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Adam: It's been another long day of frustrating practice. The dresser is littered with broken glass, a few shards of thicker ceramic or porcelain among them. Even though it's well into evening, which is the safer time to vacate his personal hotel hell, Adam is lying across the bed in the dark like an angsty teenager, blearily moving in and out of consciousness, though the intense headache is waiting for him each time he jolts back to wakefulness.



Meg: Humming happily to herself, a very cheery demon let herself into his room, bag filled with hot pink sippy cups, hot pink throwing knives, and baby pink silk panties. A frown spread over her face as she saw he was already in bed. "Couldn't even wait for me," she muttered as she sneakily made her way over and knelt on the side of the bed, one hand slowly reaching for him. "Pickle pie. Hey, Sugar Cookie," Meg said quietly as she placed her hand on his shoulder, leaning in close to him. "Wear yourself out already? Oh, sweetums, you should've waited for me. I brought sippy cups. And more liquor. No glass bottles though." Setting the bag down beside the bed, she gently shook his shoulder. "Pumpkin."



Adam: Adam's in one of his less-conscious states when Meg lets herself in, not waking at the door opening, and only sort of stirring at the sound of her voice. He makes a groggily interrogative noise and unconsiously rolls towards her, at least until that shake brings him wholly to his senses. Then he startles away with a more panicked noise, still inarticulate, snapping upright into a sitting position. His head doesn't appreciate that fast movement. "Fuck." He grips at his temples with thumb and middle finger until the pain abates enough to see, then blinks at the demon in confusion. "Meg?"



Meg:"Who'd you think it'd be? The Easter Bunny?" she asked, crawling closer. "What's up, Sugar Cookie? You up for knife throwing or you want to drink yourself to oblivion? I have supplies for both. Or I could go hook myself a Crowley supporter to practice on. 50 points for an eye, 100 points for the jewels. What sounds good?" A smirk spread over her lips as she wrapped her arms around him. "Or we could watch another dirty movie. You're good at critiquing those." What it really seemed to be, was Adam was the only interesting person Meg had to talk to. There was a sort of worship relationship with Lucifer, but Adam was fun to annoy the Hell out of. Pun intended.



Adam: Adam just grunts at the first questions, because it's true, who else would it be visiting him? Anyone else would probably be here for nefarious reasons, and make a much louder entrance. He's glad they didn't. Maybe he's still half-asleep, or maybe the headache is overwhelming his mental capacity because he has no clever banter to offer in return, just stating flatly: "Drinking sounds good." This sitting up thing is too much right now, so he drops (carefully) onto his back again, raising both hands to massage his temples which doesn't do much good.



Meg: Shaking her head, Meg reached down into the bag and pulled out a plastic bottle filled with whiskey and one of the pink sippy cups that said 'Princess' on the side. Filling the sippy cup, she stifled a laugh and handed it to him before taking a swig from the bottle and setting it aside. The demon laid beside him, curious eyes watching him. "You're no fun when you're like this. What's wrong, puddin'? Someone playing with your dreams? Dreaming about the prom and showing up naked on accident? Or maybe on purpose. Never know with you. You like to surprise me with how freaky you are."



Adam: "Am I usually any fun?" He sounds appropriately dubious. When that sippy cup is handed over, Adam stares at it blankly for a moment, then snorts in an exasperated kind of amusement and gives Meg a look. However, he does make use of it after snapping the little lid off (because that's just too much). "I surprise myself with how freaky I am. No, no dreams. I think I just overdid it today." In explanation he waves at the dresser and its mosaic's worth of glass chips.



Meg: "Not in the conventional sense. But fun for me, sugar lips." Meg laughed as she watched him take the lid off the sippy cup. Wisely, she didn't say anything. Her eyes went over to the broken glass and her brows rose. "Had a lot of fun, did we? I hope the neighbors' heads are still intact. I'd be so hurt if you managed to blow them up and I wasn't around to see it." The demon chuckled and leaned against the headboard, her shoulder brushing his. "So what should we do then? You've already tired yourself out after all."



Adam: Adam continues nursing the sippy-cup of liquor, and yeah, it's a little ridiculous, but what about his life isn't at this point? He follows Meg's gaze, but snorts (more derisive this time) at her words. "No, no one lost their head. The fucking glass is still a challenge sometimes, I don't think I'll level up to decapitation for a while." And...maybe he shouldn't have mentioned that, since Meg was under the impression that if she pissed him off, her head might explode. But it's whatever. No taking it back now. Strangely, she doesn't piss him off that much anyway. "This is supposed to be getting easier." Unconsciously the line of his shoulders tenses when the demon's brushes against him. He shakes his head at the idea of doing anything at all. "No idea. I'm not really feeling up to entertaining."




Meg: With a sigh, the demon laid her head on his shoulder, her body touching his from hip to foot. "Come on, stud muffin. You don't have to entertain me. Haven't you learned by now that I'm good at entertaining myself? Besides, I have a surprise for you." Focusing on the bag, she used her special demon powers that always came in handy to bring the hot pink throwing knives out and laid them on the bed. "I think learning something like throwing knives, something to teach precision, could help you with your abilities. It teaches you to focus and hone and blah blah blah. It's also really fucking fun. Wanna try when your head isn't attempting to beat out a samba?"



Adam: Relieved that he's not expected to get up and be entertaining, Adam reaches to pat Meg's head in a somehow not-demeaning way. He nods (cautiously), because she is good at entertaining herself, but the bag's arrival and mention of a 'surprise' get a suspicious look. After the sippy cups, he's not thrilled to discover what's next. Knives are not what he was expecting. "Oh." In the dimness of the room, Adam can't be certain, so he picks one of the knives up and inspects it more closely. Yeah, it's pink. But it seems functional otherwise. "Uh, thanks." The gratitude sounds a little uncertain. "That's not a bad idea. My aim's pretty good with a gun, but I imagine this takes more skill."



Meg: Meg laughed. She loved the way he was so suspicious of her. "Relax. Though I did bring you something else. I think it'll help your headache." This time, the demon leaned off the side of the bed and rummaged through the bag until she found what she was looking for. Sitting back up, she dropped a pile of neatly folded brand-new (with the tag still on) baby pink silk panties with lace on his lap. "Happy birthday, stud muffin. I hope they fit. I had to try and guess your size. Unless you want me to model them for you," she said half-seriously with a wink as she cuddled against his side once more.



Adam: He's got good reason to be suspicious of her, as is proven a moment later. Adam stares at the pile of silk and lace in his lap for a moment, then sets his sippy cup aside to cover his face with both hands. Laughing doesn't exactly help his headache, but it doesn't make it worse, and it does improve his mood somewhat. "I don't -" He can't even finish the sentence, dissolving into snickering again. It doesn't last very long, but Adam studiously avoids looking at the panties lest he start up again. "If you think they're my size, I'm sure they wouldn't fit you anyway." Going on with just sort of ignoring the existence of the things, he retrieves his liquor and insinuates the opposite arm around Meg's shoulders. Because it's more comfortable than having it pinned against his side, of course.



Meg: Shaking her head, she grinned at him. "That's the point. They wouldn't fit. Makes the show extra special after all." With a chuckle, Meg settled more comfortably against him. "Drinking and cuddling. What a night. Mind if I find a movie?" Of course she didn't wait for him to respond. She flicked her fingers and smiled as the television turned on. Her fingers twitched as she changed channels again and again, until she found what she was looking for. A gruesome horror movie with gratuitous nudity. "Better than last time? Or should I find another dirty movie? This one has tits and blood though."



Adam: Probably with more caution than necessary, Adam gathers up all the panties and moves them to the nightstand. Maybe he can use them to clean his gun? "Yeah, this is the demonic nightlife I was so excited about. I feel so damn... damned." Even though Meg doesn't wait for his answer, he motions his acceptance with a hand before hunting down that bottle of liquor to refill his sippy cup. It's not very large, after all. Looking at the television when prompted, he observes the on-screen violence for a moment before giving a careless shrug. As long as it doesn't get too loud, he's good.



Meg: "No, normally it's a lot sexier. And bloodier. But you obviously need a break so I'll have to get my sexy and bloody the virtual way." Laughing, she watched him for a moment before returning her attention to the movie. Rolling her eyes, she sighed and leaned against him. "So how'd you get to be good with a gun?" she finally asked, one hand playing over his arm. "I don't imagine it was in medical school. And I'm pretty sure that Lucifer didn't arm you either. Or did he?"



Adam: "Right. Sorry to disappoint." He doesn't sound apologetic in the least. Slumping a bit farter into the pillows, he watches the movie without actually taking anything in. Equally absently, a couple of fingers start to play through Meg's hair. Maybe catatonic is just a good state for Adam. "Hmm? Oh...no, he didn't. But he didn't hunt me down for a while after I climbed back up here. I was squatting in empty vacation homes and the first one was a sort of hunting lodge. So I taught myself. I never touched a gun when I was alive, but it seemed like a good skill to have now."



Meg: Meg shrugged. "Why apologize. I know you're not the sexy time type, puddin'. If that's what I was looking for, I'd go see your psychic friend." The demon hummed happily as she felt him play with her hair a bit. "Well knives are my bread and butter. Might help you out. But I'll wait til you're not half-dead to try and teach you how to handle them." How was it she managed to bite back half the things she wanted to say? Oh, yeah. Because even if he couldn't blow her head up on purpose, nowhere did it say he couldn't do it on accident if he got pissed off enough.



Adam: Adam does something like a laugh for her words, except the noise stays in his throat; he's too lazy to let it go farther than that. "Yeah. That'll be interesting...just not now. I might cut myself, God forbid." Having drained the cup once more, he notices that the liquor actually is helping the pain in his head abate this time. It was fifty-fifty odds on any given day whether he'd be able to nurse it away, or end up curled in a fetal position clutching his skull, so he's glad this is one of the former.



Meg: "Well you're looking a bit more. . .I don't know. Wanna play? How about we test your strength? Huh?" Meg said with a mischievous grin as she got to her knees and turned to look at him. "Think you could pin a demon?" she teased as she leaned forward, her nose an inch from his. Alright, so she was bad at sitting still for long periods of time. Especially when there was someone like Adam beside her. He was hella fun to rile up and more interesting to learn about. The glass exploding had surprised her. If he could pin her flat on her back, she'd be even more surprised.



Adam: Well, Adam's feeling better, but he's not feeling that much better. He tilts his head, but doesn't quite draw away, squinting at the demon from close-up. "Do you know, I think you might legitimately have ADHD. We should talk to your pediatrician about that." Yes, he realizes the irony of him saying this when he looks so young, but no, it doesn't prevent him from saying it. Tugging at the strands of her hair that are still wrapped among his long fingers, he eventually breaks and looks away, seeking out the bottle for another refill. "Give the medicine some time to work before you go shaming me with a wrestling match, all right?"



Meg: "Well aren't you precious. Here. Have it straight from the bottle. I'm gonna hold you to that wrestling match though." Laughing, she leaned back and booped him on the nose with her finger before holding the bottle of booze out to him. "Drink up, stallion. I wanna see just how manly you are." Meg ran a hand through her hair as she leaned against him once more. "So what do you do all day when you're waiting for Lucifer? Or whoever to show up? Just drink and practice?"



Adam: "Yes, I am." Setting the cup aside, Adam takes the bottle instead and appropriately drinks up. Somehow, the stuff being in a plastic water bottle makes it easier to drink; if he wasn't already such an alcoholic it might be dangerous. That line of questioning makes him scowl slightly, but he stops quickly because his headache dislikes that contortion of facial muscles. "I haven't seen Lucifer in weeks. And yeah, that's about it. I...read sometimes. Or just get out and walk around at night, when this place feels too enclosed."



Meg: "You poor demented little thing you. Is that really all you do." Meg shook her head and reached into the bag, fishing for another of the bottles and opening it. As she brought it to her lips, she eyed Adam. He was . . .interesting. She wasn't sure there was a better word to describe him than that. The demon leaned against him, chuckling as she looked over at the panties on the nightstand. "How did you come to be such a stick in the mud?"



Adam: For that question, Adam does something between a shrug and a nod, raising the shoulder opposite from Meg and letting it just hover near his ear. Said like that, it really does sound like an empty existence. Maybe that should be more troubling, but Adam is not given to introspection. In fact, he stays way the hell away from self-examination. But he's plainly a little defensive about it; when Meg asks that latter question, his spine stiffens and he turns to look at her with a chilly return of The Face. "I spent a practical eternity in a tiny box with two warring archangels. Adjusting to life isn't exactly easy after that." Realizing that he sounds more like he's got a stick up his ass than one in the mud, he forces himself to look away and drink more. Surely that will help.



Meg: "Yeesh. I was teasing you, pickle pie. You sure you don't want some help getting that stick out of your ass? I'm sure I'm not that out of practice after all." Meg couldn't help but wink at him. Sure, she was probably signing her own death warrant, but what the Hell. She'd managed to skillfully avoid Crowley and the Winchesters. What's life without a lot of danger? "Fine. I'll watch the movie and let you get drunk. I stand by my offer of turning the room into a strip club. I'm sure you've got excellent moves after all."



Adam: Luckily, Adam still has a little self-control in most situations that don't include anyone with the name of Winchester, so he just huffs at the wink and tips the bottle back again. He does make some effort to smooth over that awkward patch, even going so far to run a hand through Meg's hair in a sort of apologetic gesture. "Oh, yeah. You shoulda seen me on the cheerleading squad." Taking grateful advantage of her offer to watch the movie and let him get drunk, Adam lets his eyes droop closed, though he continues drinking now and then; he doesn't appear to be going back to sleep. "What about you, kittenface? What do you do all day? Your life can't be that exciting if you spend time with a wet blanket like me."



Meg: She'd never admit aloud, but she really liked it when he called her kittenface. "Cheerleading squad? Oh my! Mr. Milligan, you sexy thing you. Later on you will have to show me some of those sex man cheerleading moves." The demon chuckled and enjoyed his hand in her hair. His question made her stiffen for a moment and then sigh. "Well, avoiding Crowley is number one. Avoiding the flannel-wearing boy scout wannabes is number two. And coming to check on you is pretty much it. Mostly sit in a quiet place trying to think up annoying things to do and call you. Gotta admit you enjoy it though, Sugar Cookie."



Adam: Nearly grinning for the enthusiasm, Adam shakes his head lightly. "Sorry, I was joking. Being raised by a single woman was enough of a mark against me; I don't think I would've survived the high school bullies if I'd been a cheerleader." Listening to that litany, he hums in thought. "At least you get around, being on the run all the time. I kinda miss that." Of course, there's no reason he has to stay in New York. Only that since he met Lais, it seemed like a good idea to stop for a while before going back to pin-balling around the continent. "I can't even pretend otherwise, kittenface. You light up my life." That doesn't exactly seem sarcastic, but neither does it sound very serious.




Meg: "Too bad you don't mean that, puddin' pop." Meg shrugged and curled against him as she turned her attention back to the horrid horror movie with it's overdone gore and gratuitous nudity. "Her tits are fake," the demon muttered as she watched the screen. "Nice, but obviously fake. What's wrong with women having real ones?" she whined. Patting blindly, she found the other bottle and opened it to take a long swig. "How's your head, sugar cookie?" she asked as she put the bottle aside again



Adam: "O ye of little faith," Adam says, mock-scornfully. He hears it and hears the echo of Lucifer's snarkastic tone and for a second is really unsettled, but luckily Meg gives him something else to focus on right away. Actually lifting his head and opening his eyes, he scrutinizes the tits in question. "I think it's social mores. In acting, everyone's at least partially fake, so it's just expected. I bet she had work done to her nose, too." He drops his head again, humming when the said head is questioned. "Getting better. I wish I could do this shit without feeling like I was hit by a truck after. Does it get easier?"



Meg: "I was more focused on her tits than her nose, but I think you're right." The demon couldn't help but laugh. It was like a demented joke. Curled up with Michael's last vessel in bed criticisizing an actress's fake tits with the likely event of Lucifer walking in at any moment. Nobody could make this shit up if they tried. "Honestly? I don't know. You're. . .different. It did for me. But I'm not human, or mostly human, or whatever it is you are. There anything I can do to help your head?" Meg got a mischievous grin on her face which should've warned him that whatever she said next would be bad. "Well, you know what they say cures a headache best, right?"



Adam: "Well, the tits are definitely more noticable. Probably the point of both alterations. Don't want your nose drawing more attention than your chest." Adam's aware he's speaking somewhat at random, a combination of fatigue, liquor, and the very bizarre demented joke they're indeed existing in. Why not just go with it. "That's fucking reassuring, thanks. I don't know how much human I am, really, but I wish I was more of something else that didn't get headaches or need sleep." He misses that grin, since his eyes are closed, but he cracks one open to look at Meg for that suggestion. "Of course I do. I was almost an almost-doctor. You think I haven't tried that yet?"



Meg: Unfortunately, when he disclosed that, she was taking a swig from the bottle in her hand. Liquor spewed all over the bed as she choked, hitting her own chest to dislodge it. "What . . .Y-You already tried. . .What?" The demon quickly recovered. "And here I was beginning to think you might not have genitals. Huh. I don't think you did it right if it didn't work. The endorphins are supposed to . . .Never mind." A giggle fit broke out as she tried to picture it. "Okay. I have to ask. Was this a solo dance or a duet. I just wanna know which funny picture in my head is more accurate."



Adam: Adam's eyes snap open again when he's suddenly splattered with liquor, but he can't stop himself from laughing. Nice to catch her off guard for a change. Wiping the liquor-and-saliva off his arm onto the bedspread, he arches an eyebrow at the suggestion that he might not have genitals. But he's absolutely not going to say anything about it. Instead he rolls his eyes for the eventual interrogation. "Now you're just being nosy. I already told you I don't get other visitors. Or did you think Satan maybe found time in his busy scedule to drop by and offer a reach-around?"



Meg: Meg arched a brow and couldn't help but laugh at that. "Lucifer and a reach around. Oh, darling. If it was a solo act and it didn't work, I know you did something very wrong. You gotta let go. You can't think when you're doing it. Gotta enjoy it." Dear Lord in Heaven she was giving Michael's vessel advice on masturbating properly to rid him of his headaches. The visual she had in her head of Lucifer and Adam in bed . . .She curled up on the bed, clutching her sides as she laughed and laughed. It was physically painful, laughing this much, but she couldn't help it, it was too damned funny. Wiping tears from her eyes, she finally was able to calm herself enough to sit up and attempt to look at him, though she broke out into giggles once she did. "Oh, darling. You do seem to surprise me. I thoroughly enjoy it. But you must be doing it wrong. Did no girl ever give you a good wanking? No one show you how to do it just right? Toes curling under, eyes fluttering, mind blank and body in pure ecstasy?"




Adam: This whole verbal-game-of-Chicken thing is becoming more enjoyable, but Adam actually surprised himself with that last line about Satan. He's very, very glad when Meg laughs rather than looking scandalized; he's never sure of how far that Devil worship goes with her, but now he can allow himself to chuckle some, too, lifting his free hand when she curls away to partially cover his face. "Oh fuck, now I've traumatized myself." But there's still something of a grin in his voice, so he's plainly not that horrified. He's had some very uncomfortable experiences with Lucifer, but luckily, none of them were of that variety. A little more composed, if still repressing the urge to laugh, he gives Meg an arch look and manages to maintain it throughout that interesting description. "I did go through puberty, you know, kittenface. I got real practiced with it, I don't think you need to give me tips."



Meg: "Oh, Sugar Cookie. You could obviously use a few pointers. I mean, your headache is still around after all. Want me to show you how it's done?" she teased before cuddling against his side. Meg knew the answer. But she couldn't help but give him shit about it. "Need more liquor yet?" Maybe Adam had a point about the ADHD thing. She was having a Hell of a hard time sitting still. Although the image of him . . . trying to rid himself of his headache was . . .distracting. "Can I. . ." She cleared her throat. "Yeah. . .I might need to use your shower, pickle pie. I think you managed to actually get my meatsuit dewy. Congratulations." Obviously she didn't care if she scandalized him, she hoped to actually manage it some day.



Adam: Adam gives a brief laugh, the grin still lingering around the edge of his mouth though it shifts in some way while he eyes the demon thoughtfully. It's difficult sometimes to tell how serious or flippant she's being. Of course, the kid recognizes this as teasing; on the other hand, he thinks there might be something besides trying to make him uncomfortable behind it. That possibility makes him more uncomfortable than anything she's said, and he doesn't currently want to examine why. When she changes topics in the usual nonsequitorious way he looks away, taking up his bottle and draining the small remnant of liquor in it before answering. "Sure, more liquor is always good." And then the train of thought derails again, onto something adjacent to the previous route, and Adam gives a forced, long-suffering sigh. "Yeah, I deserve a fucking medal. For tolerating your company if nothing else. You know where the bathroom is, help yourself."



Meg: Meg frowned as she felt the sudden change. Maybe she had stayed long enough. Sighing she shook her head. She bit back what she wanted to say and slipped her jacket off, tossing it on one of the chairs nearby. "I'll look into that. I'm sure Lucifer would love to give you one," she said without looking at him. As she walked to the bathroom, she avoided his gaze, pulling her shirt off and tossing it aside as well. "Feel free to join me, pickle pie," she threw over her bare shoulder half-heartedly before walking into the bathroom and shutting the door most of the way. Turning the water on as hot as it would go, she slipped the rest of her clothes off and stepped in. Dear Lucifer, were her feelings hurt. Maybe hanging around mopey . . whatever the hell he is, maybe she should cut back and just teach him knife throwing. Obviously she was going soft. Torture. Grab one of Crowley's guys, make him scream. That would be just the ticket.

Pressing her forehead against the questionable tiled wall of the shower, she sighed. Right. Just deal with baby Winchester for a bit longer, keep an eye on him and make sure he didn't implode, then off to harden herself back up. Sounded simple enough. Though she doubted it would be. Could it ever? A groan escaped as she pushed her hands through her soaked tresses. The redness of her skin from the scalding water gave her a strange sense of satisfaction as she watched the steam fill the room.




Adam: With as bubbly as Meg usually is, Adam would have to be a lot more out-of-touch than he is to not notice the way she deflates. Apparently his uncertainty was more obvious than he realized, and apparently it was misinterpreted, and apparently he'd upset her. That last is less surprising than it should be. He hasn't exactly met many demons, but judging from Meg, the stereotypes were as narrow-minded and uninformed as stereotypes about anything. With the sound of the bathroom door closing Adam pushes himself upright and rubs at the bridge of his nose (still that headache, now strengthened by confusion and guilt).

He's not about to take her up on the offer of joining her in the shower, but after a good solid ten minutes of really uncomfortable thought, Adam gets up and stealthily makes his way into the bathroom. He'd intended to wait until she was done, but really, addressing the opaque shower curtain is a lot easier, so he grabs a towel and leans against the sink. "Meg. It's not that I don't appreciate the offer. But I...it's really fucking weird being, alive, again. And being around another actual human -- not human, sorry, another person, that's even weirder. I keep it together all right when I'm alone, or when I don't have to think; besides that..." Adam trails off, rolls his eyes at his ineloquence, sighs heavily. "I'm sorry. That's all."




Meg: The sound of his voice nearly caused her to jump, but she managed not to. "I was teasing you, numb nuts." His apology threw her. Shutting the water off, she slid the curtain open and looked at him, head tilted and very unashamed. "Never thought I'd see the day where you apologized to me." Laughing, she stepped out of the shower, naked and dripping wet. She honestly didn't care as she wrapped her arms around him in an awkward hug. Meg knew it was awkward because she was bare-ass naked and he was an awkward little turtle. If he hadn't already chatted her ear off about not being a virgin, she might've mistaken him for one. Okay. . .there was no 'might'. She had mistaken him for one. Hell, the demon had even questioned whether or not he had genitals.

Maybe it was awkward as fuck, but she didn't care. Laughing and shaking her head, she stepped back after making sure to make a big deal about kissing his cheek. "Aren't you just the most precious little thing I've ever seen." With a huge grin, she placed one hand on her bare hip and cocked the other out, her other hand held out for the towel he had. "Unless you'd prefer I stay this way," she teased with a wink, obviously back to her old self. Or at least to her usual shenanigans.



Adam: Briefly, Adam scowls for those words. She might have been teasing, but he knew she was upset by his apparent disinterest. But there's no need to press the point, so he switches to a big-eyed contrite expression when she emerges from the shower. He's doing so good at the apology thing that he doesn't even let himself scan her form for more than ten seconds before focusing on her face and offering the towel he's holding as a sort of self defense.

But she doesn't take the damn thing and now she's hugging him and the only reason Adam doesn't flinch is because he's already a single line of tension. To be fair, he'd be nearly as uncomfortable with a clothed hug. "Uh, yeah. I probably am." Eventually he gets the capability to react, but it comes too late, when she's already stepping away, so he pats her on the shoulder awkwardly and hands over the towel with alacrity. Adam narrows his eyes at the teasing words, but he's glad she's acting more characteristic again, and summons the will to reply in kind. "Hey, however you're comfortable." Inching away along the counter, he doesn't forbear to do the elevator eyes again before reaching the door. Touch is still iffy, but he has no problem with sight.



Meg: Meg laughed. She thoroughly enjoyed the way his eyes moved over her. "I guess I was wrong about you after all." Setting the towel aside, she walked over to where he was by the door. "So you do have genitals. And you are not a frigid little thing. It's good to know." She smiled as she brought one hand up, brushing her fingers over his cheek. "Poor poor Adam," was all she said as she leaned forward, brushing her lips along his gently. No need to scar the boy more than she probably already had. How often was it he had bare-ass naked demon chicks dripping wet and kissing him? She didn't imagine it happened very often. Though she was curious how he'd react to it happening now.



Adam: Adam isn't surprised to be caught. He wasn't being subtle. He didn't think he needed to be subtle. "Yeah. Uh, I mean, no, I'm not a frigid thing. And --" And she's coming closer. And Adam is trying not to look flustered. And if he manages it it's because every muscle in his body is taut and he can't move enough to look flustered. He makes one last valiant if futile attempt as she moves in: "Did you hear anything I just said at all?" He closes his eyes when that hand brushes his cheek, like he's commending his soul into Someone Else's keeping. There isn't a return to that kiss, but he doesn't seem to discourage it either, opening one eye uncertainly when Meg draws back, then the other. Torn between conflicting instinctive reactions, he realizes he's already got a hand around the back of her neck to keep her in place, but he doesn't try to draw her back. This is actually not helping his headache at all.



Meg: The demon stood there with wide eyes, the feel of his hand on the back of her neck was not something she had expected at all. A push, a shove, a hit. Anything but that. What came over her, she could never say, but she leaned in again, this time her lips moving against his a little more firmly, her hands pressed to his clothed chest. Her head spun and she could not believe that this was something she was doing. Kissing him. . . Naked. . .in a bathroom. . .What the Hell was even going on anymore. She wasn't sure if he'd return the kiss, she honestly doubted he would, but she at least gave it a shot.



Adam: Again, Adam observes Meg kind of distantly as she closes in, not inclined to stop her, but not really knowing what to do about it when she gets there. When she does, the kiss is still not returned exactly, but the long fingers against the back of her neck tighten convulsively and he forcibly ungrits his teeth. He tells himself to relax, that it's ridiculous to be freaking out over a kiss, but his body no longer recognizes him as its great dictator and stays just as tense. It's absurd. Adam knows logically this is not a violent attack. It's fucking infuriating, is what it is; his jaw clenches again and abruptly, the towel that Meg set aside flares up with a bright burst of flame. Adam doesn't even realize it happened until he notices the heat.



Meg: Meg pulled away as she felt the heat and couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, Sugar Cookie. If you didn't want me to put the towel on, you could have said as much. I don't think you needed to set it on fire to make your point. But I gotta admit, that's impressive." The demon grinned as she looked back at him. Kissing the tip of his nose, she stepped away to put the fire out. "This happen often? Is this what happens when you get. . .excited? Cause I think you should keep a fire extinguisher by the bed if so."



Adam: Even though the fire sort of rescued him from that awkward situation, Adam still turns to glare at the flaming towel, which just makes it burn more fiercely. "Sorry to disappoint, but it was unintentional." As nice as naked Meg is, he doesn't think he'd ever be able to relax around naked Meg, and that just isn't fair when he's not even planning to do anything with naked Meg. Slumping into the wall when she moves away, Adam crosses his arms which he hopes doesn't look defensive. "Well, it never happened before, so maybe you're right about me doing it wrong. Last time it surprised me, I went out earlier than usual and this guy purposely slammed shoulders with me. I looked back and his suit jacket went up." He's might be talking too much due to anxiousness, but at least it's an entertaining ramble.



Meg: The demon stepped back as the flames grew more. Shaking her head, she managed to bat the damn thing into the sink and turn the water on to douse the flames. "Should I take that as a compliment? Or should I just be worried all around. I have to say, this is one of the most. . .no, this is the most confusing and complicated situation I've ever been in. And I've been in some really fucked up situations, puddin'." The demon shook her head, it wasn't anything she wanted to elaborate on, that was for damn sure. "Why are you so damn adorable? Makes it harder to just walk away and keep running from the wannabe king."



Adam: Adam watches Meg handle the flaming remains of her towel, he finally breaks from the poker face when she speaks, a smirk curving up one side of his mouth. "I'm sure you have, so I think I'll take *that* as a compliment." Then sobering a little, he looks down at the floor despite the appealing way the dying flames light up Meg's still-nude skin. "It's pretty out there for me, too. It's like...uh. Well. I don't mean to make it so complicated. I was once actually a stable person, mentally and emotionally." He looks up briefly, those big blue eyes again, like he thinks she might not believe him otherwise. There's no answer to why he's so damn adorable, but the rest of that makes his eyes narrow. "You aren't jeopardizing your safety when you come here, are you? I guess the more times you do, the more likely someone'll notice."



Meg: She peeked into the mirror, she bit the inside of her cheek, Meg had seen the way he looked at her. "It's alright, cupcake. I'm not exactly helping keep things simple, now am I?" The demon sighed once the flames were completely out and turned to look at him, leaning her bare ass against the counter, arms crossed beneath her breasts. "Adam Milligan, are you actually worried about me? Because I can put your mind at ease. I have plenty of tricks that have kept me far ahead of Crowley. Do you know how long he's been after me?" Meg had lost track herself of how long it had been. But it was a good question. She'd managed so far. She was perfectly capable of handling herself. But it was cute that he cared. Her eyes traveled down and then straight back up as she stifled a laugh, biting the inside of her cheek. Oh my. "Guess you like the view then?"



Adam: "Oh, you definitely add some spice, doll." She's moving again, facing him, so looking at the floor is probably a good idea. Getting the fuck out of this tiny bathroom would be a better one, but for some reason, he's not. "I'm not worried. I'm sure you can handle yourself, but everyone slips up sometimes. It'd be dumb to...needlessly risk yourself." Adam might be focused on the floor, but he can still see her peripherally, so the way her eyes move along his body, the way she refrains from laughing, are still noticable. For that question, he picks his head up and gives her (her face only, this time) a Look, letting it last a few more seconds than necessary before answering. "Anyone would, Meg. Now...I'm gonna go get drunk." It takes a second to gather the willpower, but he does finally push off the wall and return to the main room.



Meg: Brows raised, she watched his retreating form. So . . .what was she supposed to with that exactly? Frowning, she followed him out. "Save some booze for me. . . " What the Hell was even happening anymore. "So what's your deal? Your plan really. Are you going to spend your days wanking off--the wrong way might I add--and pretending other people don't exist. Maybe part of the reason you can't control your powers is sexual frustration, just as much as it is lack of discipline and focus. I'm not saying to jump my bones, use your psychic friend, find someone. Get that sexual tension out, ease your headaches, and get a handle on your shit. You can't tell me that I'm not making sense, baby doll." She leaned one bare shoulder against the wall as she watched him.



Adam: Unholy mother of fuck, she followed. Still naked, still there. Collapsing onto the edge of his bed, Adam snags one of those little bottles of liquor but doesn't uncap it immediately. He tries to look attentive instead of look like he's slowly going crazy(er) through that whole spiel, taking an audible breath when she's done. "No, you are." Again he has to lower his head, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. His headache isn't that bad anymore, but this position helps a little with the frustration. "And, you're right, I hadn't really planned ahead. Back when I was resurrected and lied to and mounted by a really pissed off celestial being and thrown in a hole, I didn't consider how that might affect my future love life. I didn't think, hey, Adam, y'know, maybe being stuck in a metaphorical cage for thousands of years and being frequently decapitated, cannibalized, burnt to a crisp, frozen to death, and generally torn apart in thousands of different ways...maybe that will suck when you get back to earth and meet this really hot demon and you're afraid for her to fucking touch you because you can't remember the last time someone did it without causing unbelievable amounts of pain."



Meg: Meg frowned as she listened to him. All the horrible things done to him in the cage, it wasn't anything she hadn't experienced first hand. The difference was, she was able to put others on the rack to deal with it instead. Shaking her head, and even glossing over the fact that he called her hot, she went and climbed onto the bed. Moving slowly, she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him gently. "I'm sorry, Adam." Meg didn't know the last time she apologized, if ever. "What the Hell are you? Why do I want to fix you rather than break you more than you already are?" The demon sighed, pressing her forehead to the crook of his neck. "You'll get there. You'll get past it. You're a scary ass mother fucker. This is one more thing you'll get the hang of. But I think we should really get you drunk, pumpkin." She didn't take the time to put on clothes, she didn't care about it and wasn't trying to tease him with her undressed state. Meg just wanted to hug him. Of course, it could be that she also didn't want him upset enough to break anything else, like her, on accident.



Adam: Maybe Adam would have coped better if he'd had the chance to turn the tables; maybe he *will* cope better when he gets that chance. He can call himself a demon, and even believes he is one more than not, but whatever slim sliver of humanity there is left...it's a bitch. Feeling Meg move onto the bed, he braces himself for the expected touch, although he can't yeild to it. There's a laugh for the question of 'what are you' since their minds were on the same course, apparently, but it's a shaky laugh and it dies quick. "Your guess is as good as mine." He isn't sure about the scary motherfucker thing, but the drunk thing he can endorse wholeheartedly, so he straightens up some and uncaps the bottle to take a long drink. It would have been worse if she'd dismissed his rant or laughed at it, but right now Adam's wishing he hadn't gone into it at all.



Meg:The demon sighed as she ran a hand over his arm. Her state of undress was the last thing she was worrying about. "You gonna be alright, puddin' pop? I would hate to have broken you already. . ." Meg sat back a bit, head tilted as she watched him. Why did she even care? Was she just bored out of her damend mind? Lonely? Was it because he was special and Lucifer's protege? Whatever it was, it was throwing her off. "That gonna be enough booze or should I go find you a liquor store to drink?"



Adam: For that, Adam manages a somewhat more natural-sounding laugh, turning his head to the side to look back at her. "Don't worry, kittenface. Whatever breaks me probably won't be you. No offense; I'm sure you're really good at it." Meg, maybe especially naked Meg, is definitely a threat to his peace of mind, but in an infinitely more pleasant way that most of the other people/creatures his fate is bound up with. "I don't know...how many bottles did you pack?"



Meg:Rolling her eyes, she scooted to the other side of the bed and pulled the bag up. "Including the one in your hand? Ten. Think it will be enough?" Crawling back over, she left the bag within his reach and brushed a hand over his shoulder. "You really do need a hobby besides blowing shit up with your head and drinking. And that's coming from me. I think besides knife throwing, you should really learn the art of torture. It's not fair that only one of the plaid-wearing boy scout wannabes knows it. I think you should as well."



Adam: Adam hums thoughtfully through another swig, then shrugs. "Let's see. If not we'll go break into something." It's very noticeable, the way Meg is moving around all cautious and careful (at least, by Meg standards); he knows why she's doing it, Hell, he practically asked her to. But it's a little much being treated like he might literally break. So Adam steels his resolve and reaches up quick as thought when that hand brushes his shoulder, folding it in his own larger one and giving the demon a particular look. "Seriously, Meg." He squeezes the hand for emphasis before drinking more, but he doesn't release it. "Can I not try sculpting? Take up watercolor, maybe, or make one of those intricate dioramas with the tiny running train?"



Meg:The demon couldn't help but laugh. "Think you could explode marble? Might be interesting to see it burst into flames if I managed to give you a hard-on. Again." Meg chuckled and laid her head on his shoulder. "I wonder if you had sex, good sex, you would burn the hotel to the ground. . ." Her eyes drifted towards the ceiling as she thought about it and couldn't help but laugh. "Guess it's a good thing you don't wanna find out, huh, pickle pie?"



Adam: Starting to respond, Adam rolls his eyes at the direction Meg takes that, but really it's better than her trying badly to walk on eggshells or something. "I think you've got a skewed vision of what I'm actually capable of. It's more frustration in general than specifically sexual frustration that causes that. Although...no, I really haven't had the opportunity to find out." Craning his head around to look at her more directly, he arches an eyebrow. "Wouldn't you be pissed if I like, accidentally burned all your hair off?"



Meg:"I have a theory. I think my hair might be safe from you if I'm the reason you're setting shit on fire. Before, in the bathroom, you didn't set me or anything near me on fire. You set the towel on the counter on fire." Meg chuckled and ran her hands over his shoulders. "Why? Thinking of doing something to get yourself all . . .frustrated?" she teased, her nose nearly touching his as she brought her head closer. "Of course I know the answer to that. It's a resounding 'no'." A dry chuckle escaped as she leaned back and looked around for her shirt she discarded earlier. "I like to air dry. Pretty sure I'm dry now. Though you could always double check for me, pumpkin."



Adam: Adam narrows his eyes like he's considering that. "Yeah, but you were wet." And then: "From the shower. I mean...y'know what, I'm not even gunna try with that one." He shakes his head, almost smiling, returning to the bottle when Meg moves away. He's glad he's not expected to answer that question. But then, because he's a total masochist or whatever, he does turn to look her over as if assessing her dryness. "Near enough, I think. Do you want to borrow a shirt?" Because as enjoyable as the view is, this is going to remain awkward as long as Meg remains nude.



Meg:Meg laughed. "Sure. Can I wear the one you have on? I think it'd look better on me," she purred as she moved to stand in front of him, her legs brushing his. "How about it?" Hands on her hips, she looked down challengingly. She wasn't sure why she was enjoying this so much, and didn't realy want to look too closely at it, but she really was enjoying it. "Should I stay perpetually wet so you don't set me on fire. Because I think staying near you, that could happen very easily."



Adam: Watching warily as Meg closes in, Adam tries not to feel like the unfortunate gazelle on a Discovery channel documentary, but it's difficult when Meg is looking so leonine, that predatory glint in her eyes and the feline switch of her hips. Almost, he almost backs away, barely managing to maintain his position and look moderately unaffected. He sighs exagerratedly for that request, looks to the side, then reaches back with his free hand to grab the collar of his t-shirt and pull it off. At least she'll be somewhat clothed. Offering the article of clothing to her, Adam arches an eyebrow. "Sounds like you're safe either way, then."



Meg:Meg was genuinely shocked that he had given her the shirt she asked for. Laughing, she took it, her hand brushing his before she lifted it and slipped it on. She couldn't help herself, her eyes sweeping over him. "You always manage to surprise me, sweet cheeks. However do you manage that?" Patting him on the head, she moved to sit beside him on the bed. Of course, this being Meg, sit isn't the right word. Lounged? Curled against his side, she looked at the pieces of glass. "You're trying too hard. It's why you're getting such a headache. Are you being rushed to perfect this? Because that's not exactly the best way to learn to control powers you've never had before."



Adam: Really, Adam is beyond being modest about his own nudity - especially only partial nudity - after being flayed to the bone a few times, bare skin isn't such a big deal. "I don't know. Maybe your expectations are skewed." When Meg joins him on the bed, Adam takes a moment to adjust, then flops backwards into a supine position. There's something like a laugh when she changes subjects, but it isn't a very amused noise. "Rushed? You could say that. Patience is not a big part of His character."



Meg:"What sort of expectations should I have, sugar lips?" Meg watched him, thought about cuddling against him and decided against it as she turned and leaned against the headboard. Red chipped nail polish decorated her toes as they brushed his hip, her arms crossing over her chest. "Rushing you isn't going to get it done. If you could show him small steps, maybe he'd back off. You also can't rush yourself. You're gonna end up doing more harm than good. Not good. . .you know what I mean." She couldn't believe she was giving him advice, advice to try and make it easier on him. What the Hell was going on?




Adam: Adam merely shrugs for that question, because he honestly has no answer. Even he doesn't know what to expect from himself. His head drops to the side to watch Meg as she talks, smirking wryly. "You might make a good therapist after all." There's a little shake of the head before he goes on. "It's not all Him, I guess. He said I was hopeless, so I doubt He's expecting leaps and bounds. But it's fucking *frustrating* you know? I can feel it, I know it's there, but I can't get it to do what I want. It's like trying to siphon wet cement through a straw." He taps his sternum to indicate the It he refers to, whatever strange power that is.



Meg:"I stand by my statement. You need to get laid. You need to get all this frustration out of you. Frustration with him, with yourself. You need outlets. And from the state you were in when I arrived, you need more than one. Sex, throwing knives, torture, knitting. Hell, go stand on the roof and sing the Star-Spangled Banner while standing on one foot covered in nothing but whip cream. Just find outlets or you're never going to figure this out and you're going to end up letting your powers loose when you really don't want to." Meg took a breath and looked at him, her serious expression fading away as she dissolved into laughter. "Fuck you. I'm not a therapist. I would just be. . . Hmm. . .Bored as shit without you around. If you get so backed up with your powers that you make your head explode, Lucifer will be disappointed and I'm without someone to bug the shit out of." The demon rolled her eyes. "Just find something to do. Want me to go see if your prophet friend is up for mussing the bed? Or should I see if I can find a nice little street walker. Have a preference on hair color?"



Adam: "I already agreed with your statement!" Adam realizes he's raising his voice too much; it isn't anger, just...well, more of that frustration. He's not worried about Meg getting scared off, but he doesn't want to deal with noise complaints from the front desk. Wonder how many of those Lais gets on an average week. The newly proposed hobbies make Adam grin, rolling his head to face the other direction until it fades some. He might have commented on being used to alleviate boredom, but Meg keeps going, and what she keeps going with makes him narrow his eyes some. After a moment of silence he faces her again, still squinting. "You must really think I'm inexperienced if you think I'm about to take you up on *that* offer. I know a trick question when I hear one, kittenface. I'm not interested in getting to know any little street walkers - *or* Lais." She's cute enough, but mildly terrifying in a body-builder sort of way, and how weird would it be for her to read his thoughts during sex?



Meg:Meg looked at him with her head tilted. Confusion was written all across her face. "Trick question? How? I don't understand how that was a trick question, Adam. I asked you your preference on bed partners so we can try and loosen you up a bit. Why would I trick you? I'm trying to help you. And trust me, that's not my fucking M.O. So how about you stop thinking the worst about my fucking motives and help me figure out how to keep you from exploding your own damn head? Huh?" Why was she getting frustrated? Oh yeah. Because the one damned time she was trying to help someone other than herself, she was being doubted. Made sense. Who in their right mind would trust a demon after all? Didn't mollify her one bit though.



Adam: Adam looks confused, himself, eyebrows creeping further towards his hairline the longer Meg goes on. He almost interrupts, a couple times, but he's learned by now not to bother responding until she winds down. And even when she does, he blinks a few times, turning to look back up at the ceiling. "I wasn't, thinking the worst of your motives. That wasn't my point. I just meant...I thought I made it pretty clear I don't...oh, fuck it." Reaching up, he scrapes both hands over his scalp to push his hair back, squinting his eyes shut. This whole thing isn't one of the difficulties he expected to face when he found himself back on earth with vague plans of revenge. "My point *was* if I'm not fucking you, I definitely don't want to be fucking some other random person. Whatever hair color they've got." Adam usually wouldn't put it that bluntly, nor with such crass terminology, but that little tirade was a sharp reminder that Meg is absolutely nothing like the girls he's used to.



Meg:Eyelashes fluttered rapidly as she tried to think about what he had just said. "Wait. What?" The confused demon looked at him and tilted her head once more. That sure as fuck mollified her. "So I'm. . .Sugar Cookie, are you saying I'd be your first choice? Cause that's just. . . wow. I don't think I've ever been so flattered." She couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped. This was bizarre. That was for damn certain. But in her own sick way, Meg loved every second of it. He was a mystery and she wanted to solve it. What else did she have to do with her time right now?



Adam: Opening his eyes again, Adam looks to the side without turning his head, once again bemused. He tries to gauge how patronizing she's being but, despite that chuckle, she actually seems sincere. "Yeah...you are." Adam thought he'd already proven that, but apparently not. Turning that around in his mind for a moment, the kid eventually snorts amusement. "Leave it to you to be flattered by that sorta proclaimation. Guess I can throw away all those sonnets I was writing." Hauling himself into an upright position, he drains the rest of the liquor from the current plastic bottle.



Meg:"Oh, Sugar Cookie. I don't do poetry. I'm a put up or shut up kind of girl." The demon gave him a wink and had another bottle levitating within reach for him when he wanted another. Leaning forward, she kissed his cheek and patted the top of his head. "You sure you're not a virgin?" she teased. Meg couldn't help herself, and Adam should probably know that by now. "I kind of like that whip cream idea, the more i think about it. Wanna give it a go? You could sing 'I kissed a Boy' instead. Or fucking 'YMCA'. There's so many songs you could choose after all."



Adam: "Then I guess I'll be shutting up now." Grabbing the bottle from the air without even thinking how weird that is, because it's just par for the course now, Adam only twitches a very little for that kiss and pat on the head. Maybe she had to be extra-patronizing now to make up for the moment of weakness before. But he still rolls his eyes for that question while he pulls himself farther up the bed, dropping his back against the headboard. "Think I'll pass. Crawling around rooftops and belting out songs I don't know is a little too Jim Morrison for me, whether there's whip cream involved or not."

He takes a more leisurely sip of liquor, then retrieves one of the pink throwing knives from the nightstand. If he can't take one part of advice, maybe trying another will keep Meg from teasing him more about his non-existent sex life. "You're supposed to hold it by the point, right?" Adam inspects the blade curiously before pinching the tip between thumb and forefinger the way he'd seen performers do, some lifetime or other; mimicking the short but forceful flick he'd also observed on that distant occasion, he releases the knife to somersault through the air then come to an abrupt stop, quivering with its point embedded in the wall.



Meg: Meg rolled her eyes. She knew which option he'd take. For some reason, the demon still bet on virgin. Or at least not having had a good lay before. It was just too much fun to tease him about. Then suddenly he was picking up one of the knives and she watched him closely. She nodded in answer to his question but she knew he didn't really need her to answer it. As the blade quivered, she felt her eyes grow wide. "Wow. Virgin's got skill with a blade after all. Should I watch my back, front, or side? Or am I safe from having one of the gifts I gave you, imbedded in my spine?" Why snark him once he had shown he could throw a knife? Because she wouldn't be Meg otherwise. "What other skills do you have hidden away? Can you pole dance? Seriously. Can you hang upside down on a pole and do the Macarena?"



Adam: Even though she calls him a virgin again, Adam grins at that reaction, and probably a little bit because he's pleased with himself. "Shut up. That was beginners luck and you know it." The continued questions turn the grin to a laugh, and the kid turns his head to hide it against his shoulder somewhat, trying to speak past the mirth. "Can *you*? That sounds like a skill worth learning." There is no way to keep a straight face while he says that, but damn him if he doesn't attempt it, biting at his lower lip until the grin inevitably makes it impossible.



Meg:Meg laughed hard at the mental image of Adam, with his usual face, covered in nothing but whipped cream, in stripper heels, hanging upside down and furiously dancing the Macarena to a sped-up version of the song. Tears streamed down as she held her sides. "Actually, I can. I got bored and decided to learn tricks on a pole. I can flip and do all sorts of fun things. Why? You wanna watch me sometime? There are those at-home poles you can get after all. If not, I'm sure I could find a club, murder all the patrons then strip down and dance naked in the blood." The way she said it was as if she had done it before and it was the most natural thing in the world. . .Maybe she had. Not that she'd say. . .Maybe.



Adam: There's no telling what Meg's thinking of, but her hilarity is contagious, and Adam has to lean away farther and cover his face so that he can't see her laughing before he can rein in his own. Of course, as soon as he's got it under control, she gives him a new reason to hide his face. "Jesus Christ, Meg. You can't just tell me these things!" Right now, it's interesting and a little comical. As long as he doesn't think about it too much. But later...? Shaking his head to himself, Adam straightens up, the back of his head meeting the headboard with a thunk.



Meg: Meg loved that he had joined in on her laughter. And his reaction to her telling him about stripper poles and dancing on them and the such. . .well she couldn't let it lie now. "I also give damn good lapdances. Would you like to see?" Of course she could. Chewing her lower lip, she turned her head to look at him. It was way too much fun, playing with him like this. "Oh no. You hit your head. Want me to kiss it better? I'm good at playing nurse. I have a few costumes stashed away. What do you like? Cotton? Vinyl? Leather? Silk?"



Adam: That question doesn't make the predicament easier, either, and Adam makes a strangled noise in his throat, a mixture of undeniable interest, amusement, and vexation. Even though he's the target of all this teasing, he finds himself grinning irrepressibly again. "No, I was just hoping I could hit it hard enough to knock myself out for a few hours." He doesn't lift his head, but looks down and to the side at Meg, resolutely refraining from picturing any of that. "I see now I was wrong about the pet names. This is your personal brand of torture, isn't it? You're fucking diabolical." Adam doesn't actually sound like he minds a whole lot; he realizes he's being sort of infuriating, too, but it's not like he does it on purpose.



Meg: Meg resisted the urge to do something really crazy. "And why do you wanna knock yourself out for a few hours?" The demon turned so that she was laying with her head near his legs and her bare legs and feet beside his head. She had a much better view and . . .so did he. "How is this torture? Oh, sugar lips, I will definitely need to show you torture sometime. How about that God awful Justin Bieber chick? I can duct tape earphones to a demon's head and not let them smoke out and make them listen to her on a loop. That is torture." She was well aware what she wasn't wearing under his shirt, causing her to bite the inside of her cheek in an attempt to keep from laughing or saying anything else. Torture. That was the subject she should stay on. "Or those weird ass Twilight movies? I could use a fishing hook and line and keep a demon's eyes open and force them to watch those continuously until they beg for death."



Adam: He shakes his head, rotating it back and forth on the narrow top of the headboard, because he's pretty sure she knows why he wants to knock himself out. Not that he actually does; he's got plenty of time for unconsciousness when he doesn't have such an entertaining, if infuriating guest. Picking his head up warily when she starts moving around, Adam opts for returning to drinking instead of focusing on the new vantage. It's nice, but on the other hand, this building is old, the timbers would probably catch fire far too easily. The proposed tortures are more comical than anything, which is a relief, but he widens his eyes to look appropriately horrified. "Now, that...I didn't think even you would stoop *that* low. Unbelievable." No, this positioning is not going to work, not if he wants to keep any measure of sanity. Adam hooks the heels of his boots on the bottom of the bed to drag himself down the mattress, until his head is on level with her stomach, long legs folding up at the knee.



Meg: "Didn't like the view? Or did you love it?" the demon teased as she turned to lay on her side, one hand propped under her head. "So you're not afraid of those means of torture. I'm sure Lucifer had all kinds of fun stuff for you. My usual means wouldn't frighten you. If you were a play mate, I'd find your base level, find the first thing that gets a reaction from you and go off that. Only because you have previous experience being tortured. I'd have to work doubly hard with you, stud muffin. All this is theoretical of course. I think to torture you, I'll install a stripper pole, cover myself in whipped cream and whatever other toppings you like then show you my tricks. Would that do it? Would that be a good form of torture?"



Adam:Adam gives her a pointed look for that question, but it's followed by a little crooked grin. "You know the answer to that." He folds an arm beneath his head to prop it up, having neglected to drag a pillow with him. Typically, the mention of Lucifer causes his expression to sober, causes his face to become Face, and his eyes shift to the ceiling. For the most part he just lets her words drift pass without catching on to any of them for close inspection. Is she trying to make a point, about how off he is when he calls what she's doing torture, to light up the difference? As if he doesn't know he's using the term in an entirely different way. So when she returns to discussing the other, the not-torture torture, he tries to ease the sudden tension in his muscles by force of will. "That...that would be much to be preferred, yeah."



Meg: "Oh do I? How would I possibly know the answer to that? You do blow so hot and cold that I don't know which was is up. I'll take it that you enjoyed to view, just so I don't take a blow to my ego." Meg grinned at him. "I'm sure it would. Well what do you know about torture? I did tell you I'd teach you more about it. I'm sure it's a tool you should definitely have in your arsenal. I'm sure the Big Guy would be very impressed if you did." One hand slowly reached out, playing gently through his hair. "So what kind of girls are you used to exactly? Because if they never offered to buy you a hooker or bring you a demon to torture, you were with the wrong damned girls."



Adam:"The blowing cold thing only happens because I have to freeze over to prevent immolation." Adam returns her grin with a faint smirk, then shakes his head as she goes on, gaze gravitating back to the ceiling. "That's not a conversation I wanna get into at the moment. For now, suffice it to say that I haven't ever actually tortured anyone. All my knowledge of it comes from the other side." Seeing the movement of that hand, he follows its path from the corner of his eyes without realizing it, but at least he doesn't cringe when it gets to its destination. "Lately, I'm not used to any girls. But I don't think I was ever with a *damned* girl at all. Not saying they were all vanilla, but...well, no, none of them did those things. But...one of them gave me a puppy once." As if that's in any way comparable.



Meg: "Ooh. Well I'll take the blowing cold thing as a compliment then." Meg enjoyed the feel of his hair between her fingers. "Well you still aren't with a damned girl, technically. But you're close, love. We're half-naked in bed together. A puppy though? Was it a doberman at least? Or a rottweiler? Something fierce-looking?" The demon chuckled and curled her body closer, gently curling his hair around her fingers the best she could, more just twisting her fingers through his hair. "I think if you were ever really with me, you'd see that those girls were in fact very vanilla. But you'll obviously get to maintain that delusion for a while." Patting the top of his head, she took her hand back and straightened herself out. "So what kind of movies do you actually like?"


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