Lucifer's Mansion, Thursday Evening

So Lucifer had actually hoped to avoid his Duke-related issues until they ceased to be relevant, either through enough dinners, or enough sex, or perhaps both. But yesterday's baggage disaster had made that impossible, and while he had managed to postpone some chunk of that conversation until a less ridiculous time--

Well, cats and bags and Dukes and bloodhounds-for-the-fixable or something.

He'd gone out, gotten a nice, large salmon and a host of other groceries, and spent most of the day sublimating through-- well, through cleaning that salmon and cutting some steaks out of it, mostly.

Shut up. He was fine.

It was getting to be evening now, though. At least the salmon-gutting had worked off the worst of the whatever.

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