Abigail Hobbs is a survivor. (laniidae) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-08-19 02:33:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !trigger warning, abigail hobbs, lucifer morningstar |
Who: Lucifer + Abigail
What: Meeting
When: 8/18
Where: Lux
Rating: R for mentioning of triggery things.
Trigger Warnings: Brief mention of molestation, murder, sexual relations with 17 year olds.
Status: Complete.
She wanted to meet Samandriel’s boyfriend. They probably weren’t using that word yet, but she was. And as such, she wanted to make sure that Lucifer Morningstar was going to treat Samandriel the way he deserved. So she told her father what she was going to do and where she was going, smiling when he helped her on with her dress, and put on a pair of kitten heels before starting on her way to Lux.
It wasn’t hard to get her way through the door, not with her hair in an elegant updo and her black lace Gucci dress. The Jimmy Choos didn’t hurt either. They’d been clothes her father picked out for her and promptly pressed her against the kitchen counter while she’d tried them on. The high neck left no room for a scarf, but her scar was starting to bother her less and less.
Once inside, she transferred her clutch to her other hand (a ‘congratulations on college’ gift from her daddy) and walked toward the bar. “Gin martini, two olives, heavy vermouth, please.” She looked around for Morningstar while she stood.
The Morningstar wasn't difficult to find, not really. He owned the place, after all, and tended to mingle about like he was making very clear of the fact. His suit was fine and clearly expensive, despite being a basic black with white shirt combo. The red tie was striking against that though.
He'd just been speaking to the pianist, but seemed pleased enough after a moment to move on, back to the bar -- eyes drifting over the crowd for the night.
It wasn't that Lux didn't have new customers ever, but rarely many as elegantly dressed at the young woman at the bar. He stood next to her intentionally, even as he settled his martini glass down for a refill. Verbalizing his needs at the bar was something that didn't need happen these days.
Abigail smiled at the bartender and took her martini by the stem, sliding over a crisp bill even as she took a sip. The man next to her was handsome in an unconventional way, and she smirked as she set her glass down. There was only the tiniest bit of red lipstick on the rim. Her scar looked almost red in the dim light of the bar.
She wasn’t going to speak first, though. Let him make the introductions. She wondered if they had wine; too much gin would make her giggly.
He didn't mind speaking first -- he was the sort that often did, after all. He waited until he had his new martini, and then turned to her, almost appraisingly. She seemed familiar somehow, but couldn't quite place where from. It'd come to him, he was certain.
"Is this your first time here, at Lux?" he asked her. It was not so strange, nor was it an attempt at a pick up line. He liked knowing his customers, particularly the ones who dressed like were meant to be here.
“It is. It’s lovely,” she smiled, voice a little bit deeper than most people expected from someone so small. “A friend told me about it, he came here for the first time not so long ago.” If this man was clever, and she thought he was, he’d pick up on the reference.
Ah, that's where he'd seen her. She was Samandriel's friend, the one he spoke to often on the internet. Lucifer didn't think himself a creep for keeping tabs on his angel, even if he never did comment. Discretion was, of course, necessary.
"And how is Samandriel this evening?" He asked her, raising an eyebrow in faint amusement. Also, which bouncer did he need to fire for not knowing how to identify a fake ID?
“Worried I’m going to hurt you,” Abigail smirked. The bouncer hadn’t even carded her, which was even worse. “He’s rather precious.” She took another sip of her drink, smiling when a song she liked came on. “Do you dance, Mister Morningstar?”
"Lucifer, please. And I have been known to," Lucifer agreed, setting his drink down on the expensive black marble of the bar and offering her a hand. One didn't turn down an invitation to dance, particularly not with interesting women who might just be full of useful information.
"Shall we?" He only seemed bemused at the idea of an upcoming lecture. He wasn't worried -- after all, this was a place for higher society, and Abigail didn't look to just be playing the part in that dress.
She’d been a normal teenager until her father had adopted her. He’d taken her and helped teach her things - to appreciate classical music, good food, fine wine, to be sweet and polite and proper. Abigail smiled and took one last sip of her martini before taking his hand.
“Let’s,” she smiled. “I was telling Samandriel I can teach him the volta, and he could teach you. Just for fun.” There were pearls in her ears, and they caught the light when she looked up at Lucifer. “He’s very taken with you.”
"I assume you mean the dance, and not the poetry." It wasn't so strange a thought for the younger boy to teach him something -- even if he was taught by a peer.
She was a lovely girl, even with the glaring scar across her neck that left him vaguely curious. "I might have guessed," he agreed with the most subtle of nods. "Is this the part where you warn me to behave and promise not to hurt him?"
“The dance, of course.” Abigail waltzed easily with Lucifer, her hands soft. She smelled like fleece and pomegranate and musk, and a bit like her father since she’d been with him moments before she’d left for the club. “If he writes you poems, that’s on him. I’m not much with words.”
Abigail smiled brightly when Lucifer stepped differently, leading her in another dance. “You might hurt him accidentally. The relationship might end, or you might step on his foot, or he might just like being tied up and spanked. Just ... Just don’t do it on purpose. He might be an angel, Lucifer, and you might have been one once, but I wouldn’t think twice before shooting you in the head for making him cry without cause. Whatever you do, just don’t be malicious with his heart.” Abigail spoke while dancing, never missing a step. “Don’t think my threats are idle, either. I’d die a thousand times over for Samandriel. He’s one of the few good people I know.”
Finding himself mildly amused over her words, Lucifer only listened. It wasn't hard to stay in time with the music, these dances were old and ingrained in him enough where paying attention wasn't all that necessary.
There was something generally amusing about an underaged girl threatening to shoot him, he, who would some day (very likely) become the very ruler of hell. An angel who was equal to no one and only a step below god himself. He wouldn't argue with that, or the validity of her threat. Just because it might be useless didn't make it any less valid. And in any case, he had to respect her view point.
Of course, he didn't have to be agreeable with her -- she was just a young thing. But there was no reason not to be, particularly if she was Samandriel's friend. So he smiled, charming, coy. "Abigail. It is Abigail, isn't it?" He went on before she could respond. He knew he wasn't wrong anyway. "My intentions might involve cruelty, but I can assure you that only includes the kind he wants and the kind he doesn't yet know he wants. I do not choose partners lightly, particularly ones that -- as you well know -- might not be the wisest of pickings. Being malicious isn't something I'm interested in."
She rolled her eyes. She hated when men tried to ingratiate themselves to her. “Look, I know you want to make him yours. Collar him. Keep him chained. You know what I mean, and you know that I’m serious. Even if you’re immortal, I bet you still bleed.”
He laughed at that, not at her but at how terribly blunt she was. Sometimes he forgot that teenagers just did that, all opinion and attitude and just dying to make everything known. Lucifer preferred subtlety, but could respect it anyway.
"Yes, I believe I just said that," he pointed out. "I'm serious, as well. I have no intention of hurting our young man, I'm rather fond of him, you see."
“Oh, good.” Abigail grinned. “I actually think you could be good for him. Did you know he actually talked about sex with me the other day?” Abigail giggled, shaking her head. “He’s not nearly as brash as I am, but obviously, you know that. I’d honestly thought he was asexual for a long time. You’re the first person he’s shown interest in.” She cocked her head to the side. “Do you have wine here, Lucifer? Gin’s nice and all, but I’m in the mood for a chianti.”
And just like that, she was back to friendly. It was, of course, at this point that Lucifer decided he very much liked this girl. He'd be certain to tell both her and Samandriel so.
"What sort of poor establishment would this be if I didn't have a proper wine list?" He murmured, leading her away from the dance floor and back toward the bar. "And that's a flattering bit of information. It's all for the best, of course, I'd hate to have to go find past love interests to glare at."
“You’re literally the first person he’s ever wanted,” she smiled, walking with him back to the bar. She selected a chianti that she knew well, smiling up at Lucifer. “Daddy made braised pork belly with figs for dinner, this pairs well. Even though I finished eating, I should honor the meal still, yeah?” Whenever she spoke of her father, her neck flushed.
She thought of her friend and smiled. “I’ve known him for a long while, and he’s more like family. I really don’t want you to see me as an obstacle, or someone to placate. Your relationship with him shouldn’t affect my friendship with him. And trust me, I understand the pain of having to sneak around. I’m the one who got him in here, you know.” She’d worked with one of her father’s ex-patients to get them both fake IDs.
"It sounds delightful. Your father seems to have raised you quite properly." Death threats aside. Everyone had their faults, right? He waved off the charge on her drink, looking bored with the bartender.
He had wondered about that -- but not so much as to ask. Sometimes a little mystery was nice. "He could have called ahead without needing to lie," he pointed out, picking his martini back up, but not drinking. "You could have also," he noted. Lucifer spoke with his back to the bar, and head tilted down closer to her. This was his bar, but it didn't mean the topics should be overheard by anyone.
“You should know better than anyone but maybe me, Lucifer. Sometimes the taboo is half the fun.” She looked up at him as she sipped her wine, smiling up at him. Her father would’ve enjoyed this man’s company. “I know I said it but I’m really glad you’re with him. You’re kind of fantastic.”
He cocked his head to the side and grinned. "You aren't wrong," he agreed. Lucifer was keenly aware of his own curiosity. What was this girls' taboo? He wouldn't ask outright, but was certain that in time he might find out.
"I appreciate that, and I'll attempt not to disappoint that opinion of yours. Do the two of you go to school together?"
She smiled up at him, her blue eyes all the more blue because of her eyeliner. “We do. We’re both in all AP classes, so we met there ages ago. We’ve always been in the same advanced classes. He was really sweet to me when my parents died, too. ... my daddy now adopted me when I was fourteen.” Abigail swished her wine, inhaled its bouquet, then sipped.
Of course they were AP students. Samandriel got straight A's, Lucifer knew. He didn't tolerate stupidity and had known from the start that the little angel was clever among other things.
"Samandriel is Good." Was all he could say on the topic. It was an obvious thing, the kind of thing that hardly needed to be spoken. "You get on well with your adoptive father," he observed.
“Samandriel is a saint,” Abigail smiled. Samandriel would likely be valedictorian. Abigail would be in the top ten percent, and that was enough for her. Smart enough to be considered smart, but not too smart. She liked to blend in.
Raising a brow, she smiled at Lucifer. “I do. He’s a good man. He didn’t have to take me in, he was only my father’s best friend. We’re not related at all, but it was either that or me going to the state.” Her grandparents on both sides were dead, and her aunts and uncles had all declined.
Lucifer nodded at that, sipping his drink lazily. He didn't actually drink too often when he was here -- it would become very old very fast if he did, considering he was here five or six nights a week.
"That's kind of him. Perhaps you should bring him with you some time. I realize that lowers the levels of sneakiness, however."
She chuckled at that. “Oh, only for one thing. He’d be happy with your wine list, though. Did you hire a sommelier, or did you put it together yourself? He’s kind of a renaissance man. Ex-surgeon, psychiatrist now. He picked this dress out for me to celebrate getting into UCI.” Just talking about him made her think of how they’d almost knocked over the kitchen table earlier in the night.
"I hired several people to help build a proper menu," he wasn't ashamed to admit it. He might have been raised with some class, but even with interest, it hardly made him an expert. Her father did sound interesting -- about as interesting as her obvious fondness for the man. Only for one thing, she'd said. He only smiled, curious and bemused, but not quite firm enough in his assumptions. "And the dress is lovely. Now if we could only get Samandriel to dress so smartly."
Oh, did he have plans for that.
“He’d love you to show him, I think. He’s one of those people who has no idea how handsome he is.” Abigail smiled to herself at the idea of Samandriel in a suit. “Did you like the tie he wore last time? I thought it brought out his eyes.”
"I'll admit to having been a bit distracted," Lucifer admitted, leaning against the bar more easily and letting his eyes drift over the crowd. "But I certainly don't remember having any complaints about it, either." The suit was cheap, but Samandriel had done his best and could not be faulted for that.
“Well, like I said, I’m glad you met him, and that you two get on.” Abigail leaned closer to Lucifer to tell him so, and when she did, her dress moved a bit, exposing bitemarks on her neck. “He needs someone like you. What’s the saying? We need people with strengths to shore up our weaknesses?”
Abigail wore those marks just as well she did that scar on her neck. Lucifer did not think for a moment that it was accidental; she seemed too clever for all that.
"It's something like that," he agreed of the saying, and gave a slight nod of thanks. He was pleased he met the little angel, too, after all. "It's a good match. Taboo and all."
“It makes sense.” She smiled and thanked the bartender when her wine glass was refilled. She knew she shouldn’t drink anything beyond that glass, since she had to drive home eventually. “Do you come every night? You don’t have to, I think this place could run itself.”
Lucifer would probably offer to drive her home. It only seemed natural, not only because she was the best friend of his lover, but also because she was underaged and you didn't let combinations of that and driving happen if you were a responsible adult. Lucifer? Totally responsible. When he wanted to be.
"Most nights. And yes, it probably could. It does have a house manager. I'm afraid I can't be bothered with schedule writing or the other banalities of paperwork in that regard. But I do like being here." Of course, he could find other ways to spend his nights these days. That went unsaid.
That was Abigail’s point. She nodded, accepting his answer. “He’s really happy.” It bore repeating. “I’m just glad you don’t own a bar with club music.” Abigail wrinkled her nose in disdain.
"He deserves to be happy. He seems lucky to have you as well. He seems -- lonely sometimes."
Lucifer mirrored that expression perfectly, nearly offended at the mere mention of that music. "There will be no grinding to the sound of breaking subwoofers in this establishment." It was a horrifying thought, actually.
“Grinding should be done to arias,” she nodded. “Anything Italian, really.”
"Arietta and volta. My, but aren't you educated?" Yes, he definitely liked her.
Abigail didn’t even lean against the bar. She stood, which was proper. Leaning wasn’t for ladies. “And I’m good with a hunting rifle. Woman of many talents. Granted, the gun thing is from my dreams.”
"Might actually be handy in a city like ours, though." What with all that weird. Lucifer stayed out of that nonsense though. He had a bar to run and people to frown at. No time for body swaps or talking dogs.
"And what do you dream about?"
“It did last time, I sniped from the attic window.” Abigail smiled and looked up at Lucifer. “Being raped by my biological father who’s a serial killer. I help him find girls so he’ll leave me alone. Then he tries to kill me.” She tapped the scar. No sense in pussyfooting around her dreams; they were shit, and she was sick of pretending that they weren’t. “Daddy saves me in them.”
Well, she definitely didn't dream about being an angel, anyway. Lucifer rose an eyebrow and let that one sink in for a moment. "Well, you certainly were dealt a poor hand." Still, he eyed the scar thoughtfully, considering the fact that she didn't try hiding it.
“I lived through it. The next person that tried to hurt me, I disemboweled him.” Abigail sipped the remainder of her wine, pushing the empty glass toward the bartender. “If my bio dad in the dreams had had his way, he’d have killed me. It could’ve been worse. It can always be worse. Daddy says to wear my scars proudly, they mean I’m alive.” She smiled when she spoke of her father, and spoke of him the way most people spoke about their favorite food, somewhat longingly.
Which really only confirmed Lucifer's suspicions completely. He had a feeling that Abigail might have been making it easy on him, like they had something in common now and secrets like these weren't the easiest to hold inside forever. Not when you could tell someone who wouldn't judge you.
"You're right for loving your father," he said, simple and easy.
“And you haven’t even seen him. He’s ... breathtaking, really,” she smiled. “I’ve wanted him since my biological father introduced us. I think I was ten or eleven, and I thought ‘oh, that’s why people want to have sex’.” She smiled, looking at Lucifer. “So you know why your secret’s safe with me. Samandriel has longer to go until you two can stop being taboo, I’m older than he is, but even so. I wouldn’t.”
"I might like to meet him some day. You don't seem the type to so easily give your affections. Clearly he deserves them." Lucifer finished his drink as well, settling it on the bar and refusing another.
"I appreciate that, Abigail. And I'm certain Samandriel does as well. Obviously the favor will be reciprocated appropriately."
“Daddy would enjoy your company. You’re polite, and you’re well bred.” Abigail shrugged. “Maybe he’ll throw a dinner party for the four of us. He makes a foie de veau that’s worth dying for.” She had assumed that Lucifer wouldn’t tattle, hence her telling. She was betting on him being the sort of man who kept his promises, too.
She wondered if Lucifer would be the sort to do something silly like collar Samandriel. Abigail didn’t need one; her father liked her spirited, unbroken, equal parts combatant and victor. Besides, her scar marked her as Hannibal’s. He’d saved her from having an even longer one.
“His parents are hardly ever home. You could visit him there sometimes.” She couldn’t help but feel like she had to help her best friend out. They all loved taboos, right?
Lucifer wasn't much for stereotypes, and had no interest in collaring Samandriel. If the boy wanted it, perhaps that might change -- but he was very much interested in free will, and always gave options and choices, what was fun about ruling over someone who didn't care to form their own opinions or arguments? He may as well just have a doormat.
"I'd be delighted were that the case," he said of the dinner party. "And I might. It's all rather fresh yet, but I can see the appeal to that." So long as he didn't have nosy neighbors.
“His bedroom’s very ... him.” Abigail smiled, shrugging a little to herself. “You know what I mean. He’s like someone distilled a sunrise.”
With that description, Lucifer wasn't sure he could imagine a bedroom at all. "He does have a bit of a glow to him," he conceded instead. Which was true, because it was what had caught his eye in the first place. Certainly, it hadn't been the siren call of mall smoothies.
“Has he told you what he dreams? It made so much sense, I haven’t questioned it.” She wasn’t the sort to question people’s dreams anyway. The scar had changed that for her.
"He has. I haven't had any strange dreams, myself, but it was impossible to question. It suits him, that sort of beauty." Lucifer said it fondly, easily, as if he truly believed it. And look, if you weren't sure you didn't want to stab him before Abigail, now was definitely the time to realize it for certain.
Abigail smiled. “He’s easy to love. I hope you’re ready.” She took out her cell phone from her clutch. “I should get home, though, Daddy and I were going to make semifreddos for tomorrow dinner. Here.” She pulled out a scrap of paper and jotted down her number. “In case you want to go out for drinks sometime.”
The number was taken easily, and Lucifer settled it into his wallet before pulling out his own card to Abigail. In case. Something. He didn't say what.
"Are you alright to drive?"
She tucked it into her wallet, snapping up her clutch. “I’m fine, but you’re a gentleman. Really, I haven’t had that much.” She smiled, offering him her hand to shake. “It’s been lovely meeting you, truly. You’ll have to vouch to Samandriel that I didn’t punch you.”
"And I'd so been considering claiming abuse," Lucifer said wryly, but shook her hand. He was, in fact, quite a gentleman, thanks. "It was lovely meeting you, Abigail. Thank you for only threatening to murder me. Drive safely."
He watched until she was gone, bemused. Samandriel was making things interesting for him even in his absence.