"I appreciate it," she said again. "Truly."
"Don't mention it," he said. "It's what any gentleman would do."
In the past six months, Serah hadn't encountered many gentlemen. She'd been hit on, catcalled, and even picked on, but not many have gone out of their way to hold open doors or carry things for her.
It was certainly a nice change of pace.
"I'm Sarah," she said politely, holding her hand out to him. "Or, well, you can call me Sarah. That's what everyone calls me now."
He eyed her peculiarly for a moment before reaching out and taking her hand, bringing it up to his mouth, pressing a light kiss to the back of it that made Serah's cheeks flush.
"Sarah," he said. "You can call me Don."
"My Lord!"
The double doors to the conference room flung open unexpectedly, Lire rushing in without knocking. Luce looked up from his cards, eyes narrowed angrily at the interruption. Lire knew better than to just burst in without permission. Luce had been gone six months, sure, but that was nothing compared to the six thousand years he spent down here before that. How soon they forget.
Luce was up out of his seat and right in front of Lire before the demon could utter another word. Grasping him around the neck, Luce lifted him off the ground, choking him as he slammed the demon back against the wall beside the door. He flailed, grasping Luce's hand as he struggled against his hold. "I don't recall telling you to enter."
"My Lord," Lire said again, his voice strained. "There's an angel at the gate."
Luce glared at him for a moment, straining his senses to try to feel the heavenly presence, but the gate was much too strong. He could only barely feel anything beyond it. Michael had outdone himself this time. There was no escaping that magic. "What angel?"
"A Dominion," Lire said.
Ah. Luce let go of Lire. The demon dropped to the ground hard as Luce turned around and walked right back over to his marble throne, sitting down in it. He brusquely waved his hand, motioning for Lire to leave when the demon climbed to his feet. "Send them away."
Lire raised his eyebrows with surprise. "You don't wish to speak to them?"
Luce shook his head. In the past he got a kick out of his angelic visitors, entertaining himself by taunting them, teasing them, tempting them… but there was no point anymore. He could convince a hundred of his brothers and sisters to fall, but it wouldn't make a difference. It wouldn't change a fucking thing.
Besides, the Dominion bored him shitless.
Lire scurried out, leaving Luce alone again. He went right back to playing Solitaire.
Every day, like clockwork, the Dominion showed up at the gate. And every day, minutes later, Lire would send him away. It went on for a week—a long, tedious week where Luce barely moved from his chair. Nothing appealed to him anymore.
It was the seventh day, and Luce haphazardly flipped cards around on the table when the doors to the room flung open again. Luce closed his eyes, sighing exasperatedly, as Lire burst in.
"My Lord," he shouted. "The angel—"
"I swear, Lire, if you come to me about that Dominion one more time I will gut you every day for the rest of your miserable existence."
"Not the Dominion," Lire said, his voice bordering on frantic. "It's—"
Before Lire could finish, Luce felt the tingle flow through him, the powerful Grace, so damn familiar, so damn appealing, if it weren't for the pungent odor that accompanied it. "Michael."
Within seconds, the scent of stagnant water filled the air as Lire choked on his words. Luce opened his eyes again, looking toward the doorway to find the demon impaled on the end of Michael's sword. Michael yanked it out, the demon exploding into a blast of smoke and fire, all trace of him vanishing from the room.
Shaking his head, Luce turned back to his cards, shuffling the ones in his hand. "That was pointless. He'll just regenerate by tomorrow in the pit."
"Pointless, maybe," Michael said, "but still satisfying."
"Self-indulgence," Lucifer said. "Isn't there something in the good book that warns against that?"
"It's not self-indulgence when it's for the greater good," Michael said. "He was evil."
"But he wasn't hurting you," Luce pointed out. "In fact, he was announcing your arrival. You should've thanked him. He seems to think you're a big deal, brother. He probably would've thrown you a parade had you asked."
Michael scoffed. Luce went back to flipping over cards, wordlessly playing his game. After a moment, Michael stepped further into the room. "Nice place you have here."
Luce stopped what he was doing and glanced at Michael, sensing the sarcasm in his voice. So out of character for the hard-ass Archangel. "Why are you here, Michael? Don't get me wrong—it's bold. Before today, Serah was the only one with the guts to step down here, and she only did it because she was desperate for something. So I can't help but wonder what you want from me."
Michael looked at him, his expression stoic. "The Dominion has been summoning you for a week, but you haven't responded."
"Yeah, well, I haven't been in the mood for company."
"You have a task," Michael said, ignoring his mocking remark.
"Look, I'm back where you've wanted me… what more do you expect? Me to throw a fucking housewarming party to prove I'm settling in?"
"Don't mention it," he said. "It's what any gentleman would do."
In the past six months, Serah hadn't encountered many gentlemen. She'd been hit on, catcalled, and even picked on, but not many have gone out of their way to hold open doors or carry things for her.
It was certainly a nice change of pace.
"I'm Sarah," she said politely, holding her hand out to him. "Or, well, you can call me Sarah. That's what everyone calls me now."
He eyed her peculiarly for a moment before reaching out and taking her hand, bringing it up to his mouth, pressing a light kiss to the back of it that made Serah's cheeks flush.
"Sarah," he said. "You can call me Don."
"My Lord!"
The double doors to the conference room flung open unexpectedly, Lire rushing in without knocking. Luce looked up from his cards, eyes narrowed angrily at the interruption. Lire knew better than to just burst in without permission. Luce had been gone six months, sure, but that was nothing compared to the six thousand years he spent down here before that. How soon they forget.
Luce was up out of his seat and right in front of Lire before the demon could utter another word. Grasping him around the neck, Luce lifted him off the ground, choking him as he slammed the demon back against the wall beside the door. He flailed, grasping Luce's hand as he struggled against his hold. "I don't recall telling you to enter."
"My Lord," Lire said again, his voice strained. "There's an angel at the gate."
Luce glared at him for a moment, straining his senses to try to feel the heavenly presence, but the gate was much too strong. He could only barely feel anything beyond it. Michael had outdone himself this time. There was no escaping that magic. "What angel?"
"A Dominion," Lire said.
Ah. Luce let go of Lire. The demon dropped to the ground hard as Luce turned around and walked right back over to his marble throne, sitting down in it. He brusquely waved his hand, motioning for Lire to leave when the demon climbed to his feet. "Send them away."
Lire raised his eyebrows with surprise. "You don't wish to speak to them?"
Luce shook his head. In the past he got a kick out of his angelic visitors, entertaining himself by taunting them, teasing them, tempting them… but there was no point anymore. He could convince a hundred of his brothers and sisters to fall, but it wouldn't make a difference. It wouldn't change a fucking thing.
Besides, the Dominion bored him shitless.
Lire scurried out, leaving Luce alone again. He went right back to playing Solitaire.
Every day, like clockwork, the Dominion showed up at the gate. And every day, minutes later, Lire would send him away. It went on for a week—a long, tedious week where Luce barely moved from his chair. Nothing appealed to him anymore.
It was the seventh day, and Luce haphazardly flipped cards around on the table when the doors to the room flung open again. Luce closed his eyes, sighing exasperatedly, as Lire burst in.
"My Lord," he shouted. "The angel—"
"I swear, Lire, if you come to me about that Dominion one more time I will gut you every day for the rest of your miserable existence."
"Not the Dominion," Lire said, his voice bordering on frantic. "It's—"
Before Lire could finish, Luce felt the tingle flow through him, the powerful Grace, so damn familiar, so damn appealing, if it weren't for the pungent odor that accompanied it. "Michael."
Within seconds, the scent of stagnant water filled the air as Lire choked on his words. Luce opened his eyes again, looking toward the doorway to find the demon impaled on the end of Michael's sword. Michael yanked it out, the demon exploding into a blast of smoke and fire, all trace of him vanishing from the room.
Shaking his head, Luce turned back to his cards, shuffling the ones in his hand. "That was pointless. He'll just regenerate by tomorrow in the pit."
"Pointless, maybe," Michael said, "but still satisfying."
"Self-indulgence," Lucifer said. "Isn't there something in the good book that warns against that?"
"It's not self-indulgence when it's for the greater good," Michael said. "He was evil."
"But he wasn't hurting you," Luce pointed out. "In fact, he was announcing your arrival. You should've thanked him. He seems to think you're a big deal, brother. He probably would've thrown you a parade had you asked."
Michael scoffed. Luce went back to flipping over cards, wordlessly playing his game. After a moment, Michael stepped further into the room. "Nice place you have here."
Luce stopped what he was doing and glanced at Michael, sensing the sarcasm in his voice. So out of character for the hard-ass Archangel. "Why are you here, Michael? Don't get me wrong—it's bold. Before today, Serah was the only one with the guts to step down here, and she only did it because she was desperate for something. So I can't help but wonder what you want from me."
Michael looked at him, his expression stoic. "The Dominion has been summoning you for a week, but you haven't responded."
"Yeah, well, I haven't been in the mood for company."
"You have a task," Michael said, ignoring his mocking remark.
"Look, I'm back where you've wanted me… what more do you expect? Me to throw a fucking housewarming party to prove I'm settling in?"
