#char: lilith

                         Perhaps it’s a hiss of air, perhaps a sigh — a wisp of breath leaves him, pale fingers brushing dark waves away from obscuring his features. Inevitable, but hoping too much had been his weakness before, and it remains so — he chooses instead to stop focusing on the crumbling state of the underworld.

                         [ text || 10:14 ] [ to: lily ]

Nevermind --

                         [ text || 10:15 ] [ to: lily ]

Just. Can you see a clock tower?

                         [ text || unsent ] [ to: lily ]

Did they even have them back then?

                         [ text || 10:17 ] [ to: lily ]

Go there. I'll come and get you.

                         [ text || 10:18 ] [ to: lily ]

                         [ text || 23:58 ] [ to: lily ]

apparently red hair means no soul on here

                         [ text || 00:01 ] [ to: lily ]

on earth i mean

                         [ text || 00:02 ] [ to: lily ]

                         Illumination from the screen lights up a corner of the room, unfamiliar buzzing alerting the being to someone trying to contact him.

                                                  The ensuing silence shatters as a noise of frustration escapes through slightly parted lips — not at the sender, but at their words. Look closely; his eyes are barely readable in the semi-darkness of the back room, but perhaps they hold concern.

                         [ text || 10:01 ][ to: lily ]

If you insist upon it, of course.

                         [ text || 10:02 ][ to: lily ]

Should I take that to mean what I think it does--?

                         [ text || 10:04 ][ to: lily ]

            "..You—"

                         Nails digging into his palm, he glared.

                    “You’re lying."

        (He would have noticed, would he not? —

                    Perhaps the latter was true.)

                                       Grey eyes shut, for a second, in something like frustration.

          Nothing to be done.

               It had been some time since he'd been down to Hell --

                         -- needless to say, he hadn't seen Lilith in a while. Understandable, he supposed -- she was only human, and the demons revolting wouldn't spare her. They couldn't afford to. Running was the obvious option.

       (He did worry, though -- unneeded as it was. Lilith could protect herself, perhaps even better than he could.)

                                         Certain effects of ruling Hell when you were human involved becoming far more good at fighting than necessary for most.

                                    So, as it may be, coming home to a blood soaked Lilith on the sofa in the back room was something of a welcome sight.

                   -- He knew (hoped) it wasn't her blood, anyway. Discordia was by her side, as always.

                         Throwing his coat over the chair behind the counter, a somewhat concerned look grew on his face. Nevermind the blood on the furniture. He could get it out later --

                                     she was far more important.

                        "Are you alright?"

      If it turned out that she was not --