"Allow me."

A graceful hand reached over his shoulder and drew a complicated design on the doorframe, too quickly for Neil's all-too-human eyes to follow. Immediately the noise vanished, and the door seemed to grow shut. Blowing out a relieved breath, he turned to face the room's other occupant and offered him a slightly sheepish smile. "Sorry about dragging you in on this."

"Don't be," Lucifer said, holding out half a pack of English Ovals. "Cigarette?"

"Please," Neil said fervently, digging out half a pack of hotel matches. Lucifer handed him the pack with a bow and a faint smile, then wandered back over to sit on the foot of the bed, idly flipping through the channels. After a hesitant moment, Neil joined him, cigarette in his mouth.

The channel roulette stopped, and Lucifer muted the television with one impatient snap of the remote. The characters of 'Roseanne' moved across the screen, mouthing words and miming actions, as Lucifer slid up to recline next to Neil on the bed.

Darlene came and went across the screen, whatever load of sarcasm she had to deliver hidden by the muting. Hypnotized, the Devil and the Englishman watched the silent comedy for a moment. Finally, clearing his throat, Neil offered, "She's not all that pretty, is she?"

"I don't know," said Lucifer. "Certainly she's not beautiful, but there's something about her, something slight and angry and cramped... yes, I would--how would I say it, in your little books?--have congress with her."

"Really?"

"Mm."

Emboldened, Neil said, "How about with me?"

The silence was absolute. Then, with an airy shrug, Lucifer said, "You, of all people, should know what you're getting into." Simultaneously they stubbed out their cigarettes and reached for each other in the flickering television-lit dark.

Five minutes later their intertwined bodies rolled over on the remote, and their frantic gropings were narrated thereafter by a family of flat nasal whines and a laugh track.