Chapter Text
The sound of screams echoing off the walls of the Hazbin Hotel was not an unusual melody to exit one's suite to, be they screams of despair, anger, addiction, withdrawal – the list went on, and Alastor could pick out each and every familiar voice. He could often determine what emotion accompanied the scream, matching the reason to the wailer with unnerving accuracy.
Stepping into the hall with Lucifer on his heels, Alastor cocked his head. Though it was undeniably a scream of distress accompanied by subtle notes of panic and just a vague hint of rage, he was struggling to place the owner of said scream. It could be that it was one of their newer residents, but something in the voice seemed familiar. He looked around to catch Lucifer's eye, finding the man staring, aghast, down the long line of their hallway.
“Is that... Charlie's girlfriend?” Lucifer asked, even as the echoing scream faded and died. Alastor lifted a brow, the familiarity of the voice clicking in his mind now that Lucifer had suggested it.
“You know, I think it might be. And just what could be pushing our dear fallen exorcist into such lamentations?” Alastor wondered aloud. His smile brightened, this wail of despair better than caffeine when it came to getting his blood pumping of a morning. Lucifer swatted him on the arm, lips thinning into disapproval as he glared.
“Stop sounding so happy about it, you psychopath.”
“Oh, but I thought you liked it when I was happy. What was it you were waxing lyrical about last night? How much of an 'honour' it is to see the trappings of my public persona discarded, much like you toss my clothing all over the floor–”
“Alastor.” Lucifer flushed, the heat in his glare darkening to a simmer. Alastor chuckled as the sound of canned laughter rang from his staff, and he jerked his head towards the stairs.
“Well, we're never going to figure out what she's screaming about if we stand around here flirting all morning. Would you care to do the honours?”
Alastor ignored Lucifer's answering grumble about how this was a poor example of flirtation, because the man was at least doing as he'd been asked; he waved his hand and summoned a portal, the swirling pink edges of it splitting the air as neatly as it split reality. The hotel lobby was visible through its centre, and Alastor stooped a little as he stepped through, the tips of his ears pressing against the top of it.
One day, Lucifer would get into the habit of summoning portals a person of normal height could use. Alastor would train it into him one way or another.
They stepped into an eerie silence, the quiet of the lobby broken only by the ticking of the clock behind the desk – and the vague sound of voices murmuring behind the closed doors of the staff lounge. Alastor glanced down at Lucifer as he dismissed the portal, lifting one shoulder in a shrug and tilting his head towards the parlour.
Perhaps he ought to be taking less joy in this, for Lucifer's face was strained with worry – despite his attempts to hide it as he fiddled with the ring on his pinkie. But Alastor had rarely heard Vaggi so off-kilter, and he always delighted in seeing the masks others adorned themselves with crack and crumble. It would never happen to him, of course.
At least – it certainly wouldn't happen again. Not now that Lucifer had given up on getting under his skin and replaced his enthusiasm for the task with getting under his clothes, something which had turned out to be unexpectedly enjoyable for both parties.
Pushing open the door to the kitchen – upon finding the lounge devoid of life – they finally located their morning banshee. Vaggi was crumpled on the floor, her face in her hands as she rested on her haunches, and Charlie was gently shushing her and rubbing her back. On the floor at her side was a cake platter, some few crumbs littering the tiles – but there was no sign of a dropped cake to indicate the reason for Vaggi's distress.
“I'm so sorry, babe. I wanted it to be a surprise, and now it's gone, and–”
“Shh, Vaggi, it's okay. It's okay, you don't need to be upset. We'll make another one–”
“It took hours!”
“Then we'll make a day of it – oh! Dad. Alastor. Um, now's not really a good time.” Charlie bit her lip as she looked up, the creak of the door as it swung closed obviously attracting her attention. Alastor's smile was probably far too bright, at least if the way Lucifer nudged him was any indication, and he purposefully hid his teeth behind closed lips.
He could make concessions.
“What happened, sweetie?” Lucifer asked quietly, rushing forward to offer what comfort he could. Vaggi's face was hidden behind her hair, several loud sniffles echoing through the room as she hastily scrubbed at her eyes and nose. Without a word, Alastor crossed the room and summoned a monogrammed handkerchief with a flourish of his wrist, dangling it from thumb and forefinger.
Vaggi snatched it from him without even saying 'thank you'. Some folks simply had no manners. He cast his gaze over the room, taking note of the way the pantry door was slightly askew; two glasses missing from the rack. The hotel's good glasses – not the cheap tableware they used in the bar. He turned in place and raised a brow at the smears of frosting on the handle of the fridge, glancing back over his shoulder to where Lucifer was sitting Charlie down at the kitchen table.
A flash of movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, Vaggi reaching for that dropped platter, and Alastor sent out a coil of shadow to catch her wrist. Something here didn't fit, and it was niggling at the back of his mind.
“Vaggi – well, I didn't know about it, but apparently Vaggi made us a cake. For our anniversary. But when she came down this morning to finish decorating it... it was gone.”
“A rather dramatic response to a missing baked good,” Alastor observed. There was a scuff of frosting on the floor, a pair of streaks seemingly stumbling away from the fridge. Vaggi glared at him as she pushed herself to her feet, blowing her nose with a loud squeak.
“I spent all fucking day on it, asshole. It was meant to be special. It was... there was...” Her cheeks darkened, gold flooding over the bridge of her nose. “I was just upset.”
Alastor's smile sharpened, his teeth making a reappearance. “Quite.”
“You think somebody took it? Maybe... maybe they didn't realise it was Vaggi's?” Lucifer tried, cupping Charlie's hands with his own. She glanced down at his fingers, brows pinching in apparent confusion for a moment – before she shook her head as Vaggi slumped into a chair at her side, head hanging in her hands once more.
“I put signs up. Like, fifty of them. Anyone who took it had to have seen them,” Vaggi muttered.
Far be it for Alastor to presume that sinners held little respect for handwritten signs warning them away from a free cake, but if Vaggi believed those signs were enough, then he would take her word for it. For now.
At the very least, it demonstrated the fact that whoever had taken this cake knew it wasn't theirs to enjoy. That turned this into a case of wilful theft, and Alastor's mind was ticking over the possibilities, something like excitement bubbling low in his chest.
He strode over, putting a friendly hand on Vaggi's shoulder. She flinched away from his touch as though burned, but his enthusiasm couldn't be dimmed. A dramatic flair of music filled the kitchen as Alastor snapped his fingers, a deerstalker hat dropping onto his head – yes, he was aware of the irony – as a notebook and pen materialised in his hand.
“Then it seems we're intruding upon a crime scene! Tell me, Vagatha–”
“Not my name.” She scowled. Alastor ignored her.
“When was the last time you saw your cake intact?”
He waited, pen poised above his notebook. Charlie looked at him like he'd grown a second head, and whilst he wouldn't be opposed to the idea – it would make a wonderful conversational partner – there was no such additional skull sprouting from his shoulders. Lucifer stared, nonplussed, before his lips twitched.
“Um...” Vaggi looked at Charlie, as if silently asking whether or not she ought to entertain this madness. Charlie shrugged, looking to her father – and Lucifer stood up with a grin, joining Alastor as he snapped a magnifying glass into existence. He held it up to his face, looking utterly ridiculous as one eye grew to comically large proportions.
“Don't you worry, sweetie. We'll get to the bottom of things. We'll figure out who stole your cake and–”
“Eat them?” Alastor suggested. Lucifer jabbed him in the side with an elbow as Charlie's eyes widened in alarm.
“Make a... a citizen's arrest!” Lucifer finished. Alastor turned to peer down at him, a furrow twisting his brow.
“You're not a citizen.”
Lucifer's mouth opened, finger raised to argue his point – but he snapped his jaw shut with a click and a muttered 'huh'. He scratched his chin, squinting up at a corner of the room. “Then what kind of arrest would it be?”
“A regular one, I suppose. Can kings arrest people? Is there such thing as a royal anti-pardon?” Alastor mused. Lucifer pulled out his phone, tapping away at the screen after pulling up a search engine, and Charlie looked between them with increasing impatience.
“Dad!” She protested. Lucifer almost dropped his phone, juggling it one-handed for a moment before shoving it back into his pocket with a wince and an awkward smile. “Just – don't arrest anyone. Don't eat anyone. If you figure out who did this, let me know, and we'll... have a talk about appropriate boundaries,” she said firmly. Privately, Alastor thought losing a finger or two would be a far better deterrent, but he was not in charge of the redemption efforts.
That was probably for the best.
“Capital! Now, let's start with the two of you. As you were on the scene of the crime at the time of its discovery–”
“We discovered it, you moron,” Vaggi growled. Undeterred, Alastor ploughed ahead, drawing on all his knowledge of radio plays and detective novels as he scrawled their names in his notebook. Absently, he sent out a tendril of his power, summoning up a line of 'do not cross' tape and throwing it haphazardly around the door. A shadow minion popped into existence, squeezing itself under the threshold and taking up guard on the other side.
“Be that as it may. You were the first two on the scene this morning, were you not?” Alastor pressed. Charlie sat up a little straighter, nodding as she wrung her fingers together. Now, there was a nervous habit if Alastor had ever seen one. He turned the full force of his gaze on her as Lucifer peered at the surface of the kitchen counter with his magnifying glass. “And you, young Charlotte – you weren't aware of the existence of this cake until your paramour mentioned it this morning?”
She nodded, biting her lip.
“I... Vaggi told me she had something for me, but she wouldn't tell me what it was. She opened the fridge, I saw the way her eye widened when she looked in – and she... well, that's when she yelled.” Charlie cast an apologetic look Vaggi's way. “She was really upset, Alastor. It was like somebody had stabbed her, and she knocked the platter out of the fridge when she collapsed. Why was it so important to you, Vaggi?”
Charlie reached out and clasped Vaggi's hand. Vaggi stared miserably at the surface of the table, twisting the handkerchief Alastor had summoned with her free fingers. Her shoulders were tight, her face completely downcast as a flush once more infused her cheeks.
“It was... it was just meant to be special. That was all.”
Alastor let out a doubtful little hum, jotting down a note about her overreaction. He tapped his pen against the paper before pointing it once more at Charlie. “And where were you during the night? Can you account for your movements?”
She stared at him in disbelief, her mouth falling open in shock. Lucifer returned to Alastor's side and aimed his magnifying glass Charlie's way, though there was a noted lack of enthusiasm to his movements. He flicked a glance up at Alastor – who put a hand on his shoulder, sharp claws clinging to his collarbones in a way he certainly intended to be reassuring.
“Me?” Charlie exclaimed. She looked at Vaggi, shaking her head. “You can't seriously think that I would... that I would take something Vaggi made! That she put signs on!”
A pretty protest, but not an actual answer. Alastor lifted his hand from Lucifer's shoulder and twirled his pen in the air, not looking at the way it danced between his fingers. It clicked against each of his claws, a pointed little tap as he shot an expectant look Charlie's way. She sagged back in her seat, letting out an offended huff as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“I was in bed. Asleep,” she added pointedly, pink creeping in to colour her pale cheeks. Vaggi looked up for a moment, a faint line marring the space between her brows as she slotted her fingers between Charlie's and bestowed upon Alastor yet another glare.
He scratched down Charlie's answer, widening his grin as he turned to Vaggi. “And what time did you last see your cake alive and well?”
“Alastor,” Lucifer hissed. Alastor cleared his throat.
“My mistake. At what time did you last see your cake whole and untouched?” Alastor corrected. A pity that this wasn't as fascinating as a murder might be, but one made do. It certainly beat attending another meditation sharing circle, for even Alastor could grow tired of listening to tales of woe and remorse.
Vaggi blinked, looking down as she thought. She glanced at the clock hanging above the kitchen counters, pursing her lips a little.
“Eleven... no, maybe half past. I went up to bed then.”
It was just after seven in the morning right now – and Alastor wasn't going to criticise the two of them for choosing cake for breakfast, for he didn't want another lecture on his own culinary habits – which gave their criminal a seven to eight hour window. Plenty of time to get into the kitchen without being seen, abscond with the cake, and make their way back to their bedroom, with the rest of the hotel staff none the wiser.
At least their suspects could be narrowed down to those with access to the staff facilities. In a perfect world, that would reduce the potential thieves down to only staff members, but Charlie was rather generous when it came to handing out honorary memberships. Alastor jotted down a list of names: Charlie, Vaggi, Husk, Niffty, Cherri Bomb, Baxter. He added himself and Lucifer to the list, just to be fair, though he was fairly certain he'd remember swallowing an entire cake.
“Do you have a photo of the cake?” Lucifer piped up. Alastor was about to chastise him for such a foolish question, but Vaggi nodded and pulled out her phone. The look Lucifer shot him was far too smug for Alastor's liking, his eyes narrowing as he reluctantly conceded a point to his pesky partner. Cell phones chimed as Vaggi sent her picture over to Lucifer, and his lips curved into a smile as he looked at it. Charlie leaned in, looking over Vaggi's shoulder and breathing out an 'oh, babe,' in appreciation.
From their reactions, Alastor could surmise that the cake in question was rather impressive, though when Lucifer angled his phone so that Alastor might see it, it struck no particular chords within him. Stylishly decorated, with piping circling its edges in delicate rosettes and the words 'happy anniversary, Charlie' written in neat cursive – it was still nothing more than a needlessly sugary concoction.
No wonder Lucifer appreciated the sight of it so much. He stared at his phone for another few seconds, putting it away only when Alastor cleared his throat with a pop of static.
“Wonderful. We'll let you know if we have further questions.” Alastor snapped his notebook shut, gesturing towards the door. “If you'd be so kind, sire?”
It took a moment for Lucifer to figure out what Alastor was asking for, given the fact that he'd mostly taped the door shut – but he finally snapped his fingers and summoned a portal back to the hotel lobby, ushering the others through. Charlie rubbed Vaggi's back as Lucifer assured them they'd get to the bottom of this, but Alastor was already eyeing up his next interviewee.
Strange, to see Husk up and about this early. A silent admission of guilt, perhaps? A restless stomach? That much sugar couldn't agree with an ordinary man, let alone one who had so many feline features. One of Alastor's ears twitched as he aimed a pointed glance Lucifer's way, jerking his head towards the bar.
The other man fell into step at his side, clambering up onto a stool as Alastor propped his elbows on the counter and flipped open his notebook once more, the pop of his static catching Husk's attention. He could see the way the fur on the back of Husk's neck stood on end from the moment he'd detected Alastor's presence, the feathers of his tail flicking irritably against the floor.
“What?” Husk demanded, turning in place and hefting the crate he'd been unpacking onto the bar top. “In case you've forgotten, I've got shit to do. Unless you want the guests goin' thirsty.”
“Where were you between the hours of eleven last night and seven this morning?” Alastor asked without preamble, hoping that the shock of being asked so abruptly might startle some kind of truthfulness from the bartender. As it was, Husk only blinked, lifting his shoulders in an easy shrug.
He resumed unpacking his crate, dragging out garnishes and fanciful salts accompanied by a packet of tiny paper umbrellas. Alastor noticed Lucifer's attention snag on those colourful paper decorations, subtly catching the other man's hand when he reached towards them.
“Workin'. Well, till about two. Went to bed not long after. Got up about twenty minutes ago when I got a call from the delivery driver, said he was out front. Fuckin' early, and I'm gonna be droppin' a complaint with the company. It's a joke. What self-respecting–” Static flared, Alastor's eyes widening as they sparked with amusement, and Husk blew out a snort. “What sinner's awake at that hour, huh?” He turned to pack away a few bottles of simple syrup and grenadine, the flight feathers on the backs of his wings bent and dishevelled. “Why?”
“Were you alone?” Lucifer chimed in, apparently determined to be useful. Alastor shot him an approving glance, for it was the very question that had been dancing on the tip of his own tongue. Trust Lucifer to steal something from such a place.
Husk's tail flicked against the floor.
“Yeah. You gonna tell me why you're askin', or are you just doin' some kind of productivity survey?” Husk grunted, turning back to them with a glare. Alastor scrawled down a note as Lucifer looked up at him from the corner of his eye. Husk finally seemed to notice their getup, Alastor's hat and notebook and Lucifer's magnifying glass, his brows pinching into a confused frown. “What's goin' on?”
“There's been an incident. So, there's nobody to corroborate your whereabouts between two and six-thirty. Fascinating,” Alastor trilled, trying and failing to stifle a flutter of recorded laughter. Husk's expression turned wary, his claws brushing over the buttons on the till they used.
“I ain't been pocketin' any of the profits. You can check – it's all there.”
It hadn't been on Alastor's mind, but now that Husk mentioned it...
He made a mental note to do just that later. Lucifer cleared his throat, pushing himself up as he stepped down from his stool and put a hand on Alastor's forearm. Alastor looked down at it with indulgent restraint, the whine of his feedback increasing in pitch for no more than a second.
If Husk had any thoughts on how much more publicly they were flaunting their relationship these days, he wisely chose to keep those thoughts to himself.
“Don't leave town,” Alastor told him as he straightened up, spinning on his heel and glancing down at the next name on his list.
“Don't – what? I can't fuckin' leave, asshole!” Husk exclaimed, talking to Alastor's retreating back as his smile widened, a snicker catching in his throat. He'd always wanted to say something like that, and even Lucifer's gentle bump against his hip wasn't chastisement enough to stop him enjoying it.
Lucifer caught his hand as they climbed the stairs, tugging him around a corner on the second floor. He slid his hands over Alastor's hips, nudging his back up against the wall and tipping his head up with a devilish grin – if one would excuse the metaphor.
“You're very cute when you're playing detective,” Lucifer muttered. He slipped a leg between Alastor's knees, and Alastor let the back of his skull rest against the wall, keeping his mouth firmly out of range as he grinned down his nose at the other man.
“My dear Lucifer. I'm not playing at anything. I'm going to solve this mystery, if only because it might get me out of a week of 'team-building exercises'. I trust you're not going to interfere in the process?” He lifted a brow, ears drooping both to one side as his head twisted on his neck.
If Lucifer was not going to take this cake-theft seriously, then Alastor did not need his assistance.
Mercifully, it was possible to teach an ancient living aspect of the infinite new tricks, for Lucifer's expression slipped into seriousness, his nod as enthusiastic as a bobble-headed doll glued to a car dashboard.
“Of course. Who's next?” Lucifer asked. He still hadn't let go of Alastor's hips, the warmth of him pressing up against his front as he tilted his head even further, his chin digging into Alastor's sternum. With a wince, Alastor lifted an arm to peer at his notebook over Lucifer's shoulder. There was no point in trying to dislodge him. He knew that for a fact.
“Niffty,” Alastor muttered, tapping his thumb agains the page. “Although you'd be hard-pressed to get a conversation out of her at this hour. She usually starts her rounds of room service, changing the sheets – often rousting occupants from their beds if the need arises.”
“That's why Charlie's morning sessions are always so full?” Lucifer blinked up at him. Alastor's eyes glinted with amusement as he tipped his head down to shoot the other man a languid, easy grin. A lock of hair was out of place on Lucifer's head, hanging lower than it should, and Alastor carefully tucked it back amongst its fellows with his free hand.
“Indeed. But don't tell her that – I'm sure she's ecstatic with the impression that the guests are all simply eager to start their day with a healthy dose of repentance.” And an even healthier dose of coffee, followed shortly thereafter by an afternoon nap – for those who had the luxury of free time. “We might have better luck speaking to Miss Cherri Bomb. I do believe Niffty should be getting to her floor right... about...”
His ears pricked higher as a bevy of curses drifted down the stairs, a series of thumps accompanying them. Her language got more and more colourful by the day, and Alastor was never completely convinced by her claims that the profanities emerging from her mouth were honest-to-goodness Australian slang – and not just something she made up on the spot.
“Fucking cock-munching little dero! Told you a hundred times, I'm gonna rip you a new one and shove my fist so far up it you're gonna munt my fucking rings–”
“Now,” Alastor finished, his teeth gleaming as the heavy tread of Cherri's boots thumped down the stairs. “Be a dear and fetch her a coffee? From the cafe down the street, seeing as how the kitchen is off-limits. I'll meet you in the staff parlour,” he added, finally condescending to lower his head with a roll of his eyes when Lucifer refused to move; refused to loosen his grip on Alastor's waist, his lips pursed in a pout.
His ears dipped low, for public displays of affection were not exactly his forte, but he could allow the other man this much. A brief press of their lips together, and even that was enough that the heady sweetness of Lucifer's mouth dulled his senses, his static fading to a quiet buzz. The man had an incurable sweet-tooth, his morning coffee more sugar than caffeine, and if he were anyone other than the King of Hell then Alastor would be warning him about rotting his teeth.
“Alright. Don't solve the crime without me,” Lucifer murmured against his mouth, lips tickling Alastor's and his breath huffing over his cheek. Alastor straightened up, steadfastly ignoring the faint heat in his cheeks as Lucifer popped out of the hotel in a shower of sparkles – and Cherri Bomb stomped onto the landing, kicking at one of the banisters for good measure.
Alastor whirled, his smile firmly fixed in place as his coat spun about his thighs, notebook in one hand and pen in the other. He wielded it in place of his staff, his ears popping up either side of his deerstalker hat.
“Good morning, my dear! Might I have a word? I'm afraid the kitchen is rather off-limits, but the King of Hell himself has gone to fetch you your morning brew!” Alastor called, charm oozing off him in spades. Cherri looked up from where she'd squatted down on the top step, focused on changing her shoes around so that they were on the correct feet.
She scowled, a great yawn splitting her face – but she did not argue. She followed him with a bleary-eyed sigh, still muttering insults under her breath as she did her best to fix the tangle of her ponytail.
Alastor huffed a low sound of amusement to himself, tapping his pen against the notes he'd made so far.
* * * * * *
“Why the fuck do you wanna know what I was up to last night? I don't work here, remember. I wasn't slacking off or nothing,” Cherri asked, kicking her booted feet onto the sofa and wrapping her free arm around her waist. Alastor wasn't sure whether the intention was to give herself a shelf on which to rest the takeaway coffee cup Lucifer had brought her, but it was certainly an effective method.
It seemed that the element of surprise was not enough to secure an answer as to her whereabouts between the hours in question. They would have to attempt a different approach, for she didn't appear to be cowed by the knowledge that it was the King of Hell himself – in the illustrious company of the Radio Demon, no less – asking her these questions.
“There was a theft within the staff kitchen. We're just trying to determine your movements so we can rule you out as a possibility,” Alastor explained. Not accusing her, not telling her she was a suspect. Nobody liked to hear that. No, it was the assumption of innocence, the impression that it was already a forgone conclusion, that had people opening up.
She frowned over her coffee cup, confusion creeping in to replace her annoyance.
“A theft? Look, Husk said if it doesn't have a name on it and it's not dripping blood, it's free game. If you're banging on about those bloody pop-tarts, I swear, I didn't know Baxter had started using the staff kitchen, and he should've been following the rules anyway. How's a girl to know–”
Alastor held up a hand, cutting her off mid self-righteous rant. “It's not about the pop-tarts.” He hadn't heard anything about any pop-tarts. “We simply need to get an idea of where everyone was at the time of the theft.”
His radio filter was humming softly over his words, and he'd pitched his voice deliberately high. He added a flick of his wrist for good measure, tucking his claws up next to his face and giving her the most effete smile he could manage. He stopped short of batting his eyelashes, but he watched her defences start to loosen regardless.
“Alright... well... I went up to my room about eleven. And then I called Pen! Yeah, we were on a video call until about... uh, I wanna say three in the morning? Half past? We chatted for a bit, then we watched a movie together. I hung up when I realised he'd fallen asleep.” Her combative look was fading, a fond smile tugging at her lips in its place as she fiddled with the hem of her sweater, coffee cup still clutched in one hand.
“Pentious will confirm this?” Alastor asked, just for clarity's sake. Cherri gave a firm nod, and he added that note to his pages. He pushed himself to his feet, though Lucifer looked a little startled at how easily he'd accepted her explanation as he followed suit. “And you went to bed around...”
“About four,” Cherri confirmed. Alastor nodded, humming quietly under his breath. It still left a few hours unaccounted for, but it was a start. “He didn't fall asleep till after the movie, I reckon I woulda disowned him if he had,” she added. Alastor jotted down that note as well.
“That's everything for now. Oh – were you aware that Vaggi had been making a cake for her and Charlotte's anniversary?” Alastor asked, just before he stepped through the door. Cherri shrugged, sipping from her coffee. He hummed to himself and glanced over at Lucifer to see if the other man had anything to add.
He'd tucked his magnifying glass into his breast pocket, where it was in constant danger of toppling onto the floor. He had one arm folded over his chest, cupping his elbow as he scratched at his chin with his other hand. Lucifer was clearly deep in thought, and though Alastor might once have made some jab at his intelligence, warning him not to strain something, now he simply waited.
“What was the movie?” Lucifer finally asked. Alastor blinked, having not considered that little detail. Cherri's sharp teeth flashed in a wide smile as she lowered her cup, eye sparkling with excitement.
“The Mummy. You heard of it?”
Alastor hadn't, and Lucifer squinted one eye, sifting through the banks of his memories.
“Thank you, Cherri. Please stay away from the kitchen until we've managed to get to the bottom of things,” Alastor reminded her. She shot him a thumbs up before pulling out her phone, and Alastor's stomach growled – a sharp reminder that neither he nor Lucifer had managed to have breakfast.
Lucifer glanced down at the sound. “That cafe I went to looked like it had some decent sandwiches, did you want to...?”
A brief break wouldn't hurt. And everyone deduced things better when they weren't running on empty. Alastor let Lucifer summon a portal, once more stooping through it to step onto the bustling streets of Pentagram City.
At least his presence – if not the king's – cleared a table for them.
~to be continued~