Work Text:
Alastor unwraps his gift, aware that Lucifer's smirk bodes poorly.
He sighs at finding a mobile device. Lucifer's grin widens.
“Oh please." Angel Dust smirks. "Smiles can't work a hellphone.”
Is that so?
“Spoken like someone who doesn’t understand how such devices work,” Angel’s phone says in Alastor’s voice.
“What the—?” Angel stares at his phone, then at Alastor.
“It’s a glorified radio,” the phone continues, Alastor’s teeth flashing in sync. “I may hate the insipid things, but I can work them.” Alastor glares at Lucifer. "Not that I will."
"We'll see, Bambi."
"I hate you, too."
"Sure you do."