Angelo's POV

Bobby's Eats was a diner that had been around longer than most people in the neighborhood had been alive. 

Only a handful of cars were in the lot when Lucifer pulled into a spot and parked. After they dismounted the motorcycle, Angelo looked around as if he had stepped onto the movie set of an old-school film.

"This place looks ancient. Is it safe to eat here? Do they even cook stuff from this century?" Angelo's stomach rumbled for him to keep quiet, not giving a damn about the establishment's age or outer décor.

"Never judge a book by its cover, pet. The meat here is some of the best you'll ever put in your mouth."

Angelo cringed. "Did you really have to phrase it like that?"

"What...oh, wow!" Lucifer laughed like he'd heard the best joke in the world. "I wasn't even trying to be sexual, you little pervert. Exactly how long has your mind been rolling around in the gutter, huh?"

"Shut up." Angelo crossed his arms, embarrassed. "Can we go inside or what? I'm starving."

"One second." Lucifer reached over and unclasped the shock collar from Angelo's neck, then hooked it around one of his belt loops. "There. You're welcome."

"Thanks," Angelo muttered, instinctively caressing his bare neck. The sense of liberation was fleeting, though, because he knew the control Lucifer had over him wasn't something that could be so easily removed.

Not yet anyway.

A bell tinkled overhead to announce their presence as Angelo and Lucifer entered the diner. The smell of grease, sweets, and coffee filled the air. They were oddly comforting scents, and it was yet another reminder of the normalcy Angelo may never return to.

"We can sit there." Lucifer pointed near the back at a booth with a window seat. It was sheathed in cracked leather and squeaked under their weight.

Angelo noted how Lucifer positioned himself facing the exit, keen eyes alert and watchful, always on guard.

"I take it you come here a lot." Angelo preferred small talk over silence. His thoughts went to dark places when things were too quiet, and he was not mentally prepared to replay Andy's violent death in his head.

While somewhat composed on the outside, he was still overwhelmed by the day's trauma, and still very much repulsed by how Lucifer had callously taken a life without a second thought. The ease with which he'd sliced Andy's throat told Angelo more than enough about the man.

Murder and death meant nothing to Lucifer. He'd do whatever needed to be done to get the outcome he wanted, including putting Angelo on the chopping block. So his moments of being charming and nice meant nothing. It was all an act. A well-played facade.

"Only when I have time. Do you enjoy eating out or do you prefer to cook your meals?" Lucifer asked.

"Depends on my workload and how crazy the day has been." Angelo wasn't genuinely interested in getting to know Lucifer or revealing too much about himself.

He was simply just trying to make it to see another day, which meant sticking close to Lucifer and staying on his good side. For now, that was the safest option.

"What about you?" Angelo asked. "Are you the type to burn water, or do you actually know how to operate a stove?"

Lucifer chuckles. "I'm more of a baker than a cook."

A baker? Picturing Lucifer in a cutesy apron while making a mess in the kitchen almost brought a smile to Angelo's face. Keyword—almost.

Their conversation was a bizarre dance of mundane questions and guarded answers until a waitress approached with menus. She was an older woman with gray hair and bags under her blue eyes which brightened upon recognizing Lucifer.

"Ain't seen you 'round in a while." She handed Angelo a menu but kept her gaze on Lucifer. "Still the usual?"

"Yes ma'am." Lucifer gifted her the kind of smile that would've got him invited in for a cup of tea, totally innocent and easygoing. "And he'll have the same," he added, nodding to Angelo.

Angelo didn't have it in him to protest about not being able to pick his own meal. He was too fascinated by Polly—according to her nametag—and Lucifer's exchange. They spoke to one another like they were old friends playing catch-up.

Uneasy was too chill a word as Angelo watched Lucifer change personalities again, switching from a heartless murderer to a smooth-talking patron in the blink of an eye. Just how many faces did the man wear? Exactly what level of sociopath was Angelo dealing with?

"Thanks, Polly. You're a doll." Lucifer snatched the menu from Angelo's hands and gave it back to Polly after they finished talking.

"Back in ten," she said before walking off.

"I could've picked my meal myself," Angelo said, brow furrowed. "You didn't even ask if I had any allergies."

"I've been feeding you for the past week and you're still alive and breathing, so..." Lucifer shrugged.

"Asshole," Angelo grumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"That's what I thought." Lucifer leaned back, one arm slung casually across the top of the booth, and locked his piercing gaze on Angelo. "So, tell me more about yourself, pet. I noticed you don't have much going on when it comes to social media. Why is that?"

"You know what I do for a living," Angelo sighed. "It's easier to keep a low profile online. Safer, too."

"Oh, please. You can't actually be this boring."

Angelo scoffed. "I'm sorry I don't get off on committing crimes every five minutes. I'm normal."

"Normal? Like fuck you are."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying, no one wakes up and pursues the lifestyle of a hacker who takes jobs on the dark web. I'm sure you have plenty of stories to tell, and a million secrets hidden."

"I..." Angelo hesitated.

He had to give Lucifer something, or else the man would never get off his case. But how much, and what, should he reveal? Too little, and he risked getting on Lucifer's bad side. Too much and he'd lose the leverage of holding Lucifer's curiosity.

"I've always been a nerd for tech and computers. Hacking started as a hobby. It was fun seeing how far I could get, what systems I could break into." He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant even as his nerves sizzled under Lucifer's undivided attention. "Turns out, there's a market for those skills. Paid the bills more than minimum wage ever did. End of story."

"And your friends? Parents? Do they approve of your highly sketchy career choice?"

Angelo pushed past the knot forming in his throat as he said, emotionless, "I have no friends, and my parents are dead. It's just me."

"Hm. Dead parents, too. Something else we have in common," Lucifer mused, a sparkle of something unreadable in his expression. Empathy, perhaps.

"What about you?" Angelo asked.

"Nah. It doesn't work like that, pet. I get to know you; you don't get to know me."

"Not very fair, is it?"

"Neither is life."

Exactly ten minutes later, Angelo's stomach growled louder than the jukebox crooning in the corner as Polly set down two steaming plates of food.

Lucifer flashed another grin at her. "Thanks, Polly."

"You're welcome, sugar. Yell if you need anything else."

Angelo had no manners as he tore into his burger and fries. But in the back of his mind, warning bells continued to ring out. He couldn't get too comfortable. Not when the man who sat across from him could snap at any second and turn him into a victim.

"You can slow down a little," Lucifer said, his voice laced with amusement. "Food's not going anywhere."

Angelo glanced up from his plate, cheeks burning with a flush. "Why do you keep staring at me?"

"Can I not admire your pretty face?"

The compliment sent a chill down Angelo's spine, even as he mentally chastised himself for reacting to Lucifer's shameless flirting.

"Please stop flirting with me," Angelo said, his appetite waning. "The whole Stockholm Syndrome thing is never going to happen here. So cut it out. Please."

"I don't think I've ever seen someone get so upset by an innocent compliment," Lucifer teased.

"Maybe I'm not used to getting them from someone who—" Angelo caught himself before spilling too much.

"From someone who...what?" Lucifer prodded, looking genuinely curious. "Go on. Say it."

"Never mind," Angelo muttered, pushing around the remaining food on his plate. "Are you not going to eat?"

Lucifer shook his head. "Bought it for you in case you wanted extra."

"O-oh. Um, thanks."

Lost in Lucifer's heterochromia eyes, Angelo barely registered the brush of the man's fingers against his own. The touch sent electricity humming through his veins, even as his brain screamed at him to pull away.

But he didn't. Not immediately.

"See?" Lucifer's voice dropped an octave, his eyes shimmering with a wicked invitation. "I'm not as evil as you think I am. I do give a fuck. Sometimes."

He's playing you like a toy and you're falling for it. Wake up! Angelo shook his head, dispelling the dangerous thoughts forming. This was a damn hostage situation, not a date.

"You killed a man today." Angelo yanked his hand back, his tone hardening. "Doesn't get eviler than that."

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "You'll get used to it."

"You say that like you don't plan on ever letting me go."

Lucifer smirked. "Of course I don't."

Angelo finished his meal and half of Lucifer's. He said nothing as Lucifer left a $100 tip behind, and then they left. So what if Lucifer knew how to be courteous when the time called for it? So what if he could make you feel like you were the only person in the universe that he was interested in? Remove his many masks and you'd still find a cold-blooded killer.

He had taken Angelo against his will. He had killed a man sitting at his kitchen table with no warning. There was no redemption for a man like that. No saving.

"Ready to head back to the clubhouse, pet?" Lucifer asked as they made their way over to the motorcycle.

"For the millionth time, please stop calling me that."

"You don't like pet? I think it's cute—"

"It's not. My name is Angelo."

"Then how about angel?"

"How about neither?"

"Or..." Lucifer grabbed Angelo's arm and spun him around so that they faced each other. "How about you stop being a brat and fucking pick one, pet?"

For a second, Angelo considered what it would be like to bridge the gap. To taste the danger on Lucifer's lips. But the fantasy shattered as quickly as it formed when his inner voice screamed at him a second time to wake the fuck up.

"Angel." Angelo stepped back. "I'm no one's pet."

"Angel it is." Lucifer mounted the bike with a cheeky grin, and Angelo followed suit. "By the way, you're getting put to work tomorrow."

"Finally." Angelo gripped the leather jacket in front of him when the engine roared to life.

His mind raced with plans and possibilities. He couldn't waste this opportunity of being allowed out of his room. Somehow, by some miracle, he had to send a message to his fellow hacker and best friend Maxxx.

If he continued to play his cards right, freedom was still within reach.