What It's All About
It hadn't taken long to realize Delilah's financials weren't telling her anything relevant or new. The sun was getting low in the sky and Lucifer, ever the irritating, if clever, gentleman, had given her an invitation she saw no reason to decline.
"If you're dead set against a more active pick-me-up, Detective, a more passive one – say, a drink? – is in order, I think. On the house," Lucifer offered graciously.
"Yeah. Okay... sure," Chloe said, half smiling and getting her coat, relatively certain he wasn't stupid enough to roofie a police officer. She wasn't likely get any more out of him while sitting here anyway. If he was allowed to be on his own turf and more comfortable, his lips might loosen a bit regarding his own activities...
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Chloe, laughing, took a sip from the glass Lucifer had offered her. It was tequila but it was dangerously well made – and probably insanely expensive. Beyond than top shelf expensive. Keep-it-out-of sight-under-lock-and-key expensive. You could send it down the hatch like water. Lucifer's laughter died down and he asked, "In all seriousness, Detective. You went from an industry where you could've made truckloads of money with your considerable assets, mental and physical. And you chose to become a police officer instead. I don't get it. You had it made and just threw it all away. Do you know how many people have literally sold their soul to the Devil to have what you threw away like trash? Why?" he asked, resting one elbow on the counter and latching his fingers together in front of him.
Decker frowned, swiveling the stool his way to face him head on. "The really interesting question, Lucifer, is why is it such a novel concept to you that it's possible for someone to value something more than ridiculous amounts of money and fame?"
One corner of his lips turned up and she heard his initial laugh while the rest stayed in, despite his chest and shoulders moving as if he were still laughing. "It's quite simple, really. Because I'm always being asked for it, in one way or another. Without exception," Lucifer stated, matter-of-fact. "I'm beginning to wonder if you humans even think about anything else. Actually, let me correct myself. Money, sex, then fame – in that order – seem to be the things you're most willing to give up your grubby little souls for. Not that I even want them. I've seen enough of humanity's filthiest souls to last me an eternity."
In light of how he thrived in the seedy underbelly of L.A., she had no doubt he had. Shaking her head, Chloe retorted, "As much as men like to think they are, I have news for you – you aren't actually from another planet. You're not the Devil, either... Maybe that's why you can't understand me. No one has any hope of understanding someone they believe they have nothing in common with."
"All right, Detective, if I'm not the Devil, then how do you propose to explain what I'm able to do?" he asked, mischievously, expecting theories even more outlandish than the one he was offering up.
"I–"
"I can promise you: you never would have obtained any useful answers from those professional liars unless I was there. I just have to be nearby and it makes you all a great deal more honest. All except for you..." Lucifer mused, intrigued.
Chloe sighed in frustration. She quickly rubbed her fingers over her temple. "Do you have any idea how many mentalists use the same tricks? Asking leading questions, picking up subtle cues almost no one else sees? Then they capitalize on them. That's all what you can do makes you, Lucifer. At best. Whatever you are – a method actor, someone with very deep-seated issues... or a very rich, very eccentric individual who fancies himself the Devil – you're human. And nothing you've shown me yet has convinced me otherwise," she said, forcefully meeting and holding his gaze even after her last word had passed her lips.
"Very well, then, Detective! Ask me anything. What would it take to convince you?" Lucifer asked, genuinely ready to give her any answer she desired.
"Turn red from head to foot and sprout wings and horns - if you can," Chloe demanded.
Lucifer gave his head one shake to the side. "Mmn nnh. See, that I can't do."
Rolling her eyes and giving her head a quick shake, she shot back, "Of course, you can't."
"Oh no. I physically can," he replied, waving her doubts aside with one hand. "It's just that anyone who sees that version of me... well, most outright lose their minds. The rest tend to cower, terrified and run away screaming or they expire where they stand. You've seen what happened to Delilah's killer..."
"Wait, what do you mean?" Chloe asked, suddenly on high alert. No one outside the department knew how Eddie Deacon had met his maker.
"He didn't die from wounds suffered in the crash, did he?" Lucifer asked coyly. He laughed momentarily. She had an atrocious poker face, if she possessed one at all.
"No. He didn't. He died of a heart attack. Who told you that?" she asked, visibly ill-at-ease and suddenly very concerned there was a connection to him in the department.
"You did, just now. That Detective, is something I genuinely do not want to risk doing to you," he said, leaning in closer.
"That's... thoughtful of you," Chloe replied, electing to allow him a little closer than he had been the entire time they sat at the bar.
It took mere moments for her to regret the decision when he quipped, "I prefer my sexual partners sane. Insanity introduces some dangerously unpredictable behaviour into the equation. When teeth have unfettered access to my most sensitive areas... well, let's just say I learned that lesson the hard way once. And believe me, once is all it took for it to stick."
"You slept with a psych patient?" Chloe asked, disbelieving.
"Of course not! Those poor souls spend enough time on Earth torturing themselves. No help from me required. She hadn't been committed yet and I didn't realize it in time. Lost a good couple inches for it." Lucifer recalled, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.
Chloe nearly spit out her sip of tequila. "She bit off a piece of you?!" she asked in sheer disbelief.
Lucifer didn't seem affected by it in the slightest. "Don't worry, Detective. It grows right back, good as new," he replied seductively, wearing half a playful grin.
"And you never reported her to the police? She probably needed help–" Chloe admonished before being cut off.
"It was centuries ago, Detective. Law enforcement then... wasn't what it is today. It was kinder to leave her be." Lucifer said, wistful. Chloe was certain there was an undercurrent of sadness or regret in his voice. Just when he couldn't seem more insensitive, there it was – a moment of genuine concern for someone other than himself. As if it was trying to be seen but was afraid to show itself for too long.
"Riiight," Chloe replied, one eyebrow up skeptically. Why would he to put this kind of detail into a farce? Chloe wondered, at something of a loss.
Still amused by her skepticism, Lucifer refused to let his question of her career choice be dropped. "You still haven't answered my question: why'd you do it?"
"Quit acting and become a police officer?" she clarified.
Nodding, Lucifer pointed a finger her way as he outlined the conditions under which he wanted to hear her answer. "Yes. And don't lie. There's little if nothing else I despise more than a liar."
Chloe took in an uneasy breath. She didn't feel like laying out her life's story for him but there was enough she could say without being dishonest. She found herself surprised that she cared about being honest with him at all. "All right. I've always had a knack for... understanding people. Getting at the genuine reasons why... people do what they do. My father was a cop and one day, I got the idea in my head that I could use what I was capable of to help people, rather than profit off of them. Never looked back."
Lucifer scoffed. "I still don't see how you could choose the one over the other. It's a thankless task, having to deal with the dregs of humanity, day in, day out, without reprieve. Watching the doomed to suffer under the weight of their own guilt and inadequacies until the day they can't run from it anymore." Taking a sip from his drink he continued looking down at it long after he had swallowed it down.
Frowning, Chloe responded, "That's not all there is to it, Lucifer."
"Right. Of course. I forgot about punishing the guilty. I happened to like that bit of ruling Hell. Nothing quite like a good serving of just desserts," Lucifer said, suddenly wearing a charming little boy's smile, as he fondly recollected some of his torturous exploits. On that they could agree.
Laughing and plainly wearing her fascination on her face, she refused to be deterred or distracted from sanding the edges off of his cynicism. The further along the train of thought she went the more she seemed to be looking at her own reflection in the mirror behind the counter. The expression on her face showed her to be elsewhere entirely. Lucifer's gaze slowly turned her way and fixated on her as if being drawn by a magnetic force he either couldn't or didn't want to fight. "Okay, sure, I stand face to face with some of the worst evils humanity is capable of more often than anyone else I know... but there's also the scared kid, growing up in a bad neighbourhood, who has no idea life can be anything other than what it is. That kid gets a warning and some community service as a sentence and it scares them straight. Makes them want to do better by themselves and others. It's the domestic violence victim who finally makes the call that saves his or her life and gets them out of there for good. People with mental problems who'd hurt themselves or someone else if we didn't direct them and their families toward help. Homeless drifters who have no idea where to go to get a warm meal or find a roof to go over their head in a city this size. Education that inmates can get in prison to try and rejoin society. People who've assaulted or murdered someone to save a person they love, but still have to pay the price. We see more cases like that daily, than we do senseless murders in an entire year," Chloe said, hardly stopping to breathe. She did so now and took a long sip of the drink embraced in her hands. "Being a police officer is about believing in redemption, more than anything else. Believing that anyone who genuinely wants it, deserves it... at least it is for me." Lucifer hadn't taken his eyes off of her the entire time she was speaking. He watched as more and more water came into her eyes when she thought up every new, unfortunate example. By the time she'd finished he felt, quite simply, as if a burning feeling he couldn't define had punched a hole straight through the centre of his chest and made itself at home there. Chloe laughed subtly when she looked back to him, seeing the look on his face.
"Honest enough for you?" she asked playfully.
"Yes, Detective. And thank you for that," he said. Suddenly very aware of how vulnerable he felt, he sidestepped the feeling and brought his guard back up. "It's a comfort to know someone as forthright as you will be looking into me. I don't have to worry about being strung up publicly for something I haven't done," Lucifer said, holding up his glass for an appreciative toast. Chloe smiled warmly as she obliged him, gently bringing their glasses together. As she set her glass down on the bar the news story running on the television behind the bar vied for her attention. "You do, however, have my express permission to string me up in private. I'm always game for helping someone expand their horizons."
Chloe laughed in spite of herself and rolled her eyes, thinking; What on God's green Earth am I doing here, with this guy, when I have a murder to be solving?
"Hm. Too bad your little protégé isn't around to collect the cheque," Maze quipped, having turned up the volume on the television. Chloe frowned, now listening intently to the news story.
"The soundtrack album for the movie Time Will Tell has hit number 15 on the Billboard Top 100 and is still climbing. The album's sales are expected to reach Platinum status before the end of the week, topping forty million dollars in worldwide..." Chloe's eyes went wide as the thought occurred to her. An angry twitch contorted her comprehending expression for a moment and Lucifer saw it.
"Fuck me..." Chloe breathed. Lucifer perked up before the second word had even left her lips.
"If you insist. As restrained as you might be, my dear, you certainly know how to keep a Devil on his toes," he said. Rising from his stool, wearing an enthused smile and beginning to unbutton his shirt, he fully intended to escort her into one of the curtained booths that lined the sides of the club and ensure that she never forgot what she was about to experience so long as she lived and breathed. She completely ignored his movements, her gaze remaining fixed on the television as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place in her mind.
"What is it?" Lucifer asked, leaning closer and resting a hand on the bar in front of her, the other braced against the back of her bar stool.
Chloe smiled, laughing as she turned to see him partially unbuttoned and flushing at the cheeks and the ears. She pulled the sides two sides of his shirt back together and with a quick pat on his chest, gave him back the modesty he'd shed. "It was a figure of speech and I've got a murderer to arrest. Thank you – for the drink... and I believe this makes us even. I'll be in touch, Mr. Morningstar." She wasn't more than a few steps away before he was right on her heels. Chloe turned and stopped him, the two nearly colliding. "This is a police matter. Your involvement ended with Grey Cooper. If I have to repeat myself... frankly, as charming as you are, I'm nearly at the end of my rope. I really will shoot you this time," she said, one hand up, nearly touching his chest.
"Detective, you said it yourself, no one wants to work with you and I'm certainly available," Lucifer said, gesturing to an empty club. "That aside, I owe it to Delilah to see her murderer arrested and punished."
Chloe frowned. Despite his aloof and distant nature, he truly seemed invested in getting justice for Delilah and not just as a result of feeling responsible for her fate... "Given your usual motivations for interacting with people, why do you actually care about getting justice for her?" Chloe asked critically, hand on her hips.
There was a weight and darkness to his answer that genuinely unnerved her. "Because while whomever it is walks free, there exists an imbalance that needs correcting." She was taken aback for a moment by the ardent fervor with which he said it. She dismissed what she'd seen, chalking it up to something in the ambient light of the club. For an instant she though she'd seen a dim reddish light catch fire in his eyes.
As odd as the assertion sounded, he wasn't wrong. When the uneasy feeling passed, she couldn't help her brief laughter. Chloe let out an irritated sigh. "All right, Lucifer," Chloe began, leaning sarcastically on his name. "I'll make you a deal. If you can tell me what I just figured out, you can ride along."
"You're following the money, Detective. To the only living person who stands to personally benefit from the ballooning sales of those albums. Everyone else was paid a fixed salary for their involvement in its production," Lucifer replied, hitting the mark squarely.
Chloe's look of surprise was momentary before her poker face regained control. Nodding and subtly smiling, she replied, "All right. A deal's a deal. Let's go."
"And she's a woman of her word. Very nice!" Lucifer exclaimed, eyeing her up and down appreciatively as she straightened her jacket and buttoned it, turning to leave.
Once again, Chloe found herself casting an irritated glance heavenward as she headed for Lux's exit.
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