[ He sits back a little, tipping his head upwards while Elio finds his starting point, playing a cute, little jazzy intro that Lucifer doesn't recognise, it's not any song he knows. Once the other man starts singing, his Neapolitan dialect definitely more authentic-sounding than his own (just because the Devil speaks all languages doesn't mean he sounds as fluent as native speakers), he closes his eyes and simply listens for a moment. Without wings, he took me to Heaven and how come he's never heard of this song, hm, when it's so clearly directed at him?
Because, obviously, people see themselves in him quite readily, when they don't see their sins or their criminal acts or the losses they've suffered. Their pain. Sometimes, yes, it's just his story, at least the way they know it and he tends to forget about that. About how some of them, misguided as it may seem, find beauty in it, in the idea of him and he'd rather they didn't, of course, seeing as he's... nothing at all like that.
But they do, all the same.
And Elio gives it back to him, here, with all the softness in his being, his voice naturally clean, un-presumptuous like the rest of him.
Head tilted slightly to the side, Lucifer finally smiles. Hums along in a low baritone, something very pleased and comfortable (something adoring) hiding within that sound, even when he doesn't quite attempt to hit the notes. It's not about that. It's not singing. He stretches out his legs a little and lets Elio entertain him (distract him, oh, he's doing more than that), and he realises just then that, even hidden away like now, his wings are still here, that maybe...
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Because, obviously, people see themselves in him quite readily, when they don't see their sins or their criminal acts or the losses they've suffered. Their pain. Sometimes, yes, it's just his story, at least the way they know it and he tends to forget about that. About how some of them, misguided as it may seem, find beauty in it, in the idea of him and he'd rather they didn't, of course, seeing as he's... nothing at all like that.
But they do, all the same.
And Elio gives it back to him, here, with all the softness in his being, his voice naturally clean, un-presumptuous like the rest of him.
Head tilted slightly to the side, Lucifer finally smiles. Hums along in a low baritone, something very pleased and comfortable (something adoring) hiding within that sound, even when he doesn't quite attempt to hit the notes. It's not about that. It's not singing. He stretches out his legs a little and lets Elio entertain him (distract him, oh, he's doing more than that), and he realises just then that, even hidden away like now, his wings are still here, that maybe...
Maybe Elio just likes... them... exactly enough.
Huh.
Imagine that. ]