“Not to this extent.”
Lucifer pushed a pint towards the new arrival. Then poured himself
one and sat on the stool next to Jesse.“And you’re not in your usual company…”
The man in black makes a face-
somewhere between a deep displeasure
and the pain that stings from moving
any facial muscles at all.
“Hands still work.”
Drawled out, thickly, he doesn’t
move much more than the palms
that lift the glass, a long, near awkward
silence by his sip. He sets it down.
“They’ve gone fu-fluttered off. S’just me.”