my_own_advocate | Entries tagged with what: complicated things come in threes

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The house was an utter mess.

Empty bottles and empty delivery containers were liberally strewn across several rooms. There had been at least one 'accident' with broken plates, and there were shredded clothes in the walk-in closet. Nevermind the stains.

It looked like three teenagers had spent a full weekend partying in there, which was probably because they had. Eventually they'd passed out in Lucifer's bed, one of Samael's wings stretched lazily over the other two occupants.

The other one had wound up sort of wedged between the bed and the nightstand, which meant Lucifer was now waking up - slowly - to one Hell of a crick in his wing.

"Mgh," he mumbled, not quite awake, and tried to pull his wing free.

[[ for the other two here. this will go well. ]]

Last night had been quite nice. Samael had almost forgotten about the stupid bloody prank or how he still couldn't bloody well fly out of here - Michael was going to get one massive wedgie when he made it out of here - and he'd happily collapsed into the soft bed he kept finding himself drawn to.

But now he was awake, and sitting up. And for the first time, he noticed the bar. And the piano.

"That other place had those," he muttered to himself, pushing away to go poke at bottles. Try things from bottles. Take a bottle with him to the big piano and start poking merrily at the keys, trying to reproduce some of the things he'd heard yesterday.

Keeping himself entertained while he was stuck here, instead of spitting obscenities was clearly the best revenge he could possibly have on Michael.

[[ for anyone who has a reason to be here! ]]