Failure of Lucifer

                                    

                                          
For the next couple of days, the hotel is filled with a dreadful silence. There's no room for any kind of activities or any kind of work. Everyone was rendered to a complete stand still. What was told to them was a tale of failure and tragedy. Though the bitterness was felt from several members of the crew, there was no denying that that there must have been a few pieces missing. Pieces that only Alastor could fill, but no one had the heart to speak to him. No one but Lucifer who would occasionally check up on him. He would find him in his tower with his drinks or in his bayou in his bedroom curled up amongst the trees and grass. 
And today was no different. 
The King stands within the doorframe of his studio and watches the Radio Demon lean back in his chair with a cigarette in his hand and another glass of whiskey in the other. He never knew he was a smoker, but perhaps he was just that stressed over everything. He sighs softly and approaches him. He waves a hand, manifesting a chair and a glass for himself. He sits by him and takes the bottle to pour himself a glass.
"It's a bitter taste sire...you won't appreciate it......" He says quietly. His voice was quiet, hoarse even—as if all the hydration in his body had withered away. 
"I don't care...." He says softly as he raises the glass to his lips. The two sit in silence for what feels like forever, the company of another not fully registering into the mind of the Radio Demon. 
"Alastor...." He calls with a soft tone of sadness. 
Alastor lowers his cigarette and taps the ash into a tray as he looks up to him. 
Lucifer stares into those red eyes that normally would be full of life. But presently was covered in a layer of dark and dull waves of memories that can never be erased from his head. He lifts his hand to him, with instinct Alastor moves back slowly. He doesn't retreat. He just keeps his hand in the air, never breaking eye contact. The Radio Demon just stares into those red irises looking for some kind of mockery, some kind of trickery, or insult to make him feel enraged like usual. But he doesn't see that. When he looks into those large eyes, all he sees is a gaze of understanding, of worry, and of shame. 
"Mock me...."
"What?" .
Alastor's eyes narrow with a glare. He didn't want this. He didn't like this  
"Mock me. Insult me. The usual banter of irritation that comes between us...! Just do it! Not whatever this is..!"
Lucifer is a bit stunned by his protest and request. 
"No...."
"Why....?!" His tone shifts to needy growl of desperation for what was normal for them instead of this entire scene that was beginning to unfold. 
"Because it's not what you need...."
He scoffs and bitterly chuckles while flicking a few particles of ash to the tray again before completely crushing it into the tray. 
"And what would you know about what I need.....?" He hisses. 
Lucifer frowns. 
"Alastor....I understand how you feel....."
"No you don't....."
"Yes I do..."
Alastor crushes the glass that is in his hand drawing causing the shards to sink into his palm and fingers. 
"No. You. Don't. Pray to your father you never will..."
He turns to Lucifer with his fierce eyes, glowing red with anger. 
"Our circumstances are similar, but I assure you they are not the same....!" 
Lucifer grabs his wrist tightly. Alastor flinches and attempts to swing his arm out of his grip, but it was of no use. The King was too strong, and in this very moment he was too weak and disoriented.