Re: [The piano bar: Misha & Lucifer.]
"Do you consider it jealousy to want a level playing ground? To create two sets of beings that think for themselves, but only one that can act freely?" An absent movement of fingers that twisted his glass in the condensation gathered on the wooden tabletop. "I suppose if you do, then it was jealousy of a sort. I see it as wanting for us what humanity was given. Especially when they didn't, and still don't, realize what a gift it is to not live with a leash around your neck."
Lucifer's eyes flared at Misha's recitation of one of the only things that still pricked at him and his pride. "I started no war. I voiced my opinion and got kicked out and Fell far Below until I hit bottom. I shout and call Him out on his bullshit, but I never sent anyone to battle." He listened to all of Misha's questions and his innocent point of view, and shook his head. "You're not listening. The people Below? Most of them, in their deepest thoughts, want that punishment. More than that, H-hell was already there for me to fall into. I didn't create anything other than a tiny corner of it to claim for myself." His voice caught on labeling it as anything other than 'Below', but he pushed past it and did his best to avoid making a big deal of the stumble. "And just because I Fell doesn't mean that I have any more free will from Him than any other angel. You talk about it like I gained some sort of freedom. But it's just a relocation." Too many words, too many secrets, spilled between him and his newly-found son.
Too much. He shook his head and pushed back from the table, suddenly done with the conversation. It wasn't defeat, since this wasn't a battle (in his eyes), but they were' prodding at things that were still an open wound. And he'd been considerate enough to not pry too much into Misha's history, while they were digging into his own with sharp, poking fingers. "You may not reckon that it's needed, and I might not want to keep it open, but it's not up to us. You think on that, and if you've got an issue with it, I'm not the one you need to lodge your protest with. Go visit your Grandfather." He was standing by the time he spat out the last, the presence of wide wings behind his back, even if they weren't visible, and with a single flap of them, he was gone, not catching the attention of anyone else in the bar.