Lucifer's Castle in Northern Norway, Saturday... Noonish?

[my_own_advocate]

New Years' Eve was always a good excuse for a party. A glam dinner party with as much eyeliner as either of the men could get away with. Then dancing. Going out to see the northern lights. More dancing. Alcohol. A whole lot of nudity.

Lucifer wouldn't actually be able to tell you when they'd hit midnight.

Or what time it was now.

He fished the sex toy out of the sink before he ran the tap, filling a quick glass of water for himself. A large bottle of something tipped over beside him-- he caught it just in time.

"Right, where did we leave the rest of these?" he muttered, hauling the silicone thing with him. He kicked aside a bunch of streamers as he made his way into the living area. And. Paused. "Wasn't Duke going to put that on ice?" he wondered, gingerly nudging aside the bucket.

He peered over the sofa at the mugs and the-- "Oh, right, we really did empty out that bottle of lube."

Why was he narrating this? He wasn't sure. But his target was nearby.

"Ah, blessed single malt!"

... sitting on the large inflatable plesiosaur. Of course.

[[ open for phone calls or them who are there ]]