smile that Vaggi could impossibly replicate.

"So, I'm sorry for startling you, Vaggi."

And he says it in a tone of voice that is very warm and contained, her name careful and soft in his keeping.

Which is enough, apparently, for Vaggi to feel like she's being torn open, a cleaving straight through her chest. Her chin wobbles and her she tries to press her lips together to keep them from shaking. She doesn't want to do this right now, now here, not with the man (being? Angel?) she wants to impress but still finds so difficult to parse. She tries to take a deep breath but it breaks.

"Oh, oh dear." Lucifer steps forward like she's pulling at him, blackened hands floating through the air towards her face.

Her hand hurts. And with that thought the tears spill from her lashes, and it's mortifying how cool thumbs wipe them from her cheeks, how she's being shushed as she still can't seem to catch her breath right.

The back of her knees bump into something, and Lucifer nudges her to sit. A chair has materialised, soft and comfortable, and this almost breaks Vaggi out of her crying. She sits. A ruffling of fabric, and then a blanket wraps around her shoulders. She's suddenly infinitely grateful to not be out in only her nightclothes anymore.

"Thanks," she says on a very shaky voice, because she has to.

"Don't mention it," Lucifer tells her, crouching in front of her so she can look down at him. "Do you need me to- to do that counting thing? To help you, ah, with the breathing, that is."

What Vaggi really wants is to be left alone. This is what she always desires when she's in a pitiful state like this. But Charlie has shown her that what you want isn't always what is best for you, and if she takes even remotely after her father, Lucifer will not leave her to go through this alone either. Besides, Vaggi had been doing a bad job of counting for herself anyways.

So she chokes and nods.

It is not as strange as it should be, having Lucifer crouched in front of her, taking exaggerated breaths as he counts to four, then seven, then eight, and back to four again, just like Charlie had taught them. But even with him there, Vaggi is having a hard time getting herself under control. Her mind screams at her for taking so long, for not being able to regain herself, get herself under control, control, control.

Who would've thought the Devil could be patient. Vaggi doesn't recall doing it, but when she looks at her lap she sees her hands are squeezed around his, and she reckons this is the only reason they're not shaking. She can't find it in her to feel badly about it.

Then eventually, blessedly, she's able to wrangle her breathing. After being able to follow along to Lucifer's cadence a couple of time, Vaggi lets herself slump back into the chair. She lets go of Lucifer's hands, and his counting peters out. Vaggi pushes the heel of her hands into her eye, swearing some of her tears away.

Quiet, for a moment, which Lucifer isn't often. Vaggi should say something, but her throat hurts. She hears movement, Lucifer getting off the floor. She expects a pat on the shoulder and for him to walk inside. Instead she hears a soft thump, followed by the sound of water.

Vaggi frown and drags her hand away from her eye. Across from her stands another comfortable chair and in front of it, and very close to Vaggi's face, Lucifer holds up a glass of water.

Vaggi blinks. "Uhm."

"You want a drink? Your throat must be dry from all the…" he makes an exaggerated wheezing sound, in and out.

Vaggi hiccups and tries not to look as mortified as she feels.

Lucifer tilts his head and looks at her earnestly and concerned. He looks like Charlie, two of a kind.

"You want a straw?"

And then there's a purple, heart-shaped straw curling from the glass being offered to her. Vaggi takes it and Lucifer smiles. He moves back, sits down in the chair opposite.

"I hope that's alright," he says, a little sheepishly. "I didn't just want to- I thought you might like some… company."

The water is a balm to her throat. In fact, it might be the best glass of water she's ever had, and Vaggi doesn't remember ever having that much of an opinion on the taste of water. With her throat soothed (extremely, thoroughly soothed; her vocal cords feel like velvet), Vaggi finds her voice.

"It's alright, sir. I appreciate it."

Lucifer nods and sits back, legs crossing and gaze falling down, past her, gazing at the lights of the city through the balcony railing. He looks more, well, human, without his coat and hat. Vaggi feels a moment of reprieve now that his attention isn't on her. She's tired to the bone.

She needs to stop embarrassing herself when she can't sleep. Last time with Angel Dust had been bad enough. And now she went and had a panic attack in front of her hopefully soon-to-be father in law. Scratch that, she shouldn't be embarrassed, she should be mortified. She should apologise to him. She should apologise to Charlie. God, why couldn't she just manage to sleep through the night? Or at least stay in bed? Who just goes and panics about nothing. Vaggi's eye stings and really, the last thing she wants to do now is cry more.

And then Lucifer hums a tune, deep and warm and a little strange, a little out of time. The sound of it curls through the air like smoke, flutters down like leaves, sparkles and pops like bubbles of soap. First it is just his voice, but then the notes split and Vaggi isn't sure what she's listening to anymore. Some of it sounds like strings and harps, some of it sounds like water falling, but she's not quite familiar with any of it. It is so arresting it startles Vaggi out of her spiralling thoughts.

She watches the figure in front of her, face clean of all the emotions it usually conveys as he ponders the middle distance. He glows slightly, in the half dark of Hell's nights. Vaggi hadn't really noticed it before, but she does now. Lucifer indeed looks out of place. It makes her deeply sad for a short moment, but then the hum tugs at her. She lets his melody wrap around her, and it's very warm in it, almost like a cocoon. It's making her drowsy, which is a nice change from the dread and exhaustion. She lets herself luxuriate in it, just for a while.

"Sir?" she breaks her silence, and her voice is very soft, because she doesn't want the song to stop. "Lucifer, I mean."

Lucifer turns to her and blinks. "Oh," he says, and the humming continues without him, floating alongside his voice as he speaks. "Has it been very long?"

Vaggi's turn to blink, before she swallows. "No, Lucifer. Not too long."

"Right. Good. How do you feel?"

She might as well be honest. "Tired." The music wraps around her like a hug.

Lucifer nods sympathetically. "Yeah, that tends to happen."

She squeezes the glass in her lap. It has refilled itself. "But I'm okay." She takes another sip.

"Good. Was there a… did something happen?"

Vaggi breathes in, very deeply and slowly, before she shakes her head.

"No, I… this just happens. Sometimes."

Lucifer doesn't reply and Vaggi fumbles a little.

"I guess I…" She swallows before shaking her head. "It's silly. I just get like all…" She finds it difficult to say.

"I don't think it's silly." A beat. "Does it happen often?"

Vaggi sniffs. "Sometimes. Not too often. I, uhm." She runs a hand through her hair. "It's like my body suddenly… gets scared? Of something? I don't know."

Lucifer listens and looks like Charlie. Maybe that's what makes her continue.

"Charlie calls it leftover panic. It just starts. It doesn't really make sense." She hugs her knees close. "Nothing's happened and still I'm…" She trails off. Breathes.

"Hurt has teeth." Lucifer's voice is low, and Vaggi thinks she might hear a slight hissing on his consonants. "It bites and holds on. It's not silly, Vaggi."

He surprises her. He looks a lot older than he usually does. More grounded too. All she can do in the face of it is nod and swallow thickly.

"Si- Lucifer," she tries after a moment. "What are you doing here so late?"

He regards her questioningly for a beat, before looking quite caught out. "Oh, dear."

With the flick of a hand a watch appears midair, silver and swinging left to right with each second.

"Time!" He exclaims. "Golly, you can sure count on it just going on and on and on, can't you!"

The watch reads ten to three. He disappears it quickly. Chuckles somewhat tiredly.

"Couldn't sleep?" Vaggi inquires.

Lucifer waves a hand, looks away. "Sure."

The music is starting to die down. Vaggi doesn't want it to, which makes her feel a little childish.

"Do you want tea, instead?" Lucifer asks, jumping onto another topic yet again. "You- you like herbal right? I've got a killer chicory if you'd like. Or maybe, ah, camomile? People drink that before bed, right?"

Vaggi looks down at the glass in her hands.

"I don't…" She starts, aborts her sentence. "I'm okay. Thanks."

Lucifer's eyes flit from her face to the glass, then to her face, unsure. "Alright then."

Vaggi clears her throat. "I just… I just needed some fresh air."

Lucifer's features soften again, and the dying hum rumbles comfortingly.

"Yes. Seemed like it." Then, "Does your hand still hurt?"

Vaggi moves her fingers. She had forgotten about that. "Not too bad."

"You're sure?"

Vaggi nods, and knows she's probably not being all too convincing.

Lucifer drops his smile and sighs. "I really would prefer to take a look at it."

Vaggi stretches her hand. Some pricks of pain accompany the movement. "It's fine. Maybe it'll bruise, that's all."

Lucifer uncrosses his leg. "Well, it doesn't even have to."

Vaggi doesn't get the chance to respond. Lucifer gets up and crouches in front of her.

"Come on," he says, and before Vaggi knows she has laid her hand in his.

He turns it over, tuts at her palm as if there's something to see, and then a soft glow emits from his charcoal fingertips. Her hand warms and tingles where the hurt is. She can feel something very distinct run through her veins and to the very core of her, inquisitive but soft. It greets her, that's what it feels like. Like the scent of blossoms in early spring; sweet and returned after a harsh winter. It reminds her of home, of Heaven too but mostly- mostly of home before that. Of wooden floors and tall trees and wind chimes and soft, veiny, brown hands that would- that would cup her cheek and her mother would say-

And then the force recedes. Away from her chest, through her arm and out of her fingers it backs away, and with it it takes her pain, just like that. The glow dims and her hand is healed.

Lucifer is staring at her with very large eyes. It looks like he's going to say something, but no sound comes out of his mouth.

Vaggi swallows and gives them a moment.

"Well, that…" Lucifer breathes. "I'm sorry it's just… It's been a very long time, ha… since I've- I've said healed another angel."

'Another angel', even though neither of them are anymore, not really. Vaggi can't help but chuckle, and with it some of Lucifer's shock melts away.

"I didn't even know you could just… heal like that. I thought that was only for…" She bites her tongue because she isn't quite stupid enough to mention his brother. "Some others."

Lucifer huffs at that, smiling softly. "Jack of all trades, this bag of bones." He squeezes her hand. "All good?"

"Yes. Thank you. Again."

Lucifer nods and stands up with a groan, sits back down on the chair across from her. Vaggi looks at her now healed hand, moves her fingers. Nothing hurts.

"Do not mention it! Pfew. Well, I don't know about you but I feel like a coffee."

A steaming cup lands in his hands. It's covered in blue little flowers. Forget-me-not's, maybe.

He takes a sip. "Oh, that hits the spot."

Vaggi can't help it, she glances at his fingers, his arms. She had felt it when he'd been holding her hand, how raised lines of skin curlicued over the back of his hand, and now she sees how it travels up his wrist, over his arms. Scar tissue. Black on black which makes it hard to see, but it was there.

She doesn't know if she'll get the chance to ask ever again.

"Can you not… heal yourself?"

Lucifer seems caught off guard by the question. "Uhm. Sure I can." When he smiles its a little too sharp. "Don't need to often, hard to hurt, haha."

Vaggi frowns. "No, but… Your arms. It's scar tissue right?"

She can see his smile drop, his face fall into something darker.

"Do- do tell me if I'm overstepping," Vaggi backpedals, "but I was just wondering, because… Well, I never thought about it before."

Lucifer raises his cups to his mouth and blows away a cloud of steam, watches her. He takes another sip, then carefully puts the cup on an armrest.

"I really like you Vaggi," he begins, and Vaggi knows that cannot be a good start to an answer, and why did she have to ask, she could've just kept her mouth shut. It was what she had been taught to do for years for God's sake-

"I think you are a smart, brave young woman, and you make Charlie very happy." A small smile there. "Maybe you didn't know what you were asking. I don't think you would've if you knew."

Vaggi pulls at her blanket without thinking. Lucifer seems to be appraising her. He nods to himself.

"There have been… a few moments in my very long existence that I was not able to influence the outcome of, even if I wanted to." He holds up his the backs of his hands for her to see and wiggles his finger. "This was one of them."

Vaggi swallows. She's sorry. Sorry she asked. Sorry, because he looks older and heavier than she's ever seen him. Out of time.

"The Fall," she whispers, and Lucifer laughs softly, an edge of cruelty there.

Her eyes flick to the light in the sky, the ever watching eye of Heaven.

"Well, don't talk too loud," Lucifer whispers mockingly behind a hand. "What if they heard you were talking to me!"

Vaggi doesn't think it's all that funny.

"I'm sorry."

Lucifer huffs and smooths a thumb over the back of his hand. "It's fine. Don't apologise. It's… I think I got used to 'em."

The curling scars seem shine in the soft light the hotel emits.

"People sometimes think they're gloves, can you imagine. It goes all the way up to here." He points just below his shoulder.

It strikes Vaggi that he's being so forthcoming. But then she thinks, who does he have to talk to about things like this? It makes her feel sort of honoured, in a strange way. People usually don't… well, she isn't known for her soft approach. Maybe she just isn't good at handling feelings. Her own and others. Vaggi wonders if she always was, or if that got trained out of her.

If it is something she once possessed, Charlie is bringing it back to her. Charlie is a force of softness, of emotion and strength. Being around her is a baptism by fire, in a way. She makes her brave.

"Do they hurt?"

Lucifer's eyes snap back to hers. For a moment she thinks he isn't going to answer that one. He stretches his fingers in his lap, then lets them curl.

"Hm." He hums, thinking it over. He takes a breath. "I wouldn't say it hurts. They're too old for that. They get uncomfortable, and stiff. They need upkeep, and I am…" He trails off, waves the rest of the sentence away with a hand.

He cocks his head. "Maybe it's a little like that eye of yours."

Vaggi squeezes her legs closer to her, folding herself up a little tighter. She fights the urge to touch her face. "My eye doesn't hurt anymore."

"Not even when it rains?" Lucifer smirks.

Vaggi huffs. "I guess."

A beat.

"It was them, wasn't it." Lucifer's voice is low and weighty, and really, maybe he's the only one around that could understand. There weren't many souls who knew both of the softness of Heavens embrace, and sharpness of it's rage. A strange coin and a bitch to get your head around.

Vaggi nods. "I wasn't a very good soldier." Which seems to strike Lucifer. "Took my wings too, and then they left me here."

Lucifer's nostrils flare as he breathes. He shines like an ember, face tight in smothered indignation. Maybe she should revel in it, this anger for her plight, but in the frailty of night it just makes her sad. Her blankets are too soft for it, her chest too heavy.

"That's when Charlie found me," she continues, reverence on her tongue. "Your daughter saved my life."

And the thought of Charlie melts her father like she melts Vaggi just the same. The sharpness of anger leaves Lucifer like a breath.

"That is…" he swallows. "Charlie has a very big heart." Even the thought of her seems like it's enough to bring him close to tears. "I'm very glad she found you. You are both lucky."

Approval. That sure lodges itself in Vaggi's throat. "That means a lot, sir. Lucifer."

"It's a wonderful thing," he continues, fidgeting absentmindedly, fingers travelling to his wedding ring. "To have people around, to care for you, and you for them."

He's far away again, and Vaggi lets him. She suddenly wonders, now that he's more still than he usually is, now that his eyes betray his incomprehensible age, what it's like to be around since the beginning. The beginning beginning. To watch time and souls and empires and thoughts come and go, fold over each other like waves. She tries to imagine it, but doesn't get very far.

She takes a sip of water and watches the sky, eyes drawn to the white light of what used to be her home, now her adversary. It looks like it's light-years away. It looks like a different universe.

Pentagram city is a crater, Charlie had once told her.

Vaggi should stop being nosy. She should stop wondering and imagining and try to put two and two together. She should stop asking. Lute and Adam hated questions. Things were the way they were, the end of it.

She realises now, that Lucifer has never refused to answer any of her questions. He might consider them carefully, but he never tells her off.

She wants to ask him about archangels, she wants to ask him about the rules of Heaven, about what it was like when it was empty, about God and the seven days of creation and the Heavenly war and she wants to ask about the crater. She wants to ask him anything and everything she was never allowed to.

Instead, curious but fearful of the answer like child, she asks about what's bothering her the most.

She calls his name again, softly so he doesn't startle out of his reverie. "But did it hurt when you… when you got them?"

When their eyes meet he looks concerned. "What was that, dear?"

She can't help but glance at Heaven's eye. "Did it hurt. When you… fell."

The question curls between them in the air like smoke, and Lucifer stops moving altogether, stunned. But Vaggi wouldn't take it back, even if she could.

Everything has stopped moving, not just Lucifer. The sounds of the city do not reach her anymore and the wind has stilled completely. The screams of the night-birds has receded and Vaggi's sure she cannot even hear her own breathing. She watches a dust particle, suspended midair.

And then Lucifer chuckles, mirthless and old, and the world comes rushing back in.

"You know," he starts, "Charlie asked me the exact same thing, when she learned about it all." Again he waves a hand, pushes the weight of his words away, somewhere else. "She was just a kid but, you know, you can only keep things like that from children for so long. And Charlie has always been a little too smart for her own good." A spark of fondness sweetens the bitter.

Vaggi holds his gaze, because she is not one to back down. Lucifer smiles at her, eyes slightly narrowed, and she feels figured out.

"Do you want me to tell you what I told my little girl?"

Vaggi stops herself from nodding affirmatively.

"I'm not a little girl."

The Devil smiles, amused and condescending.

"Don't worry. I told her the truth." Vaggi watches the tight scars on his arms stretch as he moves. "It was over very quickly, and her mother and I held on to each other through the whole thing. We are a very sturdy duo."

The thought makes the lines around his eyes crinkle.

"It wasn't nice, and we were both very shaken, but we would do it again in a heartbeat."

Vaggi can almost see it; little Charlie, a young princess, sitting against the headboard of her bed and hugging a stuffed animal, eyes wide as her father tells her a story that would inform her forever. Was she scared when she asked? Did she have to gather her courage before she could attempt the question?

"Sometimes things are unpleasant, and we have to grit our teeth and bear it. Because it can be worth it." Lucifer's voice is warm, almost kind, when he says it, cushioning the reality of his words. He watches Vaggi from under his brow. "Because if we hadn't fallen, well… we wouldn't have Charlie, now would we."

Vaggi swallows. "Yeah. That's…"

Lucifer leans back a little. He looks tired. Then again, it is the middle of the night.

"I too," she adds lamely. "But I think you already know that."

Lucifer nods.

Vaggi bites her lip and knows with clarity she's being foolish, but she is not a child.

"But you…" She gathers some courage. "You didn't answer my question."

With this, the sound of wind. It is fast and sharp and lashing, and a whistling rings through it, far away and coming closer. Vaggi's stomach swoops as the steady pressure of gravity lets up, her hair rising and levitating in front of her. A feeling of weightlessness comes over her, and she grabs the armrests of her chair on instinct. The water from the glass in her lap floats up, defying laws of physics in front of her eyes. She's falling, it occurs to her, heart beating loudly in her throat. Her eyes shoot to Lucifer who is floating above his chair along with her, his hair whipping wildly in an impossible wind.

When he answers her his face is drenched in contempt, and Vaggi cannot tell if it's aimed at her.

"Worse than anything you could ever imagine." It rings in her ears. "And I get to remember it every day, like it happened a moment ago."

Vaggi tries to take a deep breath as weightlessness tugs on her. And then, quickly as it came, it puts her down. The sound of wind and that awful whistling sound die down too. The water returns neatly to its glass.

She doesn't know what to say. "I'm sorry."

Lucifer kisses his teeth and then his words come out clipped. "Don't apologise for asking questions. It gets on my nerves."

Perhaps Vaggi has found a limit to what she's should to ask. It embarrasses her slightly, until she processes what he's told her. She blinks.

Lucifer rubs two finger over his brow, quickly mellowing. "I am tired. As are you." His voice sounds somewhat apologetic.

Vaggi clears her throat, finds it doesn't clear much, and does it again. "Thank you," she says, at which Lucifer frowns questioningly. "For telling me and for… allowing me to ask. I don't have much practice with it," she confesses. "Questions weren't… encouraged."

"Ah." Lucifer nods. "That hasn't changed then." His eyes gaze trails off before it catches on the abandoned cup; a mix of surprise and weariness. "My coffee has gone cold."

Vaggi fidgets with an edge of her blanket. "Are you sure? About the questions stuff?" A short laugh bubbles out of her, a little crazed, a little excited. "Because I think that- that once I start I'll find it hard to stop."

Lucifer smiles tiredly as he blows hot air over his coffee. "Then don't stop. Let me be the last one that tells you to stop asking questions."

Vaggi nods, tries to really take it to heart.

"You're tired," he repeats.

Whether she wants it or not, tea appears in her hand. Camomile.

Lucifer stands, straightens his vest and holds the coffee with his other hand. Some of it spills over the edge, but he doesn't seem to notice.

"I'll leave you to it. I hope you'll be able to sleep."

The cup of tea is warm in her hands.

"I think I will," and she means it.

Lucifer nods, his lips twitching up in amusement, for some reason.

Then he says the strangest thing. "It was nice having someone to talk to, tonight." His thumb taps at his ring finger. "If you have trouble sleeping again you can always… well, you can always come knocking." And then, somewhat self-effacing, "Though maybe then we can move on to… some lighter subjects."

Vaggi presses her lips into a smile and nods, all words spent for the night.

"Good night, Vaggi."

In a mist of red and tingling lights, he leaves her to her own.

Vaggi takes a sip of tea and sits in the quiet.

But then, humming.