you quietly sat on your shared bed strumming lightly your ukelele as lucifer paced back and forth in front of you, ranting to the little rubber duck in his hands. his rants ranged from how his daughter was doing to whatever plans his ex had while she was gone or how his duck inventions were going and what he wanted to do next.

you plucked the strings in between his rants finding a mellow tune as he confesses.

"i don't think i'm even good enough for you."