Diner: Hel & Lucifer
Lucifer hadn't been in town long. Less than a day, in fact, and was barely settled into his new home (neither mansion nor town) when he received the invitation. Having known that the town had called to him for some reason, the invitation didn't surprise. He'd been around long enough, himself, to know that what humans believed wasn't nearly the entire story.
He'd missed the chaos in town, though there were still lingering signs of it. And he was disappointed that he'd missed it - he was always up for a spot of good chaos. Not the overly-violent type, especially in more recent years as he discovered that man was more and more able to handle that on their own. But things that turned the world on its head. As he walked up to the diner, hands in the pockets of his suit, he didn't look at all as if he belonged. Moreso, however, than if he'd brought one of his cars. Instead, he was simply there, walking the last half a block up to the door of the dingy building and pushing his way through the door.
Before leaving his new house, he'd put on "his best", sharply tailored and undercut trimmed clean, but no jacket for him with the weather still on the warmish side. He didn't look like any sort of dangerous at first glance, doe-eyed and soft mouth, but people gave him a bit of space when he desired (or less, if he desired that), and this was a moment for space. When he pushed through the door of the diner, people looked up and then away again, their eyes sliding over the man standing there, like water off oiled surface. His own gaze landed sharp on the one who had issued the night's invitation, no doubt in his mind as he crossed toward the column of pale-haired sharp beauty at the counter. He watched the interaction with the waitress before he slid into the neighboring empty seat, one elbow on the counter as he turned himself toward the woman sitting there.