Ozzie hasn't visited Earth in at least three decades and hasn't been in Static since Lucifer's house was built centuries ago. The Lust Ring is more than enough for him; the perfect temperature, the sky caught in perpetual twilight, and a whole host of souls to watch over. Needless to say, he doesn't appreciate the Louisiana humidity.
"Babe, this place sucks," Fizzarolli whines. "Couldn't we just comfort Stolas over FaceTime?"
"I know Static is less than pleasant, but we can't do that to the poor guy." That doesn't stop Ozzie from shucking his suit jacket, using his magic to send it back to his penthouse. He forgot how oppressive the heat could be here, how it makes his feathers wilt.
"Then let's comfort him quickly." Fizzarolli takes Ozzie's hand and practically drags him into Stolas' manor, waving off an Imp in the entry hall. It's not hard to find the little prince, there's music drifting in through a pair of open French doors that lead out to a nice deck.
Stolas is lounging by a pool, long legs stretched out and parted so that another Imp could rest between them. There's no hint of debauchery, just a comfortable closeness as Stolas reads and the Imp draws something with his forked tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. It would be adorable if it weren't for the aborted snort Fizzarolli lets out.
"Comfy over there, Blitzø?" Blitzø's head snaps up right as the pencil in his hand snaps in half, jaw dropped open. Stolas lowers his book, then sits up abruptly when he sees who's dropped by to visit, knocking poor Blitzø to the ground in his haste.
"Ozzie," Stolas squawks. "I wasn't expecting you."
"Obviously," Ozzie drawls. He watches on in amusement as Stolas stands up, brushing down his feathers and then helping Blitzø off the ground. "Is this a bad time?"
"Not at all! Please, join us!" He gestures at a wicker loveseat, waiting until his guests have settled to sit again himself. Stolas has always been polite to the extreme, too scared to offend the royalty he'd grown up amongst. Ozzie remembers when the owlet had been a toddler, when he hid behind his father's cape until Ozzie had magicked up a lollipop. He'd spent the rest of that visit atop Ozzie's shoulders, sharing whispers and giggles. Ozzie misses that boy. "What brings you to Static?"
"I wanted to see how you were doing. We heard about the divorce."
"Ah, I see. That's very kind of you, but I'm doing quite well." Stolas clears his throat, shifting nervously in his seat. Beside him, Blitzø has picked up his pencil and taken to drawing again. Ozzie can't quite see the full picture, but he thinks he spots the tail of a horse.
"And how's Via?"
"She's…." He trails off guiltily, his secondary eyes squinting. "She doesn't quite understand why her mother doesn't live with us anymore, but I'm looking into counselors. I don't want her thinking the divorce is her fault."
"Therapy," Fizzarolli laughs. "Satan below, you're a way better dad than Blitzø and I had." He cuts his eyes to Blitzø, smiling. "Could you imagine how much better we would'a turned out if we had therapy as kids?"
"Who needs good mental health when you're funny," Blitzø returns. They share a snicker and it makes Ozzie's heart clench painfully in his chest. These two haven't talked in fifteen years, but now they're thick as thieves again and Ozzie can't help his happy smile. He loves seeing Fizzarolli like this.
"Call me sentimental, but I'd prefer my daughter not bring this trauma with her into the dating world," Stolas says. "Goodness knows there's plenty of creeps out there who would take advantage of that."
"Maybe I should get Loona into therapy, too."
"We should all go to therapy," Ozzie remarks. "But liquor is cheaper." Stolas snorts a laugh, undignified and adorable. Ozzie thinks of that three year old again, how he'd smiled so brightly at every bit of magic Ozzie had shown him. Now he's got a baby of his own to spoil and fret over. It doesn't seem real sometimes, to think this little owlet is all grown up.
"Who needs therapy when you're as hot as all of us are," a voice calls from the doorway. Angel strides out onto the deck, wearing a bright purple dress that hugs all of his curves and a pair of boots that stop mid-thigh. Ozzie can't help the instinctual smile that curves his lips.
"Angie, how you doin', sweetheart?"
"Doin' great." Angel has become Ozzie's special project, proof positive that Sinners shouldn't be confined to Pride. He was miserable there, but he thrived in Lust, quickly rising in the ranks until he'd secured a meeting with Ozzie. He's been on Earth since the late forties or fifties, Ozzie can't remember which, corrupting new souls. "Didn't realize you were gonna play with us today."
"We just came to comfort Stolas," Fizzarolli answers.
"What a coincidence, that's why I showed up." Angel winks at Stolas, who blushes a deep crimson that shows up even through his feathers. "Husky told me you finally broke it off with that frigid bitch."
"Ah, yes," Stolas nods. "Stella and I have made an heir, so I thought it better to end things before the relationship deteriorated even more. At least this way, we can still be civil with each other."
"I could always kill her. I got a few special bullets that Carmine gave me a few years ago." When he notices everyone's surprised gazes, Angel wrinkles his nose in disgust. "Get ya minds outta the gutter! I sewed a few dresses for her little girls."
"I forgot you could sew."
"Lotta people do." Angel shrugs, but there's hurt in his eyes that makes Ozzie's heart ache. People tend to forget that Angel's more than just his body, he's a genuinely smart and talented person. Maybe he could start a series where he teaches his different hobbies. "So, are you and Fizz gonna join in an' make this a killer foursome?"
"Not today, sweetheart," Ozzie says. "I've got a meeting with Bee in half an hour and you know she's the only one allowed to be fashionably late to those things." He pats his knees and then he rises, feeling once more like an old man when surrounded by all these young faces. "Tell your beau I said hi."
"Will do, boss."
"Stolas, give me a call if you need anything, alright? And don't let Stella push you around."
"Thank you, Ozzie," Stolas murmurs with a smile.