A scoop of this, a sprinkle of these, a handful of those and…

  Lucifer slid the finished dish along the counter, deftly avoiding his partner’s disbelieving stare as yet another plate clanked onto his half of their work station.

  “…Hey.”

  Sidestep.

  Lucifer retreated to the far end of their enclave and crouched down to fetch the next item on their prep list. But instead of grabbing it, he dawdled, fingering the whiskers on the catfish… making sandcastles out of the powdered sugar… willing the heat in his face to cool down…

  He waited for a frustrated sigh followed by the sound of silverware clattering onto ceramic.

  And collect.

  [Good work, team! You’re one step closer to Sunday Dinner!

  30/31 Appetizers Completed

  You’ve each earned 0.07 Heavenly Points!]

  2.1/777 HP… Pennies on the dime, sure, but. It’s something.

  Lucifer popped up with a handful of crab apples, ready to get to work and—

  “Dude.”

  Elio touched Lucifer’s hand, lightly and uncertainly, though to Lucifer, it felt anything but. He ripped his hand away as if it were scalded and turned away, crab apples forgotten.

  “Look—”

  The sound of a knife rapping against a glass cut Elio off. The room slowly quieted and everyone’s attention was drawn to the front, where Cara was waiting patiently.

  “Alright everyone, it’s time for your favorite meal of the day!”

  The room grumbled in reply.

  “I know, I know, but,” Cara paused for dramatic effect. “Luckily for us, our newest scapegoat hasn’t been on 2nd’s Grand Tour du Les Facilities yet. So, if you’ll quickly rat-proof your stations,” she said, making a beeline down the center aisle. “We’ll drop our Johnny off to 2nd, choke down a twig or two to make the man happy, then head back down here for an early dinner. Got it?”

  At Cara’s nod, the room erupted into a flurry of movement. Crates of untouched ingredients and dirty pans were haphazardly shoved into cabinets. The appliances and counters were disconnected and wheeled off into the corner closets that Lucifer could’ve sworn materialized out of thin air.

  “Johnn.” Lucifer jumped at the sound of Elio’s quiet voice. He turned to see the boy fiddling with something between the stove and the counter. “I could use a hand here.”

  Silently, Lucifer nodded and tackled the other side of the work station. He clumsily shoved the items away, forcing pans into pots and storing utensils in bowls. Until Elio spoke up again.

  “I meant over here. Can’t get this knot undone.”

  Lucifer kept his distance and the boy kept his eyes on Lucifer, jiggling the offending piece of tangled rope at him. Hesitantly, Lucifer came over and thumbed at the knot.

  “It’s got Gary’s name written all over it. You met him yet?” Lucifer didn’t respond. Instead, he tugged at the loose end. I know this style from somewhere… Sumer, was it? I’m sure Inanna’s staff had something similar.

  “Lucky you, if you haven’t. He never stops bragging about being a Boy Scout. He actually got axed because those twin security guards snitched on him for sneaking down to Earth for his troop’s meetings.”

  Boy…Scout? Lucifer mulled it over as he started to make headway with the knot. Must be an anglicized term for Inanna’s attendants.

  “Crazy stuff,” Elio continued. “The guy’s like 756 years old, still sore that he never got to be an Eagle Scout. Guess that’s why he pulls stunts like this.”

  Elio pulled back, arms crossed as he observed the man. No response wasn’t the best sign, but after a good hour of failed conversation starters, Elio had finally figured out how to melt the tension between Lucifer’s brows.

  The room had cleared out. Only Cara remained, heading towards them with impatience written all over her face. Elio’s eyes flicked quickly between Lucifer and Cara before he took his chance.

  “Hey,” he tried again. Lucifer glanced over at him, briefly meeting his eyes for the first time since their… debacle. “Just so you know, I’m more of a ‘not my circus, not my monkeys’ kinda guy.”

  There was just one more kink in the rope, but Lucifer faltered, slowly turning to face the boy again. “…Pardon?”

  “You know… about the whole… you not being a Ham—”

  “Watch ‘yer mouth, there, boy.” Cara cut in in a convincing Southern American accent, stepping between them wide-legged with her fingers hooked in her belt loops. Mum was the word as the two froze, staring blankly at each other.

  “Ham? Them’s fighting words, ‘specially ‘round these parts, huh, Johnny?”

  “Is this here knot givin’ you two trouble?” Without waiting for an answer, she gently swatted Lucifer’s hand out of the way, paused to give the young man a thoroughly unimpressed look. “Really, Elio? A bowline?” She yanked the knot free. “Voila.”

  “Now,” she said, accent gone and urgency creeping back in. “Johnn, you’re coming with me. Elio, do me a favor and finish up down here, will ya?” Cara raised an invitational eyebrow at Lucifer and started toward the doors.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  And as Cara sped out ahead of him and Elio got to work behind him, Lucifer found himself hovering in the doorway, with his big toe brushing against the fabric of his bindle. He looked both ways—twice—before picking it up and untying the scraps.

  [New Common Item!

  ★☆☆☆☆

  Refashioned Picnic Blanket

  Polyester is so in this season.]

  P-polyester?!

  Lucifer clutched it his hands, so tightly that it audibly crinkled. That—that fraud! Degrading my precious bindle, how dare he?! Lucifer was seeing red. He was seeing that ridiculous, poorly dressed robot, he was seeing the bug-eyed creep inside said robot’s eyes. He seeing everything but Elio’s curious gaze on him. And stealing everything in it, letting that nosy little brat stuff it with toys?!

  “Uh. I bought that fair and square, y’know.”

  Lucifer startled. And of course, before the boy could say anything, Lucifer panicked and dropped the bindle. And then he ran.

  …

  To Lucifer’s surprise, 2nd’s grand tour of the facilities turned out to be just that.

  ‘Grand’ in the sense that it occupied the next several hours of his life, chasing behind the athletic man as he led Lucifer through a confusing mess of corridors and pathways. They even had to pause to reignite 2nd’s candle once his brisk pace and the slow march of time got to it.

  And ‘of the facilities’ in the sense that there actually were facilities hidden in the pitch black hallways, behind doors that were so small that they looked like single panels placed along the walls.

  There was a pantry stocked full of twigs (shelved according to the degree to which dung had settled onto their bark), one of preserved muds (separated into two categories—dung and potentially dung), and one of weeds (organized by amount of visible dung in the flowers).

  Lucifer was also pleasantly surprised to learn that 2nd was a man of very few words.

  He’d open a door, pass Lucifer the candle, and give him a nudge. “Half restroom.”

  He’d do the same at the next door. “Pantry.”

  And again, “Full restroom. Sigh.” He’d look a bit conflicted for a moment before throwing in, “Long line in the mornings.”

  It wasn’t what Lucifer expected from a house decorated with lollipops and gumdrops, but he knew that beggars could be choosers. And more than anything, he was pleased that none of 2nd’s words happened to be, “Don’t I know you from…?” Or “Now, I remember! Aren’t you…?”

  The tour ended when 2nd shut the final door on the very top floor, did an about-face, then stalked forward. In no time, he stood in front of a door with ’61’ freshly scratched into the surface—there were still little bits of wood sticking out that 2nd hastily broke off.

  “Be careful,” he muttered, getting the last of it. “Splinters.”

  Lucifer nodded sagely, waiting for the man to produce keys. But after a long, awkward moment of 2nd just looking at Lucifer with an arched eyebrow, he said, “Go ahead.”

  No privacy… I suppose that’s what happens to criminals.

  Lucifer dropped his chin and pushed the creaky wooden door open to reveal his massive disappointment of a room.

  An old, rickety dresser with missing drawers obstructed the tiny walk space, a closet with an absent door was in the corner right next to it. And to make matters worse, his window was almost certainly DIY’d, if the gaps around the edges were any indicator.

  There was a less-than-twin-sized mattress propped up on two strategically placed crates, draped in a blanket so thin Lucifer mistook it for a surgical drape. Sitting atop it were two heaping plates of tree branch casserole with and a note attached.

  “Oh wow,” Lucifer murmured. “This is…”

  “Acceptable.” 2nd finished for him.

  “Yes, it’s very…acceptable.” Lucifer turned around with a stiff smile. “Thank you very much for the tour, 2nd. You all have lovely facilities.”

  2nd nodded, Lucifer nodded back, completing the universal silent signal for, “Alright, time to go now,” but the man didn’t move. Instead, that look from earlier, where his eyebrows drew together, and his mouth slipped open a bit returned.

  “Say,” he said, tilting his head to the side.

  No. Not ‘say.’ Oh no. Oh God no.

  “Cicarelli, right?”

  …What?

  “Your surname. Cicarelli?”

  Lucifer shook his head. “No it’s… von Wigglestein.”

  “Ah.”

  And with one final nod, 2nd finally disappeared, leaving Lucifer to calm his raging heartbeat. The first thing that he did was move the bundle of twigs and tree sap from his bed, muttering to himself about poor hygiene. Then, he picked up the note, and quickly examined it.

  I brought you lunch and dinner. I know 2nd likes to take his time on the tour, and you’re probably starving. Cara said to trash this, but I wasn’t sure if you’d like it or not. It’s not too bad, in my opinion. But if you’d like, the food we made’s hidden in the top of your closet.

  -Elio

  Lucifer made his way to the closet and sure enough, he smelled it before he saw it. A full lobster, the creamiest mashed potatoes on this side of consciousness, and a mountain of Brussel sprouts that smelled just like his grandmother used to make.

  “Jesus,” he breathed, plopping down on his rock hard bed. But he didn’t wince; the pain didn’t even register with how excited he was to tear into that food.

  He quickly swiped the saliva from the corners of his mouth and cracked the lobster’s tail off and open, went to bite it, and. Stopped. Because he noticed the faint shimmer glistening, covering his reflection in its shiny tail.

  [New ??? Item!

  ★★★★★

  Honey’s Sunday Delight

  Made with… love.]

  Lucifer’s stomach growled, but his appetite had gone out of the window. He threw the tray onto the dresser, letting it clatter loudly. He put his head in his hands and gave himself a pep talk.

  It’s alright, Lucifer. This is fine. It’s only temporary.

  He stood up and began pacing.

  No need to stoop so low as to eat angel food. You’ll figure things out. You’ll find an Eternal Affairs office, you’ll explain your situation, you’ll be reincarnated and you’ll go on with your life.

  He picked up the tray of twigs and clear, runny sap and grimaced.

  You’ll be able to eat whatever you’d like back on Earth. Real lobster, real potatoes, those GMOs everyone’s been raving about. Everything.

  He picked up a twig and began gnawing on it. There was a wet bit that he reluctantly pulled out of his mouth, praying it wasn’t bird poop.

  And so there he sat, fantasizing about the future as he choked down the sorry excuse for a meal, while the warm evening sun cooled to navy.

  And until he heard a stampede of footsteps from above.

  He sat up straight, doing the mental math.

  Didn’t 2nd say this was the top floor?

  But then he relaxed. Perhaps I misheard him… This must be the line for nightly showers.

  Lucifer picked up his arm and gave his pits a little sniff. He drew back, eyebrows raised. Maybe I should try to get ahead of them.

  Lucifer searched the closet for the thin towel and even thinner wash cloth he’d been promised. And he made his way to the door. But as he opened it, the sound of footsteps had disappeared. And been replaced with a… jingling sound. It was a taunting little shake of a bell, down at the end of the pitch black hallway.

  And Lucifer being Lucifer, he crept right along after it. Not because he had an affinity for bells, or even because of his catastrophic levels curiosity. But because as he felt his way down the halls, breath caught in his throat, he saw …something dart around the corner of what 2nd claimed was a dead end.

  It was a purple, wispy something. A glittering something, that lit up the complete darkness of the hall the same way that his lobster tail, those party favors, and his tote bag did. Something very familiar to our dear Lucifer, who was a matter of footsteps away from getting to the bottom of things.