Voice
[Fabric rustles. Hangers clack together. Willow makes a thoughtful sound.]
You know, Lucifer, there's a lot of clothes in this place. ...Including one baggy, off-the-shoulder sweater and some hot pink leggings. Got any oversize plastic jewelry? Maybe a big old cross I can stick through my ear? Just, you know, wondering. Never too early to plan for Halloween, right?
Okay, maybe kind of early, but there's not a lot of excuse to wear this sort of crap. And looking forward to stuff is good, right? If maybe a little pathetic.
[She clears her throat.]
Like, for example, looking forward to being able to fib now and then? Just a little. And there's nothing really better to plan for. Or anything... Not really.
Assuming I can wear the stupid leggings. That was way too much cake, yesterday. Owen, man, you sure can pack it away. Worse than Naoise. Not by much, but still worse. I mean, yeah, there's always more room for the big icing flowers but still. You deserve some kind of medal.
Something for Outstanding Performance in Cake Eating. Something.
[She falls quiet. There's the click of high heeled shoes on the floor. The next few words are muttered more to herself than the communicator.]
Oh, these boots so kick ass. And I would still break my neck in them. Dammit.
[Her attention seems to return belatedly to the communicator.]
Thought I was going to say something else. Maybe not. Can't really remember. But, uh, anyone want to see a movie? Or maybe go for a walk. Something? Something not inside the Lux, please? Anything? Anything not creeper-y, that is.
You know, Lucifer, there's a lot of clothes in this place. ...Including one baggy, off-the-shoulder sweater and some hot pink leggings. Got any oversize plastic jewelry? Maybe a big old cross I can stick through my ear? Just, you know, wondering. Never too early to plan for Halloween, right?
Okay, maybe kind of early, but there's not a lot of excuse to wear this sort of crap. And looking forward to stuff is good, right? If maybe a little pathetic.
[She clears her throat.]
Like, for example, looking forward to being able to fib now and then? Just a little. And there's nothing really better to plan for. Or anything... Not really.
Assuming I can wear the stupid leggings. That was way too much cake, yesterday. Owen, man, you sure can pack it away. Worse than Naoise. Not by much, but still worse. I mean, yeah, there's always more room for the big icing flowers but still. You deserve some kind of medal.
Something for Outstanding Performance in Cake Eating. Something.
[She falls quiet. There's the click of high heeled shoes on the floor. The next few words are muttered more to herself than the communicator.]
Oh, these boots so kick ass. And I would still break my neck in them. Dammit.
[Her attention seems to return belatedly to the communicator.]
Thought I was going to say something else. Maybe not. Can't really remember. But, uh, anyone want to see a movie? Or maybe go for a walk. Something? Something not inside the Lux, please? Anything? Anything not creeper-y, that is.