The dusk outside is deepening. Normally he would have lighted more candles by now--the shack has no electricity--but the soft blue gloom settling in makes the firelight's flicker across Lucifer's skin and wings just that much more arresting. He's watching in his peripheral vision even as he pours the tea, enchanted by the subtle motion.

Willingly he follows the light pull, and he slides into his lap without hesitation or fear of being too heavy or ungainly. Somehow he manages to hold onto the teacup without spilling or dropping, even as his legs are pulled softly but irresistibly apart. He shivers, though, breathing picking up. "I let Veronica go. It was nice for a while. Different, but nice. She knew something had changed, of course. I kept her anyway, for a few years, but I didn't want to break her mind. So I let her go, and came here to think for a bit."

He sips the tea, smiles, and offers to hold the cup to Lucifer's lips. "It didn't hurt the way I expected it to."

Which is not to say it didn't hurt. Just that he's over it already. "I like the sea. It's bigger and older than I'll ever be."