[ As if the raincloud looming over Dean isn't bad enough, there's something in this world that has been drawn to him, drawn to that Mark, like water being drawn into a sponge. Lucifer keeps his spiritual presence right on the downlow, not really landing so much as letting the tips of his wings brush through the air, looking over the place before he plants his feet there.
He expects to find Cain, not Dean Winchester.
Dean Winchester wearing the Mark of Cain? Dean Winchester bearing this responsibility, to hold the Darkness at bay? It's ludicrous. It's just. There are no words for what a Bad Idea™ this is. Lucifer hangs back, but the draw is inexorable, it's demanding, and he plants his feet on the ground finally, barely disturbing the other patrons - they're used to this kind of thing.
Slowly, he steps toward the bar, until - exhaling a frosty breath across the back of Dean's neck as he leans over him - he puts his hand on the counter beside him. ]
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He expects to find Cain, not Dean Winchester.
Dean Winchester wearing the Mark of Cain? Dean Winchester bearing this responsibility, to hold the Darkness at bay? It's ludicrous. It's just. There are no words for what a Bad Idea™ this is. Lucifer hangs back, but the draw is inexorable, it's demanding, and he plants his feet on the ground finally, barely disturbing the other patrons - they're used to this kind of thing.
Slowly, he steps toward the bar, until - exhaling a frosty breath across the back of Dean's neck as he leans over him - he puts his hand on the counter beside him. ]
Some kind of one, yes.