Lucifer Morningstar is busy trying to avoid the throne of Hell with his life in Los Angeles when he comes across Detectives Chloe Decker and Isabelle Mikaelson... The latter of which is putting pieces in place so that she may take back her throne as...
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There's something about her.
Lucifer has seen nearly everything Creation has to offer – the disadvantage of being one of the oldest beings ever, he supposes, another of his Father's gifts – but when his eyes sweep over his club, a satisfactory pride blooming in his chest, it catches on her.
Maybe it's because that pride isn't nearly as immense as it was the first night at Lux, or the second, or the third, maybe it's because of this stimulatingly tart drink that his new bartender mixed up for him, but it's entirely possible it was just her.
Tall, elegant and... beautiful wasn't a good enough word for her. Look at that face, he thinks with a sly smirk curling his mouth: sharp angles, pretty petal lips, ageless and gorgeous. Soft dark waves tumbling down her back, red silk wrapped around her and tied off at the waist. Mature and grounded, unlike any of the other sweet girls here – not that there was anything wrong with them, mind you – but look at that woman.
Dark eyes sweep over the crowd, his crowd, almost predatory and inhuman in a way he recognizes. A demon? No, any demon who dared to defy his commands would've only stepped foot in Lux to grovel at his feet for permission.
And they'd be swiftly refused, of course.
He's about to call for Mazikeen, just to check – though at this point, he was invested enough that he'd be willing to broker out a different deal to gain her a pardon – when those dark eyes fix on him.
They're curious, he can see from across the crowd, and there's a brutal intelligence to them that widens his smirk.
He brings up his free hand, wiggles his long fingers in a titillating wave... but instead of the giggle or sly look he expects, he's rewarded by a haughty slant of her eyebrow.
He almost laughs out loud: there have been plenty who were resistant to his charms, using the word loosely, and he's never minded; even enjoyed the chase, the persuasion most times. But to be so loftily refuted, right off the bat...
Mmm. He's not sure if he should be offended, or intrigued. There's one of those, licking flames in the pit of his belly, but he's not sure at all.
Ha, story of his love life, isn't that?
She raises her chin defiantly, tossing back her lovely waves and it immediately draws his attention to her long, graceful neck, adorned by a thin silver necklace. Vintage by the looks of it. Some sort of blue jewel acted as a pendant.
It's out of touch with the rest of her sleek, modern look. Sentimental, perhaps? He'd have to find out tomorrow morning.
"What's got your- Oh." Mazikeen makes a sound of interest, leaning forward as she swipes a cloth across a glass very suggestively. "Hello."
"Down, girl." He purrs, not taking his eyes off the mystery woman. She tilts her head, casting an inquisitive glance at the demo ness at his shoulder. "This one's mine."
