Figuring that blood and coffee weren't the best combinations, Lucifer subconsciously rubbed the blood furiously onto his already shitty, mucked-up jeans, until it began to hurt the cut beneath the blood, and all the red was cleared away from the wound.

He hadn't stumbled yet, but he was feeling like he was about to. He walked with his shoulders slumped, and head down, gazing down at his shuffling feet, which was really a habit he'd created over the last... who knows how long it'd been?

He blinked, green eyes looking up for once, at the still open coffee shop, and he stopped.

He held the door open for Morose, not daring interrupt the silence.

Morose followed the man through the door, placing a hand on the glass door even though it was being held open for him. As he entered he did notice that Lucifer had finally wiped away the blood. The scent of coffee overwhelms the average person when the first enter the shop. Think what it does to a Vampire's heightened senses.

He nodded his thanks as he pulled his wallet from his pocket, inheritance money. He'd inherited more then enough money for two or three people to live just short of comfortable for the rest of their lives.

"What do you want?"

Checks on him.

If it was enough for two or three people to live just short of comfortably, Morose must live a nice life... being a vampire and being depressed aside, of course. All right, so maybe not a nice life, but a moderately wealthy one, then...

Lucifer shuffled in, but there was a pause in his steps when he was asked a question.

"Just... coffee. Black. But I can pay for it..." He offered.

(Lucifer used to drink coffee with all that added junk like sugar and cream... but drinking it black meant it was stronger, and more likely to keep him awake.)

Morose nodded, went to the counter, and ordered the coffee from a girl who looked a little curious about his pale complexion but asked no questions. Good girl. He paid for the coffee's even though Lucifer had said he could pay. It wasn't polite to ask someone to a coffee shop and expect them to pay for themselves.

He'd made his way to a table and sat the coffee's down, then seated himself, his limbs too long to fit under the table without creeping all the way across to the other side. Instead he folded his tall frame into the chair sideways and crossed his legs out from under the table.

"Will you tell me how you did that," indicating with a nod of the head to Lucifer's hand.

To Morose, it might have seemed rude to not pay, but to Lucifer, it was perfectly normal to pay for himself. He could support himself, really. He worked, so there was no reason he couldn't pay for things like that, even if it was true that things like this...definitely burned a hole into his pocket change, or whatever you will.

Lucifer looked to the girl in silence, then to Morose as he walked back to a table, with a look on his face that said, 'you really didn't have to do that.' Lucifer wasn't used to people being polite to him, or offering a helping hand. He's rather... dysfunctional. He's been broken in so many ways that now he's just sort of a useless, bent doll.

He followed him to the table, however, and sat himself down, perhaps gracelessly.

"Oh," Lucifer said quietly, looking down at his hand, "that? Just an accident at work."

It really hadn't been an accident, though. Lucifer was mad at the guy who was supposed to be helping him, and brought his hand down on a sharp object on purpose. He's morbidly self-destructive like that.

"At work..."

Did anyone ever tell Lucifer that it's next to impossible to lie to even a vampire as young as Morose. It's like lieing to a lycanthrope. They can smell the lie and truth. Lucifer told the half truth, but he didn't just tell a half truth, he told a half lie too.

"Where do you work?"

((Grrr...it's short))

No, nobody ever told him that. But he didn't even know Morose was a vampire, so it wouldn't have mattered.

"I work at a carpentry site." He shrugged very gently and stared at the cup of coffee, and absently waved a hand under the table. "Carpenter, you know."

He held up his other hand and flexed his fingers so Morose could see them. One ws still slightly red, and there was a mark on it where he'd shot himself through the finger with a nailgun. "Nailgun accident."

A pause. "There's lots of dangerous things at work."

(Mah, mine's short too. >_<)

Nailgun accident.

Morose's face slipped. The utterly calm mask was gone now, replaced by a sullen, empty skeliton of a man. The expression matched the complete sadness in his blue eyes. It was the look of a man who knew he should have died but just keeps living.

The look only stayed breifly, like a flicker across his face, before he slapped the calm mask back over it. He grabbed onto that mask, held it like dear life. It kept him sane.

You see. He bit his only friend a few days ago. It was an accident but still he'd done what he'd promised wouldn't happen. At the hospital, he'd told the Doctor that it had been a nailgun accident. Jex had been shot twice with a nail gun.

"Yes. A lot of danger."

He frowned.

"You good?" At carpentry that is.

He put his hand back down, where it could rest safely under the table again, and where it was hidden from Morose's sight. Of course, all that wasn't covered by his sweatshirt sleeves were his fingers, but tht didn't mean he wasn't paranoid about people seeing his hands. They were mangled, and very horribly cut, on top of fresh bruises. That's what you get from hitting your hands into walls on purpose, though. You get bruises... Lucifer liked them, though. It was fascinating, almost... he just liked the pain. It was something to think about, to concentrate on, and to keep his mnd off of whatever else Lucifer's mind stirred up.

Lucifer didn't see Morose's mask of calm flicker for a minute. That's because, really, Lucifer hardly ever looked people in the eye, or at their face. He was too busy staring at the floor, or at his hands, or something else.He didn't like people looking him in the eyes... it was a pity, too. They were really beautiful, if one cared to study them.

"Hm? No, can't say I am." well, if you saw what work he did,one would have to disagree, but Lucifer, as some have noticed, has a very, very low self esteem.

Morose frowned.

“If you aren’t very good then why would anybody hire you?”

Intrusive little bastard. Or tall one.

He’d not touched his coffee yet. Didn’t plan on it. Vampire’s cannot ingest anything solid and preferred not to intake anything that wasn’t blood. It tends to have no effect. Morose had never been sadistic like Lucifer, enjoying bruising and beatings. Though he did often end the night in some sort of pain or blood. Until he became a fang face.

Perhaps a little too intrusive. Lucifer doesn't like intrusive people.

"Christ, I don't know." Lucifer looked away, at the counter, at something else. Just... away. Couldn't bring himself to actually look at Morose. It was bothering him, almost.

Lucifer was just self-destrucive, is all, but certainly not masochistic, or sadistic. Okay, so maybe he was masochistic, just a little bit, but give him a break... that comes from living such a crappy life.

He still didn't touch his coffee, either. It would be stupid to, since it would be insanely hot.

Morose looked away too, adverting his eyes onto the next table over. His fingers raised to trace the leather band around his neck again, resting over the wounds that had caused what he was. Nervous tic or just habit? I’d say habit. It’s almost impossible for Morose to be nervous.

“I just thought maybe you owe yourself a little more credit.”

Ok. It was almost an apology. But that was the closest Lucifer would get to one.

A dark chuckle. It sounded pretty empty and almost insane rather than humorous. Lucifer shook his head. "There's nothing to give myself credit for, honestly."

Lucifer was just a bit uncomfortable talking about himself. He found it annoying how people thought he was having a pity party for himself on occasions. No, he hated pity.

"But, not that it matters anyway."

A shrug.

"What's out here to do in the middle of the night that's so interesting..."

Not a question, just random thought. Lucifer wanted to know, because he found himself wandering aimlessly in the night so often... and almost wanted to know what drew him to the darkness. Maybe because it was comforting.

“Nothing is interesting about being out in the middle of the night alone.”

It’s his own opinion. What’s he doing out her alone at night if he didn’t like it then? It’s the only time he could go out at all, alone or not.

“It’s dangerous to be out here alone.”

Well, for most people it is. It isn’t for him. Not only is he stronger then humans, he can now cloud their minds, somewhat levitate (though he’s not got the hang of it), tell if your lieing, move faster then the eye, and on top of that he’s got fangs. Not that he’d ever use them purposefully on a person.

"Hn, I suppose, yeah." Not just he supposed. Lucifer knew it was dangerous, in all honesty. He would know. Being trashed about and raped and mugged and whatever else can get you not to travel out at night very quickly. But Lucifer was stupid, and this was when he had to come home from work. He liked the darkness, those facts aside.

"But, then why do it?" He asked, now gazing sullenly at the coffee, which was still cooling.

“Because...”

Morose paused to use the stir stick to stir around the contents of his untouched coffee. He looked at Lucifer as if evaluating him for a brief moment before returning his sad eyes to the table top.

“It’s the only time I get to myself.”

Pretty close to the truth. But still a lie none the less. He didn’t put forth much effort in making it sound like the truth. It sounded more like a general statement then a truth or lie.

“How about you?”

That made plenty of sense to Lucifer, and he wouldn't have cared if he were lying. It was a perfectly understandable answer. He nodded, slowly.

"I don't even know. I just like to, it makes me comfortble, to be alone. And it's... when I come home from work. I have no choice." Shrug. "I have to walk home, so I'm used to it by now."

(Ugh, it's short.)

“I see.”

A carpenter that doesn’t get off work until after dark. Dedicated. Morose had never been dedicated to much in his life. To finding Andrew and to healing Jex and making sure the man remained alive and well. It was his goal in life...er death.

“You must live pretty close then to walk home.”

Now he’s fishing for conversational topics.

Yes, dedicated, very dedicated. Though Lucifer is sometimes considered a threat when he works... two by fours, hammers, saws, drills, anything becomes a weapon with Lucifer's short temper. But not often does he actually try and use them...

"Not really," came Lucifer's reply, as he took the cupfilled with the warm substance and stared into it.

"I live a couple miles away. Just don't have a car."

"I see."

Shot down another conversation. Boy, neither of them are very social. But Morose is trying and poor Lucifer just doesn't have the heart to try. Instead, Morose settled for his favorite technique. And so far the one that got the best results.

He stopped talking all togather. He stired his untouched coffee and relished in the silence. He sat and let Lucifer know he wasn't really alone while assuring himself he wasn't alone either. Who needs conversation right?

Silence was what Lucifer generally dwelled in, lived off of, and heard most of. He was used to it, it was almost comforting... but somehow, in the presence of another living (or not so, in Morose's case) human being (or vampire), it wasn't so comforting.

So instead he chanced a sip of his coffee. Yep, definitely hot.

Lucifer didn't have the heart to talk to most people, sadly enough... which must have been annoying for Morose. But at least he had talked at all today.

It'd be nice to say that Lucifer realized he was being rude, but he didn't, which is unfortunate.

"So..." So what? Lucifer didn't know, but at least it was better than the silence that overwhelmed him now.

A person entered the shop, and a sound indicated it was so. Lucifer glanced off in their direction, because it was something to do.

His sad blue eyes turned to look at Lucifer when he said 'so'. Morose didn't pick up the line and continue talking. Instead, he let his gaze linger on Lucifer. A vampire's gaze (or at least most), whether or not they are trying to mesmorize you, seems to be one of the most penetrating gazes. The sadness in his eyes only emphisised this.

He realized he was staring when the chim indicated someone else entered. He turned his gaze to them instead. If he couldn't pick a conversational topic to keep the man's interest then he wouldn't make the effort at all. At least he'd gotten to guy off of the street and was putting a bit of caffin in his system.

Lucifer looked back, and surprisingly, into Morose's eyes. And he was almost chilled by what he saw. Seeming loneliness... or was that just his imagination? He chanced another sip at the hot beverage to take the edge off that sudden chill, or whatever it was, and stared at it (the cup).

"You don't talk much, do you?" Lucifer didn't blame him. He, himself, didn't talk a lot. And besides that fact, he was just a lone, skinny man... a stranger, at that. Not much to talk about with.

He shook his head again.

"Don't blame you."

“Not often.” Even for Jex. Words shouldn’t be wasted on idle chit-chat. Words are for getting to know another person, words are to write a blessing on a headstone and send a soul on it’s way. Words are to discuss serious problems or for the sake of someone’s happiness. Words shouldn’t be wasted on casual hello’s to strangers on the street that you’ll never see again and they won’t remember your face two hours later. Words aren’t for wasting.

“You don’t either.” It’s not a question. It’s almost an observation but more like a statement.

Well, there was Lucifer's half-hearted attempt at conversation, and it might as well have been flushed down the toilet. "What's the use?" He asked idly, staring at the floor. "Don't talk much, but never saw the reason to."

but never saw the reason to

"To waste words." He finished the thought. He frowned down at the murky brown drink called coffee and smiled faintly. It wasn't a happy smile, actually, it was rather sad. "You know, I never really did like coffee." Even as a mortal he'd purchased it and sat in front of it and barely drank any of it.

"Exactly." He nodded, slowly, thinking. He rested his cut and bruised hands around the hot coffee, to warm them. Lucifer gave an equally sad smile. He never really smiled happily. "Me either. Never drank it for the taste... just needed the caffeine... to keep me up."

Morose nodded. Only, he'd never drank it for caffine either. He'd just bought it to sit and stare. Mostly, that had been when he didn't have a home, after the orphanage. Buy coffee and they'll let you sit in the shop without fussing all night.

He looked up and across the table at the man's sad smile.

"Youi'll tell me it's none of my business, but, what's made you so..." He shrugged a boney shoulder. "empty?"

"What..., exactly?" He asked, staring down at the coffee, still, as if it was its fault for all of his life. As if it was the thing that made him feel so empty.

"You mean, other than everything?"

"Other then Everything,"

He repeated it like he was trying to get the feel for it.

"That's an awful lot of something. But yes, Besides everything, what exactly hurt you?"

It seems like a personal question but to Morose, it's just perfectly normal conversation.

"Not a specific something, but rather... a series of somethings. I don't... know what it was that made me snap. People died, people raped... people... hurt. I don't even know." He stared into the coffee more.

"I'm sorry."

Not because people died or were raped or because they were hurt. He was sorry that such a young guy could feel so empty. He was sorry that he had to feel it. Morose knew exactly how he felt. He wouldn't wish it on anyone.

"I know how you feel."

How many people say that? I can count on one hand how many people actually mean it.

Lucifer wouldn't wish it on anyone, either. Just the very thought of it might've made his blood boil. No... he couldn't wish this... thing on anyone. It was like an illness... the shell of an empty soul... and it still cracked.

"I'm sorry."

He was sorry? How should he know? Too many people were sorry, and not much else.

"I know how you feel."

That was the thing that made Lucifer look up.

"Than I'm sorry, too." Sorry that you have to know what being this empty feels like.

He nodded.

"I'm sure you are."

He knew too well how sorry everyone else in the world is. Sorry enough to say they're sorry but not enough to mean it. Not enough to try and help make things better. But Morose really was sorry. And he would take the time to make things better. If he had a mother, she might tell him to stop brining home strays. Jex had been a 'stray'. Now Lucifer was if he'd let Morose take care of him...or try.

"I can help."

Not a 'can i' but an 'i can'...if you let me.

He looked into Morose's eyes in silence for a few minutes, then down at his hands, which were still wrapped around the coffee. His hands were still cold, even if the coffee was warm.

He thought over it for a few minutes, then looked back up at the man... sorry, vampire.

"Can you? Why would you?"

Lucifer knew that concept, as well. That people were sorry. But they were always sorry, and pity or sympathy still didn't make it better. Especially when it wasn't meant. But Morose meant what he said...? He wanted to help? Why...? Because he knew how it felt and it was almost painful knowing someone else was like that? Or was it just because he could?

Both because he knows the pain and emptiness and because he can. But mostly, Morose would help because he'd known the pain and emptiness, the lonliness, and so had Jex. But when Morose found Jex, the pain, the emptiness, it all dulled. Ok, so the pain dulled and the emptiness went away. Morose had a reason to live, to take care of Jex. Jex had a reason to live, to keep living for Morose. To keep the man alive by staying alive himself. It was actually a working arangment. Neither of them were dead yet. Well. Neither of them were lying in a grave yet. Morose was technically undead.

"Because I can. Because I know how to."

A friend nags and fusses over you when they're worried or your depressed, like Ilea and Bo did over Lucifer. But a man just trying to help, he left you be. He made sure you got company when you wanted it, left you alone when you didn't. Ate when you were hungry and got out and moved around when you needed exercise. No friendship until it developed on it's own.