It's a slow evening in Hell.

Lucifer is in his room, lounging on the too big bed he has. It's fluffy, covered in blankets and in pillows, nearly all of it duck themed. He's dressed in casual clothes; gray sweatpants and a light coloured, duck-themed sweater that he made himself. It turned out quite good, he must say! He has a knack for making anything duck-related, after all.

Resting his head in Lucifer's lap is Alastor, who is currently reading a book he picked up recently. Lucifer loves his boyfriend and he loves him even more when the other lets him toy with his hair, with his ears; when he's allowed to curiously poke and prod around.

Lucifer's been thinking, lately. Alastor visits cannibal town often, and being close friends with the ruler of said town, Rosie, he's often supplied with tons of high quality meat. Demon... meat. Lucifer's always been curious about it, why he would willingly eat flesh from someone of the same species as him. Then again, the angel's never understood a lot of things about sinners.

"Hey... Al?" Lucifer speaks softly, still threading his fingers through Alastor's hair. The demon hums, signaling that he's listening. The radio static surrounding Alastor seems to soften just slightly.

"Y'know... You're a cannibal, right?" He gets a lazy nod in response and continues hesitantly. "...Why?"

Alastor's hand pauses halfway through flipping a page in his book. He seems taken aback by the question, slowly flipping the page.

"Why?" He repeats it back to Lucifer, who's cheeks redden and he hurries to explain himself.

Lucifer shakes his head, "I don't mean it like... that. I've just... I've never met a cannibal. I don't understand it. Why do you eat your own? And... what does it taste like?" The question is hesitant, but he hopes Alastor will pick up on all the undertones and inquires he has.

He always does.