Furcas and Pruflas stood like bookends on either side of Lucifer's door. Eligor suspected they were there to keep Lucifer inside so he didn't roam around the ship and tip off the crew he was bonkers, not to keep potential assassins out. They eyed him with cold-eyed disdain as he slipped past them, into the familiar stench of stale liquor, expensive men's cologne, and an underlying scent of sickness that not even the air recycling system could mask any longer.
His eyes adjusted to the darkness. They all had a tacit agreement that whenever Lucifer wasn't needed they'd let him sleep it off, only shooting him up when it was necessary for him to perform some duty. Eligor walked over to the bar and turned on the furthest light from Lucifer's bed, and then sat down in a chair to wait for him to
