Lucifer: *sat opposite, tapping his claws together* You understand why I've summoned you.
Kitty: Because I'm your favorite little plaything?
Lucifer: I'm just gunna cut to the chase--
Kitty: Good. I can get back to my job.
Lucifer: About that. Tony said you were on Torture Analysis.
Kitty: He did. Until--
Lucifer: You fried his brains.
Kitty: *shrugs* I just killed him until he died from it. Pretty shit Shogo if you ask me.
Lucifer: *drums his fingernails upon the stack of damage reports* It's my understanding that you two had a personal dispute?
Kitty: I wont deny that *sparks herself up a joint loaded heavily with some of Hell's Finest Grass* He was being a total dick.
Lucifer: Then there's your output lately. You selected a rather... Odd method.
Kitty: I think you seriously underestimate the impact that culture has on the squishy mortals.
Lucifer: I could understand Mein Kampf. Or the Communist Manifesto. Or any book by Snooki. But The Mister? Stones to... What?
Kitty: *clamping her paws over her ears, snarling* Cunt... Fuckin'... You have no idea how much those festering piles of wankbank offend me.
Lucifer: Oh, I do.
Kitty: *her ears flatten as she regards him with a skeptical look* Really?
Lucifer: I've read your comprehensive "data" enough times to get the impression that you dislike it.
Kitty: Which is why you keep doing it.
Lucifer: Well...
Kitty: Cuz you're a sadistic jackass that seems to find my pain amusing.
Lucifer: It's not like you've got much else going for ya, Kitten.
Kitty: I don't care. I would rather dry hump a cactus that has contracted herpes than read that twaddle.
Lucifer: *smirks* Which is wh--
Kitty: I would rather drink honeyed piss out've a hornets nest than endure another soppy tween angst novel.
Lucifer: That's no--
Kitty: I would rather skullfuck myself with a brain-sucking leech than listen to another poorly constructed simile.
Lucifer: D'you mea--
Kitty: I would rather hammer nine inch long spikes up my urethra until my nether regions resemble an SM wedding bouquet. Than read anymore of this shitty wank, which is about as stimulating to me as a dildo made out of anthrax.
Lucifer: I--
Kitty: Seriously. I can only really describe this drivel as what you'd get if someone ejaculated directly into a word doc.
Lucifer: Enough!
Kitty: *pacified*
Lucifer: If you'll recall, I allowed you to deploy one of our Agents prematurely in order to provide assistance.
Kitty: Yeah. And you gave me some Johnny Bravo imperssonator with a British accent and an ego big enough to rival yours.
Lucifer: You were the one snooping through his files. And you left a lovely note, which read; "he's very good at choking."
Kitty: *dreamily* Indeed he is.
Lucifer: Yeah. And how do you know that? I did not give a lowly Imp--
Kitty: Djinn.
Lucifer: Whatever. I did not give you clearance to enter his cell. Much less his files.
Kitty: What can I say, some of us know how to network.
Lucifer: *scowls, his face twisting into an irrate expression similar to a bulldog chewing on a wasp* Is that what you call turning your grandmother into stone?
Kitty: Adopted grandmother. And that's only on a purely technical level! Not my fault big Daddy Reaper likes to stick his dick in crazy.
Lucifer: So what? That was just personal, too?
Kitty: C'mon, Red. You've known me since the Great Fall...
Lucifer: And?
Kitty: If I hold a grudge, it's not for very long. So I make do.
Lucifer: Right. And you decided that the best way to impress me would involve a planet-destroying psychopath, an emaciated drug addict and a dickless dick?
Kitty: Don't forget the witch doctor and the cyborg.
Lucifer: And who is this? *peering over the Guest Logbook as he readjusts his reading glasses on his crooked nose* The Rube, Goldberg MacGuffin Personal Independent Conflict Resolutions Specialists? *hands her the Guest List*
Kitty: Oh, those dickheads are Neo and Onslaught.
Lucifer: Why do they request payment in cheese and marbles?
Kitty: I 'unnno.
Lucifer: And whilst we're on the topic, have you been sleeping in the Armoury again?
Kitty: *flicks ash off her joint* It's comfy in there. Quiet.
Lucifer: You realize that we're missing an artifact.
Kitty: Yeah, the Philosopher's Stone? Onslaught needed it.
Lucifer: An anonymous source has informed me that he recently raided Fort Knox so he could convert gold into lead!
Kitty: *waves her paw dismissively as she relights her joint* He needed to make more bullets. Besides, if you've got beef with that pain in my ass, go take it up with him.
Lucifer: Watch yourself, Kitten.
Kitty: *glares, tail twitching*
Lucifer: You'd better not be concocting another escape plan...
Kitty: Why? Maybe don't put me on shit babysitting jobs then I wont have time to plot and scheme.
Lucifer: No more Agents. And stay away from that witch doctor.
Kitty: I try but he's still making moon eyes at me.
Lucifer: *rolls his eyes* Have you tried not fucking everything with a pulse?
Kitty: You realize he's a Ghoul, right? Technically he doesn't even have bloodflow anymore. He's lacking more things than just a pulse.
Lucifer: Is that what killed the romance?
Kitty: Impotence hasn't stopped me before. Much better once the rigor mortis has set in.
Lucifer: Oh yeah. I forgot I was talking to a graverobber.
Kitty: Bite me.
Lucifer: Don't tempt me, you infantile brat.
Kitty: D'you remember why you hired me, Morning Star?
Lucifer: ...
Kitty: Slaughtered more angels than any of your miserable campaigns ever did. And I'd only just been born. You had to search long and hard for a warrior that could even compete.
Lucifer: Yeah, yeah, and you zapped the cunt as soon as you got your claws on him.
Kitty: Indeed *purrs* And I'm keeping Bravo. He's damn hot when he's angry.
Lucifer: He would've made a priceless addition to our gay district...
Kitty: Shame. I'm pretty sure he's saving his hide for a good little femboy. But then, he keeps trying to convince me that he's straight by trying to get on top. It's cute.
Lucifer: Once again, spare me the details.
Kitty: Sheit. Since Grandpa died I can't share any of the details of my non-existent sex life.
Lucifer: *sneers* Frustrating, huh?
Kitty: Aye. I expect I'll be in season within the next five months so... That's gunna suck.
Lucifer: Didn't the witch doctor learn from last time?
Kitty: You'd think.
Lucifer: I forget, who was it you furrsploded last time? Germany? Japan? Ireland?
Kitty: *shrugs* I don't think you realize how drunk I was.
Lucifer: As I recall you drank that cider farm into bankrupcy.
Kitty: Yeah, that was predrinks... Still dunno how I was with it enough to summon portals after that, but whatever. Can I go now?
Lucifer: Hang on. I haven't even began the list of pett--
Kitty: Don't care.
Lucifer: I figured that, smartass.
Kitty: *sickeningly sweet smile*
Lucifer: *sighs, rubbing his eyes* Why are you obsessed with this bullshit?
Kitty: As I have made it quite clear, I would rather be doing a bunch of other things, yet you insist I find thee worst torture methods. Make no mistake. These tangled mess of fewmets are truly atrocious.
Lucifer: Yeah. To your kind. Not everyone values intellect as you do.
Kitty: *quirks a brow* I value other things, too. Like penis size.
Lucifer: Right...
Kitty: And palm thickness... *purrs* Bravo plus tequilla and heavy metal is my idea of a good night.
Lucifer: Noted. Now fuck off, outta my sight.
Kitty: Gladly, ya softshelled prick.