As much as the bar's color scheme offends his sense of interior design, Lucifer finds himself there this evening. I mean, what an eyesore. His internal monologue matches the aesthetic of the corner of the lobby. Ugly and disorganized, bitter with age, and decidedly aware of just how out of place it is. What else draws someone to a bar like this?
Truthfully, he'd hoped he'd be alone. It's late into the hours of the night, and hell, he'd tend himself, but the feline behind the counter wouldn't hear a word of it. He's a nice fellow, really. A soft voice. Lucifer finds himself, temporarily plucked from his misery, wondering whether or not Husker is permitted to leave the bar....or if the radio demon has something to do with just how adamant he is. The thought adds to his disgruntled expression, lips pursed.
The king nearly jumps, hands clasping the bar's edge as Angel Dust announces his presence. He doesn't recover quickly, giving the actor a sheepish grin and a flimsy chuckle. "Eh-heh...No...uh...." His tone drops a step or two, folding his arms on the counter and leaning forward as if defeated. "Hard millennium," he admits. But the last seven have been a real fucking kick in the teeth.
Without looking, Lucifer intercepts the sliding glass with his palm, feeling the liquid slosh over his glove. Slowly, the fallen glances at the spider, seeing his smile. It elicits one from him, a mirror. "Of course, we can...and uh⸺" He leans over, one hand covering the side of his mouth, "you didn't hear it from me, but there's booze if you know where to look." A genuine laugh now, musical as he throws his head back.
"Actually, you did hear it from me. You're gonna need it when you make it up there."