Guess My Name

Maybe not his place to ask. Not as if he hadn't been in a similar situation. Things seeming to be improving before the proverbial drink is thrown and smashed at his screen.

He used to Know more. Right then, all he knew, is that him and Stan would continue to be locked in orbit for better or worse or stasis if nothing at all.

Eli the gravity well at the center of their endless revolving impacts and spin aways.

He knew, to some extent, that hurt Rook and Vox to watch and tolerate.

"YESCH! YEAH!!!"

Very quick answer to whether it mattered, and then decided to finally climb back down so he could stand on two feet and look at him. He stayed close, chest to chest and on tippy toes for a moment as he gripped Lucifer's arms and peered at the top of his head. Seeing into the ether, so to say, with an intensity in his host's eyes that was ancient and sharp.

"You're much more... muchly. Somehow. But not, at the same time. You remind me of--"

He had to stop himself. Not even wanting to speak the same. It wasn't a perfect comparison anyway, and he knew Lucifer would immediately correct him like an annoying piece of shit, pointing out all the obvious differences between who he was now, who he'd been before he'd fallen, and the eternally absent being he'd come from.

Though the intensity coming off Stan and the very incessant distraction that kept his concentration from finishing on the bit that would have 'combed' his hair back into proper shape. Stan was also always cold to the touch. It seeped through his clothes easily. Leeched the human warmth out of his host in places they made contact. That grip was also gunna bruise, no doubt.

Fine hairs started to prickle on the back of his neck. Stan was right. He didn't like that comparison. Implied was enough to get him baring teeth and getting more into Stan's face back. "You can't break me twice."

He couldn't say people never change. They do. Maybe not their cores, the parts that hold the fundamentals. Like Lucifer's hard head. But people only stay the same when they make the, sometimes deeply subconscious, effort to never change.

He just...thought they were apart from that. He was a Role. A Mantle. Title. Concept. Idea. Fixed. Him and Stan. Somehow a little to the left of Change. Glancing a relationship with it at best.

Then Things Happened.

For everyone. Vox, too.

Him and uncertainty were not good bed fellows. It was going to plague him until he made some kind peace with it. He was, somewhat, slowly. There was just more to deal with, he felt, that he was actively ignoring. Hoping, silently, that it would go away.

It was probably best nobody (or their mothers) heard it anyway.

But when he was finally wrung out as much as he could, and when he'd basically destroyed his host's vocal chords for the millionth time and had to use some internal energy to repair them again, he noticed that Lucifer was just. Watching him.

Passively.

So climbed up on him, wrapped arms around his shoulders, wrapped legs around his waist, opened his mouth up bigger than a human's probably should, and closed it on the top of Lucifer's head. Right where his metaphysical halo would have been.

And talked with his mouthful.

EXCUSE--

"Excuse me???" He was not prepared to be treated like a jungle gym today. Nor to be additionally treated like some kind of push pop. Ugh, ew. His hair is going to he moist after this. Annyoed.

Having Stanley ask him about a 'difference' sort of hit a soft (sore) spot in his ego he'd been wrestling with lately. Quietly. To himself. He frowned at him.

"Does it matter?" He was still Lucifer, it seemed. Mantle not trying to scurry off for a replacement or the like.

Lark grimaced slightly. Did he want to dig into the difference between breeding kink and pregnancy kink? Not particularly. Did he want to dig into the fact that specifically breeding kink being said in relation to himself was uncomfortable? No! It was his own fault for referencing his own body like this anyways!

We're just making jokes!

Cleared up the grimace, instead giving a silly lil snap.