Ballet Shoes and Radios

Lucifer's Fatherly Responsibility

-Day's Timeskip-

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Everybody seemed too busy to reply. Niffty, Charlie and Vaggie were hanging up Christmas decorations, you and Alastor were cooking, Angel was in his room tending to his pig, and Husk was sleeping off a pre-Christmas hangover. In fact, none of you heard the knocking. The cleanse was in less than an hour, and tension was high in the building. You had double checked your defenses this morning, and Alastor had done a little hocus pocus of his own. Then a more rhythmic, code like knock sounded.

Knock. Knock. Pause. Knock knock. Knock. Pause pause. Knock Knock.

A knock, a second's pause, another. A three seconds pause, then two knocks. One disconnected knock. Six seconds pause, two joined knocks. Charlie looked up from the tinsel and squealed with sheer delight, "It's my dad!" She sent the shiny red and silver decorations flying on her way to the door.  You heard it being thrust open, Charlie laughing, and Lucifer's voice. A group of footsteps, then the door closing. More footsteps. Charlie came in, at the head of the group, beaming. Her father followed behind, smiling fondly, not a very common expression on the devil's face, but it was usually there for his daughter, even after their falling out. The three V overlords followed, seeming rather reluctant. Charlie breathlessly introduced the newcomers to everyone and everything, while you used another one of your string related powers, you could send a purple thread to anywhere with a message. 

Sticking your head out of the remodeled kitchen, You sent one to inform Angel Dust of the guests' arrival, and one to wake Husk up. You popped your head back in and turned to Alastor. His eyes seemed a shade darker than usual, as well as his smile. His chopping got faster, but no less precise. He could practically sense his nemesis through the walls. You groaned internally, Vox and Alastor would be in the same building for twenty four hours, and the Radio Demon was already starting to slip. You smiled, took a portion of the vegetables to help him chop, anything to calm him down, but it didn't seem to work very well.  His smile turned slightly more genuine though, so that was something. "Don't worry dear, I'll avoid being in the same room as the picture show demon as much as I can, if you really are that concerned," Alastor grinned wider, as if he was reading your mind. You flashed a relieved smile back. You had been pretty uptight in the days leading up to Lucifer and the three other overlords' arrival, trying to be Alastor's anger management counsellor, Husk's behavioral coach, Niffty's  cleaning aid, Angel's therapist, Charlie's family wellbeing instructor, and Vaggie's girlfriend's parent interaction advisor. You'd never been in a relationship, nor had the best family, but you read your eyes out about those things in the library, a new addition to the hotel. "After all, we wouldn't want your hard work trying to help everyone to go to waste, would we?" You smiled wider, so someone besides Charlie and Vaggie appreciated you for your preparation efforts in this damned building. Niffty was sweet, sure, but she mostly expressed her gratitude with quick nods. She was in a permanent state of rush. You theorized that her deadly sin may have been sloth, and she was paying for it by having to make up for it this way in the afterlife.

Vox stuck his head into the kitchen, "Ooh, Puppet Strings, never assumed you as the type to hang around someone like him." The TV demon nodded to his rival.

"Never assumed you to be the petty type. Oh wait I did. What are petty people's characteristics again? Jealous, self obsessed, and stupid. You seem to fit that description perfectly," you sniped.

"Fucking bitch. Nobody likes you," Vox's digital face contorted into a scowl.

"Jealousy's a terrible disease. I would say get well soon but you deserve to suffer, connard(asshole in French)," you sassed.

Velvette stepped in, "Maybe speaking French makes you feel better about your sorry ass, but it makes you look... uh... makes you look like a... a fake." She returned to her phone, and you could have sworn she was searching "Insults for French Bitches"