Wyr woke, breathing in the smoky coal scent that accompanied her patron. The pallet under her rustled and crackled as she sat up, stretching with a moan.
"Careful now, sounds like that and we will have a problem on our hands." She snorted, rubbing warmth back into her fingers as she stood from the bed. He made jokes like this often, but the golden band around his finger spoke volumes. He spoke about his wife often, regaling her with stories from Below and how his wife tamed the wilds of the world they'd created.

Her cottage was cold this morning. The shutters blocked out the worst of the freezing temperature, but shafts of frosty morning light cut through the gloom. The thought of going outside today made her shiver violently as she shoved her frozen toes into socks and boots. It was snowing outside, she could feel it in the still air inside. Maybe today would be the day her toes would freeze off in their boots on her rounds.
When she'd finally rubbed the crust from her eyes she looked to the stove top. Sitting atop glowing coals was the being she'd sold her soul to. Enrobed in dark shadows, he sat with his goat legs crossed, one over the other as his red eyes watched her move about the space. She gestured to the stove.

"You will have a problem on your hands if you don't stoke that thing. All the power in the world and you can not keep my home warm?"
His chuckle was dark and warm, wrapping around her soul and holding it tightly.
"My apologies mo cridhe." Wyr's head snapped up from her pantry, catching the god's eye. She felt flushed, his smooth voice and playful cadence made the packed mud floor sway beneath her like a fishing boat out on the loche.
"Where…Did you learn that term?"
"You do not like it? I heard it from one of the wives down by the river yesterday." He chuckled. "Aw…Little witch, did your heart go all aflutter?"
Wyr bit down on her cheek, tasting blood as it trickled to her tongue. She'd made the bargain for power. She had power now. It was worth the teasing. Worth the way her body reacted to his sweet voice and sweeter words. Nothing could stand in her way now, no rumours, no wives, no man, priest or council could control what she held under her skin. But she would have appreciated a patron less…present. Her sister's patrons were all about a flicker of candle flame as conversation. Hers? Well, he loved to tease. He was hands-on. He kept repeating 'What is the point of power if you can not use it?' Maybe if Wyr had thought more about her choices she'd have sworn herself to Cerridwen, or Hecate, but no…She'd gone for the biggest bad she knew of. And now she had him. All the time.

"What do you want Lucifer? You only visit me when you are bored."
"Well that my lady is a falsehood! You, my darling little witch, are my most treasured human."
Wyr rolled her eyes and turned back to the pantry, pulling out the bread she'd made yesterday. From where she stood at the work table, she watched Lucifer send sparks of flames into the stove, igniting the wood he'd stacked in there.
She knew it made sense, that the heat of the fire wouldn't bother him…But it was still disconcerting to watch the demon interact with fire.
Wyr hacked at the bread with her knife and fetched the kettle, brushing past the demon to set it on the stove filled with water from the ewer she kept on the bench nearby. She'd learned to start leaving it close to the stove when it started freezing over at night inside the house. Lucifer's presence kept the biting cold back this morning at least. He seemed to like showing up on the coldest days. Sometimes Wyr thought he showed up simply to stop her from freezing to death at night. Her cottage wasn't like the others in the village, with open gaps under the door, cracks in the wooden walls.

His darkness brushed against her, the hem of her shift brushing against his legs. Not for the first time did she wonder what the fur of his legs felt like, but asking to touch him would feed into the pompous attitude he seemed to thrive on.
When she turned away, a clawed hand snagged around her waist, drawing her backwards to be enveloped in skin heated by the glow of the fire. It stung her cold skin, sending shivers through to her bones as she hissed. It was only when her back pressed against disastrously warm skin, did the shadows fall away and she could see the white skin of his elbows, darkening into his black, claw-tipped fingers. Despite the heat sinking into stiff, cold muscles, she felt frozen solid. Her patron had been touchy, since the moment they'd sealed their deal with a searing kiss, but the way her body molded against his…It wasn't something she'd been ready for. Not with a man who talked about his wife as much as Lucifer did. She looked at his hands, but saw no band of glittering gold.

She didn't know what that meant. Didn't understand where the ring had gone when only moments before it had been there. It had, hadn't it?
Wyr felt sharp teeth grazing the exposed skin of her neck, chemise sliding lower on her shoulders as claws moved across her body. Muscles tightened as a tongue flicked out, tasting her skin. Inside, low in her belly, heat pooled. She swallowed back the needy feeling that bloomed under her skin. She kept her hands fisted by her sides. She knew about these feelings, about the urges. She knew where babes came from and how partners eked pleasure out of each other...But hadn't experienced it for herself...And certainly not with a god.

"Don't you think you should get dressed before walking around like this?"
Wyr's breath felt tight as a hand skirted down her stomach, running over the linen front and then further. Her breath stuttered, heart beating and yet not beating as her skin seemed to grow hotter and hotter. It felt as though she could be steaming, frosty morning be damned. Her body twitched as his other hand moved up, possessively cupping a hand around her throat. Not tight enough to choke, but enough to anchor her against him. Wyr closed her eyes. Her voice came out strangled.
"It's my house. I wear what I like."

Just as a warm hand ghosted further down from her stomach below her hips, sliding inwards, and her breath hitched in her throat, there was a knocking at the door.

In an instant, Wyr woke.

"No. Lucifer. It's not happening. No one is coming up here. Heaven and Hell are separate, for a reason." Lucifer's frustration welled.
"Sera, please, if you just listened-"
"There is no redemption! Lucifer, you know this! You tried, remember? And you failed. So your daughter is trying now? Come back when she's accomplished something."
"All I'm asking is for a meeting. Sera, Charlie is something else okay? She's so much more, I swear, if you'd just meet her-"
"Accomplish something, anything. Goodbye, Samael."

The phone line died, the golden rope connecting to the ceiling fading to nothing. Fury burned at his fingertips and he could taste smoke. In the window he could see the flare of fire above his head, the horns piercing the air above his head. He looked like the monster Seraphina no doubt believed he was. But who was she to even think that? Anger, hot and itchy crackled into life at the tips of his fingers. Sparks of flames lighting up the office. He had to get himself under control. The papers he had spent hours moving over from Wyr's office littered every surface…How would she react if she learned he'd accidentally burnt it all down?

If he was thinking about the other day, and the way she'd looked at him outside the undertakers…Well…Maybe she wouldn't care too much. He couldn't stop thinking about that moment, the heated air between them. He'd wanted to touch her, needed to touch her. How he'd managed not to could have been called a miracle. The urge felt like a phantom, brushing up against his mind. He could picture exactly how she would feel, the softness of her skin, the way she'd fit against him.

He took a deep breath, the air now scorching his lungs. It was an uncomfortable feeling, mixing lust and anger. He couldn't go there with her. He didn't deserve to go there with her. He felt like they could call each other friends now…But this wasn't how friends thought about each other. Even if she had looked at him like that, Lucifer had left her at the cemetery, alone.

He knew she'd wanted him to stay.

After he'd left her behind the other day he hadn't been able to bring himself to reach out again, falling into the trap of anxiety, that Wyr had seen his vulnerable side again. She wouldn't be interested in him, wouldn't want to know him like that. More than that, Wyr had been so strong that day. He still couldn't come to terms with the idea of doing what she did as a job, for all the time she'd spent down here. The way she'd held that family together, and the words she'd spoken over the grave had left a deep pressure on his chest. He'd seen a goddess of death that day, merciful and kind as she held that mother up and buried the child beneath the dirt. But he'd left her there afterwards, consumed by his own fear and failings.

Once again, Wyr's words felt like molasses in his mind, making his thoughts sticky and slow.

Lilith isn't here, Lucifer. You want to avoid seeing those graves filled with bodies you know? You need to throw everything against the wall, and see what sticks.

Lilith wasn't here. His wife wasn't here, and their daughter needed help. Charlie hadn't asked Lucifer for anything for years, neither had his wife and it had led to Lilith leaving him behind. Charlie was already walking out that door; Alastor was providing her with the support he had wished to give her. Wyr was right. He needed to throw everything at the wall. He wanted to be the one she could rely on. For Charlie and Wyr to rely on. He needed to prove he could do this.
It hurt. Fuck did it hurt. Guilt ate away at him on all fronts. Guilt that he'd failed Charlie for so long, unable to fulfil his promise. Guilt because Lilith had given up on him and finally realised he wasn't changing. Guilt, because Wyr had looked at him with so much empathy, and let him leave her behind again.

Again?

It didn't matter.

How was he supposed to help his daughter if Sera wasn't going to listen to him? Charlie had already given up on asking him about getting through to Heaven. Again, and again, and again. He wasn't enough for her again. Lucifer slammed his fist on the desk rustling the papers littering the workspace. As a couple fell to the floor, he stood, stooping down to pick them up. As he stood, he caught sight of the portrait of his family, Charlie just a little girl sitting on the ornate throne, Lilith and himself standing beside her. He sucked in a breath, looking at Lilith's smile. He missed that smile desperately.

You need to throw everything against the wall, and see what sticks.

Wyr's idea was sounding less and less outlandish. His brothers had never met Charlie…And not that he knew, but he didn't think any of them had taken a partner and had children…It wasn't exactly something his Father would sign off on. She had said to throw everything against the wall…Maybe it was worth a try.

He pulled out his phone, going to his contacts and scrolling to the bottom of the very short list. Wyr. Would she mind his out-of-the-blue message? Never mind that he'd seen her message after the cemetery day and left her unanswered. Maybe she'd ignore him right back, but he should try, right? It was the witch's idea, so maybe she'd know just how to execute it. Or maybe she'd help him pick the best photos. Was he really supposed to pick out photos of Charlie and send them to his brother? What were the right photos?

Feeling a moment of bold courage, Lucifer hit 'message'.

"So, what, you just haven't spoken since?" Wyr shrugged, cheeks hot as she took in the empty wasteland.
"What do I even say? Hey Lucifer, just checking in on you, wanted to know if you wanted to catch up, and maybe talk about stuff? Oh hey, by the way, I kinda sorta had a sexy dream about us when I was alive. Oh, right, you don't remember. Yeah, yeah that'd absolutely work." Wyr puffed, scanning the top of the ridge she was hiking.

Was she the only one working up this much of a sweat? O'Malley didn't seem tired in the slightest. The pirate queen even seemed energetic. That might have been the thrill of the chase though. When the pirate had banged down her door that morning, waking Wyr from the beginnings of a delicious fantasy, Wyr had thought the bar was on fire, but no. O'Malley was hunting down a smuggler's drop and Wyr had been hauled out of bed to hike the wastelands.

Maybe because the pirate had spent her human life terrorizing the Irish coast, and Wyr had spent hers being a village woman, but O'Malley had no problems with their morning hike outside the city. Wyr didn't complain out loud, because whilst she was not made for exercise, it was these smuggling runs that got her outside Pentagram City, a place that one might consider to be a prison cell. A little magic here, a little crawling through tunnels there, and boom, Wyr was out in the wilds, where the wind smelt like brimstone, instead of smoke, bodies, drugs, blood, sex, refuse, and she could go on.

O'Malley rolled her eyes at Wyr's dramatics, but the pirate didn't get it. That dream, or really, that memory turned dream, had upended everything. Wyr felt hot and cold and hot, and boy was it hot out here? The ridge seemed further away than when they'd started, and Wyr's fur was starting to itch her skin with the sweat trapped beneath. She was going to stink like a goat when she got home. She wouldn't be able to go back to bed, but would have to immediately shower and brush the dead coat out because otherwise she'd be picking hair off all her sheets. Goat hair wasn't sexy. Unless you were looking at a golden haired devil with a sinful grin. Oh goddess. She really couldn't think about this morning. O'Malley's cutting voice brought Wyr back.

"You're an ijit. Only you could get yourself so tangled up in bargains and deals and your work that you'd be thinking dirty thoughts like this about your boss." Wyr frowned and swatted at O'Malley. The pirate danced ahead of her, sweat glistening and making her friend look stunning, where Wyr could only assume she had finally got colour in her cheeks and looked like a wet tomato.
"He's not my boss."
"He's the king of hell and your patron. He's doubly your boss."
"No…Lilith was my boss, and he doesn't remember the latter, so it doesn't count." O'Malley's snort filled Wyr's cheeks with a dark flush of annoyance. Lucifer wasn't her boss…They were partners. And almost friends, right? Could you be friends when you didn't hang out outside of work? She asked O'Malley and the pirate snorted.
"You could be work friends, I hear that's a thing topside nowadays. 'Work Besties'."

Wyr couldn't help but laugh because work besties sounded just as ridiculous as partners. The pair continued up the ridge, O'Malley stopping and checking her map and the cryptic messages that she'd been sent. Wyr struggled to keep up, breath sawing in and out of her lungs, which felt almost as on fire as when she'd died. It was times like this where Wyr could see O'Malley at her best. The Sinner had grown from when Wyr had pulled her off the street, now a bright star in the upper power players, and so close to becoming an overlord herself.

"So has the Pirate Queen caught on yet?" O'Malley's usually lithe steps stumbled and the pirate twisted, sending Wyr a grumpy, red-faced look. Wyr laughed as she pushed herself to catch up to her friend.
"Nobody calls me that!"
"Yet!" Wyr sang. "Come on Mal, don't you think it's time to rise up? Put another woman in charge?" O'Malley sighed and turned away, moving ahead again. It was slow work but the two women pushed on as the day grew warmer, the pentagram sky in the distance brightening like a faux sun.
"It's not like that, and you know it."
"You know Rosie would back you. And I think if I spoke to Zestial-" O'Malley interrupted her.
"No! I don't need help, Wyr. I don't even know if it's worth being an overlord. You never tried to become one. Why should I?"

Wyr could understand the question. Why not take power when it was so easy to grab? What was the worth of power? Wyr had sold her soul for power, so why hadn't she thrived on rising to the top? There were a lot of questions she couldn't give answers to, so wound up in bindings, that her mouth just wouldn't form the syllables needed. It took such a long time to pick the words to use that by the time she'd answered, the pair had finally climbed the top of the ridge. From where they stood, or in Wyr's case, stooped over holding her knees and trying to catch her breath, the wind gusted over the bluff, hot and fresh.
"Because the people -huff- who should be -huff- in power -huff- should be in it for the people." Wyr was finally able to stand, feeling her muscles quivering with exertion.

When she met O'Malley at the edge of the cliff side she was swallowed whole by the view of the city below them. The city mirrored the pentagram in the sky, the main roads bisecting everything, and the angel's clock tower standing in the centre of it all. From here they saw the billowing smoke that always seemed to come from the Doomsday district, the blue glow of electricity from the Vee's territory, and the pink and red hues of Cannibal Town, small and quaint compared to the rest of the city. It all seemed so tiny from up here, so minuscule that Wyr was for a moment, so entirely grateful she had O'Malley to get her out of the city. She'd spent 600 hundred years in there. She tried to spot her cemeteries, but the ancient magic that had been laid down when they'd been built obscured the edges of the ring where she knew the gates should be.

O'Malley was silent beside her for a moment while they took in the view.

"Then you should do it. I don't know why you insist on it being me, and why you support Alastor of all creeps." Wyr weighed the words in her head.
"I can't manage my work and the work of an overlord. I have too much responsibility as it is. You barely see me come extermination days and that's when there's the most unrest." She grinned at O'Malley. "Alastor has his own qualities you know. And once you get over him calling you 'sloppy Sally', I bet you guys would get on like a witch on fire."

O'Malley snorted.

"That guy's an asshole. I wasn't sloppy."
"You were totally sloppy. I've never seen anyone lose at cards that badly while cheating."

O'Malley shot her a look and the two dissolved into laughter. They turned from the view and O'Malley consulted her maps. As she led the way further back, Wyr pulled out her phone. It wasn't like she could show the photos to anyone, but she snapped one anyway. Maybe she'd print it out and show it to Alastor...If he spoke to her again. When she went to put the phone away, it started to buzz in her hands, Lucifer's name popping up on the screen. Shock burnt through her and Wyr almost dropped the the device.
"Lucifer's calling!" O'Malley didn't turn from her map.
"Oooh, a call for booty!" Wyr flushed hotter and picked up the call, throwing up her middle finger to her friend's back. To be honest, she'd thought she was out of cell service.

"Lucifer! Hi! I-I wasn't expecting to hear from you!"
She hadn't, not after he'd not answered her text the other day. The line wasn't a good one, and his voice came out sputtering and crackly.
"Oh! Oh Hell, I-I thought I pressed-" There was a muffled fuck on the other end and Wyr had to hold back her cackle. "Sorry! I ugh, hi Wyr." He sounded so defeated, that for a moment Wyr felt bad for him, and wondered if he hadn't meant to contact her at all. The thought left her feeling a little self-conscious.
"Hi…Lucifer. Uh, did you need something?"

"Need something? Why would-" Oh, Lucifer cringed inwards, did he only call her when he needed something? He was calling because he wanted her help. He felt stuck for a moment, unable to bring himself to now ask for the help he'd just been after. He needed to prove he could be a good friend.
"I actually just wanted to check in with you. About the uh, about the other day! Yeah! Uhm, just letting you know I am doing better." As he spoke he began to feel more confident with the lie. He nodded to himself proudly. The line crackled between them and Lucifer frowned. "What are you up to?"
"Oh! Well…I'm out walking." Her voice was pitched against the sound of gusting wind and he frowned. Wind like that didn't come through the city and from the thousands of years he'd spent roaming his ring when the phone towers were put in, the connection was spot on no matter where you were in the city.
"Walking…Where?" There was some yelling he couldn't make out in the background and he heard Wyr's sputtering voice before the line cracked and jumped and another woman's voice took over the other end.
"Your Majesty, it's a pleasure. Wyr has told me so much about you. Really…One could say too much. How about you two talk this out tonight? Over dinner? Wyr will be at your gates, as soon as the 'gram goes dark. But for now, she'll have to say tatty bye!"

There was a croaky shout he could tell was Wyr, just before the phone was hung up. A string of worry laced its way through him, the thought that Wyr was somewhere out in the city with someone who'd just taken her phone off her…But he didn't know her personal life, didn't know her friends beyond Alastor…He could always- No, never. The overlord already thought too highly of himself. If Lucifer stooped to asking Alastor about Wyr, the Radio Demon would never let it go. And who knew if he wouldn't lie just to cause trouble?

He put down the phone and looked moodily at the office. It was stacked high with folders of death files, names and lineages all waiting for his signature. He still couldn't see the end of the stacks, but if what the other person on the line had been telling the truth, and there was a possibility Wyr would come here and see all this…He wanted her to smile at him. He wanted her to praise him and tell him he was doing good. The yearning for praise startled him as he swept aside his notes on the hotel he'd had for Seraphina.
The photos for Michael could wait. When Wyr came over, when they sat down for dinner, maybe he'd mention it then…But for now, he could do something she'd be happy about. She'd grace him with a smile, and maybe she'd hug him. The thought sent a quiver through his fingers which he shook out with an embarrassed chuckle. Why was he so nervous all of a sudden?
What should he make for dinner? What did she like? The only thing he excelled at was breakfast or lamb. Did she eat meat? What if she only ate vegetables? What if she was a cannibal? Lucifer swallowed sickly at the thought. Those sinners would never have Charlie's supposed shot at redemption…That was a whole level of sickness he couldn't stomach.
His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out. The worry from earlier immediately dissipated as he read Wyr's text.

Sorry about that! My friend doesn't understand boundaries.

As long as you hadn't been kidnapped…

With the same sick feeling, he realised Wyr hadn't actually agreed to come tonight. The thought made him hesitate for only a second before tapping out another message.

Will I still see you tonight?

The reply didn't come for a few minutes and he wondered what the witch was thinking on the other end, wherever she was in Pride. Maybe she didn't want to have dinner with him…Maybe she wanted to keep their relationship strictly business. The idea made his stomach hollow out. It had been only ten minutes, but in that ten minutes, he'd look forward to the evening, rather than dreading the silence of the manor.
Because the manor, without Lilith's melodic voice echoing through the chambers, and Charlie's laughter as she sprinted through the grounds, made the home he'd always thought was cozy, a cavernous and cold building. When Lilith had been around, the manor had hosted party after party. Dinners were a warm affair with their friends. When was the last time he'd had friends over for dinner? Wyr's warm smile from the other day, after the second burial, warmed him through as his fingers started feeling numb.

He wanted to see the smile tonight. Dearly. His phone buzzed in his hands like she had been feeling him out through the ether.

I'd like that.

It was only three words, but he'd noticed that Wyr wasn't wordy when it came to her desires. She was happy with the outcome. Lucifer would have to learn her friend's name and send them a fruit basket. Or a sacrificial lamb. Whatever they preferred.

You're not a cannibal are you?

Do I come across as a cannibal?!

No! No! I was just wondering what we should have for dinner, and I realised I don't know what you like…Beyond whiskey and coffee.

He imagined her reading the message with an exasperated smile on her face, because the reply was again, short.

I like normal food. Ijit.

I haven't had lamb in a while…

Then I'll see you tonight for a lamb dinner.

Lucifer pumped his fist as the plans settled into place. He'd make lamb, no human parts required. Then he and Wyr would sit together in the candlelight and they'd talk, and laugh, and maybe grow closer. He'd walk her through the gardens, and maybe she'd ask him about the variety of apples in his orchard, and then he'd show off with dessert. What would he make? Something with apples?

Lucifer dragged the death files closer and pulled one from the top of the stack as he called down to the kitchens where the house staff were usually congregating at this hour. His butler answered instantly.
"Your Majesty."
"We'll be having a guest for dinner tonight. Please have the kitchen empty and ready for me by five o'clock. Have a lamb slaughtered and prepared."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"And have a table set up on the balcony overlooking the garden."
"At once, Your Majesty." Lucifer hummed thoughtfully. Dessert…Dessert…
"Gather a list of Scottish desserts and have it delivered to my office."
"Scottish…Desserts, Your Majesty?" Lucifer frowned.
"Yes. Scottish, Scotland, Earth. Do I need to spell it out for you any further?"
"No, Your Majesty. I will have the chef begin at once."

He wanted to impress Wyr because she was an impressive woman. Because she was important. She was his friend. He wanted his friend to be proud of the things he accomplished. So many of his friends had come and gone, so many he'd dropped out of touch with after Lilith had disappeared. None of them had known where she was, but he couldn't help but think…They'd all adored Lilith over him. She'd always been the life of every party.
So!

Lucifer clenched his fingers tight around his quill and then relaxed. He'd make Wyr something that reminded her of home. Or what he was pretty sure was her home. Or really her life. Sinners liked that right? Lucifer hung up the house phone and looked at the mountainous stacks. He could do this. He'd make a sizable dent, and then when Wyr showed up, he could show her how much effort he was putting in.

"You're an awful friend, Mal."

From the living room, Wyr heard a loud crack of laughter.

"But am I as bad as Alastor?" Wyr frowned through the open doorway at her friend. O'Malley didn't seem to want to change her stance on Alastor, and as much as he hurt her, Wyr was certain that of all their years together, Alastor saw her as a friend. He'd been tough on Wyr, but his being hurtful, and saying what he said was just another way of trying to help her. In the days following her realisation at the cemetery, Wyr had forgiven Alastor's comments. He'd been right to call it a crush, and she'd been too far into denial to agree with him. Now here she was, wrapped up in the throws of butterflies and moths and every fluttery feeling one could have.

It made her want the radio demon to drop in. Maybe his taste in clothes would finally rub off on her. She eyed the contents of her closet, spread out across her bed. Her chances were unlikely, and O'Malley was the least well-dressed of her friends. She'd tell her to wear a flannel and be done with it. But this didn't feel like a casual flannel type dinner.
Wyr turned to the radio and debated with herself for a moment. What if he was still mad at her? What if Alastor had decided Wyr had outworn her uses? He was a powerful overlord now and she was just a plain old sinner…Plain enough at least.
But he'd given her a cup of tea after their argument, and in Alastor words, that was a 'sorry I told you the unwelcome truth'.

She peeked out, and O'Malley was laying on her couch, lazily flipping through a book on ancient Egyptian burial techniques. Wyr quietly closed the door and went to sit by her nightstand. She fiddled with the radio's knobs until she heard music on the other end. When the song faded there was a static-filled silence. Not one to beat around the bush, Wyr cleared her throat.

"I need your help."

Alastor let her stew in silence for only a few moments before his staticy voice cut through the radio crackle.

"Ohh ho, the little witch needs my help? Whatever for?"
"I'm going out tonight…And I don't have anything to wear."

"Is that so? And with whom will you being 'going out' with this evening?" Wyr took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before letting it all rush out like a deflating balloon.

"Lucifer asked me over for dinner." Alastor's answer was short.

"I see."

The door to Wyr's bedroom was flung open and O'Malley peeked in, eyes landing on the lit up radio.

There was a shriek of fury as she pointed from Wyr to the radio.
"Are you seriously asking him for clothing advice?!"
The radio crackled in response. "Is that the pirate I hear? Well, well. No wonder you need help. Never fear Darling, I'm coming."

Warmth suffused Wyr as she let out a sigh of relief, which was quickly swallowed when O'Malley stormed back out of the bedroom. Wyr followed, already flinching before her friend said a single word. Her already red face had gone a burgundy wine dark.
"You seriously asked him for help choosing clothes? You said you'd had an argument!" Wyr shrugged and tried to smile through her wince at O'Malley's twitching eye.
"The last time you helped me pick something to wear was on that date with the succubus from Lust…Nobody has ever gone home alone from a date with someone from Lust…I did." O'Malley threw her hands up.
"The clown t-shirt rocked!"
"With the bright green shorts? I looked like a fucking clown myself."
"The colours helped you stand out!"

"You may be able to look like a clown, but our dear witch has class."

Both women jumped, Wyr laughing breathlessly as Alastor stepped into the apartment, shutting the door with a silent click. His sneer was impeccable as he looked O'Malley up and down and he nodded to himself. "Yes, our dear Wyr needs glad rags if she's off to cut a rug tonight." He set Wyr with a look, his grin straining slightly like he wanted to drop it, but couldn't bring himself to. Wyr led him to the bedroom as O'Malley angrily threw herself back onto the couch, muttering senseless obscenities about Alastor.

Wyr closed the door behind them and the two stood in tense quiet for a moment. Alastor, never one to make the first move, flicked the radio onto his station, then turned to her clothes. Wyr stood beside him, watching him, as he assessed her wardrobe.

"I'm sorry…About the other week. And the things I said. I shouldn't have pried…Or said I'd turn you into steak."
"Water under the bridge, my dear." Wyr shook her head and tried to smile, but still felt anxious.
"You were right" she admitted. Alastor was silent for a time, the radio the only sound in the room.
"I see." The word was long and drawn out like he was thinking about it.
"I know you said it was pathetic-"
"Pining from afar isn't your style, and your taste is atrocious." Wyr snorted, feeling a little wetness sting at her eyes. Alastor was fiddling with his microphone. Clawed fingers taped against the head of it as he eyed her clothes critically. He made a humming noise and went to the closet, pulling out a garment bag. Wyr bit her lip, holding back tears, when she knew there hadn't been anything left inside that closet. He placed it on the bed and tapped his cane against it.
"Wear that." Wyr felt her lungs constrict as she silently brushed away the wetness in her eyes. The overlord turned to her. "You could do so much more" Wyr sucked in a breath, ready to retort when Alastor's smile softened ever so slightly. "I'm just saying, you, my darling, deserve so much more. Don't let him forget that."

Not one for any more sentimentality, Alastor dissolved into shadows and Wyr watched him disappear under the door. When she heard O'Malley's shriek and his smug chuckle, Wyr turned back to the garment bag and dashed away a single tear. It wasn't the time, but her heart felt so damn full as she unzipped the bag. They were going to be fine.

Pulling out the dress, Wyr hummed appreciatively. She wasn't sure what Lucifer would think, but that shade of red was exactly Alastor's style.