Since their brief meeting, Lucifer had gotten into a bit of a scrap with a few catholic priests, various burns and cuts on his body healing. He had a split lip and bruising around his left eye, and he was exhausted. He quickly searched out the big ghoul and huddled up to Ferrus, purring weakly.
He’d dozed off in one of the many common areas around the dormitories, head lolled over the back of a couch and legs in a tangled mess. It was late and the halls were quiet, and in the low candlelight he’d drifted into a light slumber.
A sudden warmth against his side stirred him, though. He shook awake, rubbing at his eyes — and saw a bruised and bloodied Lucifer curled into his side, head rested on his broad shoulder and eyes squeezed shut. He wasn’t used to this sort of contact with the entity, especially not after their little spats since meeting. It was clear, however, that the demon needed it.
“Hey, Luc?” he said, voice still rough with grogginess. “Luc? You alright?”