They were always good about never talking, never pushing, not whenever it was so incredibly necessary. They've had this problem the entire time they've known each other. They'd try to get better at it but always fell into the same ruts. It worked well for Lucifer. Perhaps too well. Why question something that seemed fine?

That sparks a flash of fury, finally, something more than this stone statue, at the very thought that Istredd could be considered a pet. No, wouldn't that have been so much easier to maintain if he had been? Lord, maybe Lucifer should have treated him like one.

"Oh, I've never given you what you needed?" A grating laugh. "Screw you, I've done my best, outside of what's normal, outside what makes sense! It's not within your little parameters of what Should Be, but don't have the nerve to act like I haven't tried! Forgive me for not having a manual in a language I can comprehend!"

If their very loud arrival has garnered any attention, none have dared to actually approach them. They're definitely Unsafe to approach, even if waiting may result in a dead body.

He seethes, hand held poised, all five fingers pressed together as though considering to crush Istredd's skull with a wrench of force. He wants to walk away. Leave them. Perhaps just a break. What is it? 'Some time apart'? Space. But that's what he wants, not Istredd, and isn't that the whole point here? It can't be about what only he wants.

And anyway, that's just cowardice. Old emotion, still gunked up in the circuits.

He doesn't need to be on a beach.

Their mixture of rage does a full course through his veins before dissipating slightly. Taken in, siphoned some of its energy, let it back out into the world, like a processing machine.

Calm.

Fucking Lucifer as the calm one.

He drops the hand. Each word is enunciated carefully. Precise. "I have never. Stopped. Wanting you. Or us. Or this."