...I strongly dislike my typist.

( Typist: That Google picture meme. Image-heavy. ^_____^ )

* -- existing, more or less*

*hasn't been very much of a conversationalist, nor altogether the most cheerful person at the moment, but...do you think the typist cares? no! so bother at will. :D*

*and as a note, has something to ask of Meta and Zira, so if the typists would oblige...*

* -- tentatively, as he needs something, but is more than a bit hesitant to be polite with the Lord of Hell, so...with as much confidence as he can muster without sounding harsh* ...Lucifer.

*...look, two in one night ( Read more... )

*sitting...somewhere, fairly on his own, half-curled up on a couch, the burnt gash across his face barely half-healed* *a little quieter and more pensive-looking than usual, staring at nothing in particular*

Typist: There, 'Rika. Some quality time for the ridiculously adorable couple before we kill it with even more angst mwahahaha.

*sitting on a couch, in an empty room, staring at the wall across from him, an expression of shock on his face* *eyes are slightly glazed over and his entire form is shaking slightly* *needs to talk to someone, but...doesn't know who and isn't sure how coherent he could be, so...sits and struggles not to break down*

*is curled up on a stool, legs drawn in close to his chest, chin resting on his knees, in every way seeming to be doing his very best to make himself disappear from view* *normally would employ his wings for such a purpose as well, but they are not visible, their absence lending an especial vulnerability to the pose ( Read more... )