( by comparison, luci looks like a divorced father picking up kids who hate him from grade school, or adam sandler. basketball shorts and a too large shirt, stretched out at the collar. possibly stained with black ink, but being that the material is black, it's difficult to tell. tilting his head to look at danny, lucifer eyes him up and down, as if a will to live will just pop out of him somewhere, like a gopher wanting to get thwacked. surely there's some of it somewhere. no one who wants to die so much would still be alive. certainly no one in boots like that.

leaning in, he ducks too close into danny's personal space, and sniffs him at the neck. )

You smell human.

( humans don't pop back up once you kill them. demons do. mint leaves do. angels do. god probably does. little boys? not so much. )

I don't want you dead. If you have to know, it's a waste of blood. ( donning an expression close to shy, he reaches a hand out to palm the back of danny's head comfortingly, a priest to a sinner's confession. he has soft, thick hair — a good contrast to the claw that suddenly juts out of lucifer's thumb, pressed up against danny's cheek. despite the sharpness of it, it's not at all a threat. luci looks at him almost affectionately, the corner of his mouth quirking. ) Be the virgin for me now, lily? You'll need to convince the dirt.