WHO: Peggy Carter and Lucifer Morningstar WHAT: Conversations at work, making dolls and painting blocks WHEN: Day Two, Morning WHERE: The Arstotzka Christmas Toy Factory RATING: Low STATUS: Complete
So far, so good, which was suspicious.
Of course, he had given Dolores the choice of turning him in or not, and then he'd deliberately moved away from her so as to not evoke further suspicion. Or maybe he was just becoming, paranoid. Either way, he had made it to work at the toy factory which he deemed the most depressing place in the world given the low quality of some of the toys being produced, especially what he was making.
He picked up his tray and box of supplies and moved over to a different table. "Well hello there," he said, sitting down across from Peggy. "About time we met properly." He glanced over at the blocks she was painting, and then held up the Lucifer doll he'd made. "Spitting image, don't you think?"
Peggy looked up when he spoke to her, and she smiled. In front of her were a row of small wooden blocks and a variety of paints. She picked one up and began to carefully paint a Ш onto one of its faces. "I don't think you're that squishy," she said wyly. "Nice to meet you, too, Lucifer."
"I can't get the hair right," he said, staring at the doll. "And we all know, the devil's in the details." He flashed her a smile, then casually glanced at the door as he saw someone enter. Probably nothing to worry about.
Taking a pair of scissors, he worked at trimming doll Lucifer's hair. "Slightly better," he mused. "Oh you know what he's missing? His ring." That was a moot point, really, since the doll version of himself didn't really have hands, but if someone was listening to everything they said he wanted it known that he wanted his ring back.
Still.
"Some child is going to have a delightfully pathetic Christmas with these," he said gleefully.
Peggy enjoyed the easy way he made a pun about himself but then followed his gaze toward the door. "Looking for someone in particular?" she asked, looking back down at her work as she picked up each block and repeated the character in them in turn.
"Still haven't found your ring?" she asked. She set her brush down for a brief moment. "You know, I didn't arrive here with everything I had on my person either. A few of my personal items showed up in the suitcase left for me, but - I'm sure you're not the only one who had something go missing."
"No one in particular, no," Lucifer replied. "But look at us. We're sitting around painting blocks and making felt toys like bloody elves. What's the point? And what's the point of my ring being missing?"
He picked up some felt to start a brand new doll, deciding that anyone he knew here needed to be represented properly in felt. Or at least, as many as he could manage before they came and arrested him. "And why am I even participating?"
"Are these rhetorical questions or would you like for me to answer them?" Peggy pursed her lips together to hide a smile.
"Oh no, I'm asking," Lucifer clarified, seeing as his therapist wasn't there.
She lifted a finger. "There's likely no discernable point. I don't know what's so important about your ring, so I can't answer that." Peggy ticked off a second finger. Then - " No one is forcing you to be an elf. You have the choice to walk out the door and stop working if you'd like." Although she knew that was a bad idea, and she suspected he knew that too. But then again, smuggling wasn't a good idea either, and she'd done it.
"So if no one is forcing me, why am I here? That's the question, don't you think?" Lucifer asked. It was more rhetorical than before, but he'd welcome any insight. "I mean, other than the need for food and Rumple Minze, of course. Though I do hope they change that up and give us vodka this time. I mean, we are in the right part of the world for that."
He shrugged, glancing around the room. "Did you see where people weren't allowed to cross?" he asked. Maybe this wasn't the place for such discussions but Lucifer was almost hoping something would happen, that they'd come in and arrest him or that whoever was truly behind this all would give some sort of indication that they were paying attention.
"You know, I no longer think my father's behind this, but whoever it is? They're doing a bloody good impression of him."
"What, an impression of playing god? Anyone can play god if given the right circumstances." She'd seen it in the eyes of men fighting wars, of the men who gave Steve that serum, of Hollywood directors making a movie. It just depended on the level of god-playing. "Becoming dependent on alcohol to make this situation better won't make it any better."
Peggy moved onto another letter, this time the Ф. She looked at Lucifer. "Weren't you the one saying that everyone has their own choice, free will and all that? Even if someone here is playing at god, we still have our free will, in some aspects, at least."
"Well it isn't much of a choice, is it?" Lucifer replied. "Told where we'll live, given the most ridiculous box of rations, wondering if the people you care about have enough to get by. And I'm not becoming dependent on alcohol," he said before admitting, "I mean, I'd definitely appreciate the taste more, but it has multiple uses which makes it exceptionally useful when things are sparse."
He supposed you could use peppermint schnapps to sterilize a wound, but who would want to? Or maybe that was a better use of it than actually drinking it. Glancing around the room again, eyes lingering just a moment on the door, he turned his attention back to Peggy, making some adjustments to the doll on hand before holding it up to show off. "I think I captured your likeness quite nicely, if you do ask me."
"You're assuming that all of those are fixated variables," Peggy pointed out. "What if you moved to another room or shared your rations with someone else or didn't come here to work. How bad do you think the punishment really would be?" These were all questions she'd been asking herself as well, and while she suspected that the answer was 'very bad, indeed,' she also appreciated the fact that, of all the people here, she could talk to the actual devil about it.
She arched an eyebrow at the doll in his hand. "It's recognizable at least." She smiled at him.
He thought a moment before deciding that his sullen and angry roommate would be next, considering Peggy's question. "I suppose it all depends on how awful this Yulelag is. The pun itself is cringeworthy. Think it's more of a labor camp or just pure torture? Or both?" he asked. "Humans have a tendancy of giving hell a run for its money. As if eternal damnation isn't enough, let's punish people here too."
"Would you have any advantage in surviving time there, given your former job overseeing punishments in hell? Maybe you should volunteer and report back." She changed colors and letters again.
"I do have an extremely high tolerance for pain," Lucifer agreed, pointing to his face as if the still swollen area offered proof. But as to volunteering and reporting back, he already had that in the works. Which is why he glanced at the door yet again. He may have been many things but subtle wasn't one of them. Though, he followed that up by looking around to see if he could spot his roommate but didn't spot him anywhere close. Too bad. A visual could have been helpful.
"And what about you? How prepared would you be to face whatever may lay in store there?"
Peggy almost answered immediately but then closed her mouth and considered for a moment. "I've undergone multitudes of training in preparation for interrogation and torture," she said matter of factly. She thought that she maybe ought to not trust Lucifer as much as she did, seeing as how he was the literal devil. And yet …
Well that certainly took his attention away from sewing on Kylo Ren's eyes. His brows quirked up as he looked at her in approval. "Who are you?"
She couldn't help but laugh at the look on his face and his question. "I'm not sure what you're really asking," Peggy said casually. "I already told you. My name is Peggy Carter."
"And what is it that you do?" he asked, even as he appreciated just how cagey her response was. She may have been giving him some ideas.
A beat and then she held up one of her toy blocks. "I'm a toymaker, Lucifer," she said, the corner of her mouth tugging into a grin. "Same as you."
"I guess I am," he agreed, examining his latest creation. "But this is the saddest toy factory I've ever seen."
His collection of dolls, at least, left much to be desired. That wasn't going to keep him from showing them off to the people he was modeling them after.
"This whole place is pretty sad," she agreed. "I'm not surprised that the factory is the worst of it."
"We haven't visited the Yulelag yet," he pointed out.
But he was pretty sure that time was coming, for him at least.
"Ah, good point. That is probably even worse than it is here."