sirenspull_logs | ~*~SLUMBER PARTY~*~ <3

Entry tags:

~~SLUMBER PARTY~~ <3

Who: A shifter, a lawyer, and Satan (the fun one)
When: Night
Where: Sam & Edgeworth's apartment
Summary: Sam and Edgeworth have a guest over for dinner
Warnings: TBA
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[it's quite the domestic scene, Sam in the kitchen turning steaks on a griddle and Gizmo at his feet (hoping for a fallen scrap). Plates and glasses are already set out on their small table, as is a bowl of ceasar salad and some honey-glazed biscuits.

The salad is healthy at least.]

Don't know what time he'll be here. Should be soon I guess. [he glances over his shoulder at Edgeworth, grinning cheekily] You decided which Star Wars movie we're gonna watch tonight?

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[His expression is slightly puzzled before he smooths it over.]

I..."really" spend time on my work. As for "fun" - [His slight gesture takes in the apartment, Gizmo, and their books - and Sam, as well.]

What of yourself?

I have managed to get him out campin' a time or two though. [with a fond smile for the lawyer. He sips his wine.]

Camping? [Eyebrow raise.] Isn't that a step on the dangerous side around here?

It takes special equipment, as a matter of course, and we take numerous other precautions as well. Setting up lines of communication, et cetera. [The memory of those trips, though, does seem to drain just a little more tension from Edgeworth - and maybe that smile does as well. When he picks up his glass for a swallow of wine, his movements are less stiff than before.]

[They spur other memories for Sam, too. - Times of closeness and privacy, affection and something more. Times alone and together. A day under cherry blossoms, and what followed after.

He swallows a quick bite of steak, roughly.]

[And Lucifer is just watching Sam now with a knowing, clever smirk, like he's caught the shifter in the act of--well, of anything one wouldn't want to be caught doing.]

Careful, Sam, you don't want to choke.

[Lucifer hasn't touched his own food yet; watching the two men is thus far too entertaining.]

[And that makes Edgeworth's temper rise once more. "Lucifer's" tone sounds nearly mocking, which is inappropriate if indeed Sam is in danger of choking and inappropriate if that expression on his face is indeed unhappiness rather than some airway-related distress.

But he ignores that anger, instead turning, half reaching out before drawing back, self-conscious at that unrestrained gesture. Still, he doesn't turn away until he's certain Sam is in no danger of choking.

Then he looks back to Lucifer, a slightly vicious note in his voice.]

You didn't answer my earlier question.

[...which is the point where Sam did choke, realizing that Lucifer could see. He coughed and grabbed his wine glass, washing his throat clear.]

I'm fine. [Not looking at him.]

[Lucifer doesn't laugh at him...but then, Lucifer never laughs at much. The way he looks at Sam is close enough.]

I'm sorry, Edgeworth, you're right. I don't know where my head is tonight. [Significant smirk at Sam.]

Work takes up most of my time, and since I enjoy my 'job', that's where most of my fun comes in. But I do enjoy a good book, decent gossip if it's funny, a prank...good company. But that's hard to find, especially around here.

[Edgeworth, though, wasn't really listening - his gaze was focused on Sam as the other man coughed, his every muscle tensed, prepared to spring into action. Only once Sam declares himself fine does Edgeworth look back at Lucifer...only to realize he hadn't really been listening.

He clears his throat and nods, hoping that this remark is apropos:]

Indeed. It sounds like you do keep yourself busy enough.

...Neither of you have even touched the biscuits. [an awkward, stilted offering, glancing between them.

(and thinking Stop that at Lucifer.)]

[Lucifer looks at the plate curiously, until he figures out which one is the 'biscuit'.]

What do you both think of these Hallmark holidays?

[Edgeworth looks over at Sam curiously, tilting his head slightly to the side, trying to figure out what exactly is making his tone so awkward and strange. He tries hard to communicate the question with his eyes, then looks back to Lucifer, picking up a biscuit with his fingers but swallowing a bit more wine instead.]

Forgive me. "Hallmark holiday"?

He means Valentine's Day.

[he catches Edgeworth's look and attempts to placate with a quirky smile. Better to just sweep it under a mental rug than try and communicate I was thinking about that time we had sex and Lucifer is telepathic through facial cues.

He scratches at his cheek] It can be cute. I tend to have fun most holidays - really any excuse to get people together, get 'em out and enjoyin' themselves. There's too much pressure on the day, but I don't think it's a bad thing to celebrate, even if it is commercialized all to hell.

...And whether you love it or you hate it, it gets people out drinkin', so it's good for business.

Saint's days have never done much for me, but since this one was taken over by my brothers....

[Yeah. Cupid. It's humiliating being related to him, but Lucifer likes his family for the most part so he deals with things like Valentine's Day with a sort of nostalgia.]

Is there going to be a special on pink drinks at Merlotte's, then?

[He studiously cuts his steak as Lucifer speaks in order to hide his eyes, rolling as they are at all the talk of saints and his brothers, et cetera. Maybe the issue is colored by his dislike of the man, slightly, but he has less tolerance for all the grandiose celestial nonsense than usual.]

It will be good if you are able to turn a profit off of all of this absurdity.

And cutesy drink names and specials, yessir. [he lifts his wine glass, toasting to capitalism.]

Didn't know Eros was part of your family tree. [and he nudges Edgeworth] C'mon, it's got some charm to it.

[He shakes his head and sips his wine] Cupid. But there's something uncomfortable about claiming a family member who runs around in diapers and cries on you.

By 'cutesy' drink names, I assume the 'wet pussy' is getting renamed for the night? [he knows that one only because of Gabriel, ok.]

[If Edgeworth knew slang, he'd be shocked and appalled by the name of that drink. As he doesn't, he just frowns slightly and thinks it's odd.]

...As a celebration of love - I suppose there is a certain measure of charm, yes. But there's rather a lot going on otherwise that is charmless.

[To Lucifer:] And "Cupid" as per the classical representation was no infant, you know.

[Sam, on the other hand, knows full well what that means, and it's a wonder he doesn't choke on his steak again.] The names haven't been decided yet. But that one'll probably be changed, yeah.

Charmless? Like what?

[Lucifer looks at Edgeworth curiously, wanting an answer to that, too.]

[Edgeworth is slightly surprised by the curiosity - particularly since he'd thrown the comment out rather thoughtlessly. After a moment, he clears his throat, though, and answers.]

Well - there are the commercial aspects of it, of course, as though commercializing emotion were at all laudable. There are also the facts of the holiday: that people are often rushed into it, et cetera. But - I'm thinking mostly of the criminal aspect...I can think of two separate cases I prosecuted involving this holiday, and both were...heinous. It often brings out the worst in people.

...Well, hell. People kill each other over love an' lust every day. Doesn't take a holiday for that.

But I could see where it'd sour it for you. [which he happens to think is a damn shame - and worth changing]

I'd be surprised if people kill each other more often on Valentine's Day. Christmas is the day for that.

[If he'd been braced for that, then he wouldn't have blanched. Indeed, he might not even have reacted. But he hears those words, and immediately he thinks to the two murders which defined his life, one but three days after Christmas, one on Christmas Eve - the brutal murder of his father as he lay incapacitated, fifteen years later the murder for which he himself had stood trial.

In the back of his mind, he's absolutely furious at his reaction. Lucifer had been referring to murders motivated by Christmas, of course; it had been but a witticism based around the friction generated by family togetherness, et cetera. He wishes he has some dry comment to throw in - or any comment at all. Anything at all. Even just a Right or a weak Indeed.

Instead, he just lowers his head to his plate and resolutely cuts his steak and tries to get a hold of himself.]

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