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strangeanglemeg
balletrat wrote in milliways_bar
*Meg's sitting at the bar, frowning over a list.

For once, it's not, in fact, covered with illegible choreographic designs. Instead, it's covered in mostly-illegible French phrases - which is a step up, yes?*

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A presence hovers behind her left shoulder for a while before speaking.

"No, I think you're going to have to give me a hint."

- oh, what kind of all-powerful force of evil are you if you can't even figure out some bad handwriting?

*Meg turns around, beaming.

. . . and then gives him a hug. Just because. (Also because she'd really almost forgotten how great that coffee mug was before Cooper found it for her.)*

It probably says something about the bar that Lucifer calmly endures an enthusiastic hug from a small blonde thing.

"One with not much patience for things that aren't neat?" he suggests.

Well, you're not expected to read it.

*Meg is prim. Or, at least, she is as soon as she disentangles herself from Lucifer and returns to her perch on the seat.*

It's for me, and I can read my handwriting perfectly well. So.

"So," Lucifer agrees, and puts a hand on the bar.

A book appears with the tiny glass of Amaretto; Lucifer turns it over in his hands and laughs.

"How was your Christmas, Mademoiselle?"

Belated, *Meg says. A little mournfully.*

I'm awful. I completely missed it and didn't realize until after - time's all hard for me to keep track of these days.

*She waves a vague hand down at the illegible papers.* Hence the last-minute lists to make up for it. Yours?

"Busier than usual," Lucifer says thoughtfully.

*Meg blinks.

The brief thought do I want to know? passes through her brain, and is, of course, promptly ignored.*

- how so?

Lucifer looks at her and lets one eyebrow quirk upwards by enough of a fraction that the pause becomes almost humiliating.

Then -

"I am planning a vacation," he says solemnly.

*It's maybe fortunate that Meg is not easily humiliated.*

- a vacation? *she echoes, obligingly.* What - sunny beaches and inappropriate swimsuits and all?

"Not quite."

He smiles.

"More of an epic quest. Riddles and twisting paths and snakes. That kind of thing."

. . . well, I don't know about you, but that's not exactly my idea of vacation, *Meg says, amused in spite of herself.*

I mean, I'm une fille simple, I call a spade a spade and an epic quest an epic quest. What's the goal?

Lucifer seems to be talking a lot of shop this evening. The answer is always slightly different.

"You danced me a City once," he says, and reaches out one hand so that his fingertips are touching the side of her head.

*Meg's stilled, even before the fingers touch her head; that night, that dance, is not one she will ever forget. Nor take lightly.

And then she sees the image that he shows her.

Meg isn't particularly literary, but she's got a good memory, and there's a moment when all she can think of is a poem she read, once. Not long ago.

I lost two cities. Lovely ones, and vaster -*

I'd say it's beautiful, *she says, aloud.*

But you already know that, so.

"It's perfect," Lucifer says with a twist of lips.

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