Poking holes in arrogant people is one of Toby's favorite pastimes, but whether he'll be able to manage it when he actually sees Lucifer is another story entirely. Dorian Gray and his ego is one thing, but the King of Hell is quite another.
"I like the good stuff as much as the next man, but I'd rather take the time to enjoy it if I'm going to drink it. There's no real point in drinking something good when I'm going to feel as physically miserable as I do on the inside." Okay, that's oversharing, but he's really starting to feel that shot Beelzebub gave him and the first half bottle of his cheap whiskey right now. Words will start to flow even more easily as the night goes on.
"That's not a terrible deal if you all get along." He's not sure he'd take a deal like that, but he's also not in the best spot right now. A lot of things that would've sounded great to him a few years ago, when his soulmate was at his side, sound like shit right now. Recovering from heartbreak and upset takes a while.
He pauses suddenly in his thoughts as the scent of something simultaneously fresh and decaying hits him. It's odd to smell the freshness of spring paired with the death and destruction of fire, but it somehow makes sense, too. That's what Lucifer is, yeah? Destruction and creation together, married in a single being that could shape reality as they chose.
Holy shit. He has to see this.
Despite his cockiness when texting with Lucifer or in talking with Beelzebub, Toby is wholly unprepared for the sight that follows the fallen angel entering the bar. No person as well versed and obsessed with the music of the 70's and 80's as him wouldn't know that face. The vampire sputters and stammers out a few words of utter nonsense as he stumbles to his feet, a hand raised to point at the four-winged angel as he completely ignores whatever was said to him from his companion at the table.
"You--" Uh, words got hard again. Somehow. Maybe staring down David fucking Bowie is doing that to him. Toby's jaw hangs open for a moment longer before he trips over his own feet and falls to his knees in front of Lucifer. The view is equally amazing from here.
"I'm actually meeting my god right now," he finally manages after a few seconds of staring up at Lucifer. "Bowie... Holy shit. If I weren't drunk I could tell you how many concerts I charmed my way into or jumped fences to see, but... it's a lot. Almost as many as the Madonna concerts I got into."
So much for his plan taking down Lucifer's ego. That may have to wait a few, uh, years. Decades. Or something. Because there is idol worship happening right now and it's not about to stop for a long time.
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"I like the good stuff as much as the next man, but I'd rather take the time to enjoy it if I'm going to drink it. There's no real point in drinking something good when I'm going to feel as physically miserable as I do on the inside." Okay, that's oversharing, but he's really starting to feel that shot Beelzebub gave him and the first half bottle of his cheap whiskey right now. Words will start to flow even more easily as the night goes on.
"That's not a terrible deal if you all get along." He's not sure he'd take a deal like that, but he's also not in the best spot right now. A lot of things that would've sounded great to him a few years ago, when his soulmate was at his side, sound like shit right now. Recovering from heartbreak and upset takes a while.
He pauses suddenly in his thoughts as the scent of something simultaneously fresh and decaying hits him. It's odd to smell the freshness of spring paired with the death and destruction of fire, but it somehow makes sense, too. That's what Lucifer is, yeah? Destruction and creation together, married in a single being that could shape reality as they chose.
Holy shit. He has to see this.
Despite his cockiness when texting with Lucifer or in talking with Beelzebub, Toby is wholly unprepared for the sight that follows the fallen angel entering the bar. No person as well versed and obsessed with the music of the 70's and 80's as him wouldn't know that face. The vampire sputters and stammers out a few words of utter nonsense as he stumbles to his feet, a hand raised to point at the four-winged angel as he completely ignores whatever was said to him from his companion at the table.
"You--" Uh, words got hard again. Somehow. Maybe staring down David fucking Bowie is doing that to him. Toby's jaw hangs open for a moment longer before he trips over his own feet and falls to his knees in front of Lucifer. The view is equally amazing from here.
"I'm actually meeting my god right now," he finally manages after a few seconds of staring up at Lucifer. "Bowie... Holy shit. If I weren't drunk I could tell you how many concerts I charmed my way into or jumped fences to see, but... it's a lot. Almost as many as the Madonna concerts I got into."
So much for his plan taking down Lucifer's ego. That may have to wait a few, uh, years. Decades. Or something. Because there is idol worship happening right now and it's not about to stop for a long time.