justanothersculptor:
Dean hadn’t gone out in weeks. His girlfriend Becca had been eating up all of his time, and he had to oblige. Appearances were important after all.
Dean had convinced Becca to go out for a girls night. He swore it was for her, to help her recharge and refocus, but he really needed her out of his hair. Tonight was his night to scout. Tensions revolving around the local serial killer were at a low at the moment, and he was going to use every second of it to his advantage.
Dean had walked into several bars and saw no one worth pursuing, almost giving up for the evening before heading to his last bar of choice. Upon walking in he saw a man with several empty drinks around him. Dean’s alarms were sounding, eager to get to work.
“Not now,” he thought to himself as a grabbed an empty seat at the bar, the man sitting just a few seats down, “Everything has to be perfect.”
Dean signaled for the bartender and ordered a drink. He watched the man out of the corner of his eye before finally piping up. “You okay there?”
“Oy, I’m just FINE.” Lucifer had been waiting for the man to acknowledge him. He was egging him on as best as he could the moment he entered the room, trying to let his Grace help draw the man to him. The archangel was bent over his drink as he’d seen a-many times when it comes to drunken fools. When he spoke, he made an effort to slur words or flat out speak nonsensical phrases—whatever got the guy off the most.
“Jus’ dealin’ withhh sssome stuff, y’know how it is,” he spoke, turning his body to face the man and giving him his best drunken smile that he could.
Dean stared at the man, analyzing him for any obvious weak points or obvious signs he’d be a good target. It took mere seconds for Dean to calculate, but he had done this for years. He had it down to a science.
“Yeah,” Dean chuckles, “I suppose I do. Everyone has things they’re dealing with. But you, my friend, do not seem fine. In any sense of the word.” Dean turned his fully attention to the man.
“I’m here if you need to talk about it.”
Most drunks around here loved that phrase. They always overshared, and Dean hopes this guy wasn’t an exception.
