Lucifer sat alone in his opulent office, meticulously crafting his rubber ducks. It had been four weeks since the devastating destruction of his daughter's hotel and the tragic deaths of Sir Pentious and Dazzle. The weight of recent events lingered in the air, a palpable reminder of the chaos and loss.

Lucifer’s office was a grand and luxurious space, reflecting his status as the ruler of Hell. The walls were lined with dark, rich mahogany bookshelves, filled with ancient tomes and grimoires. A massive, ornate desk dominated the center of the room, intricately carved with infernal symbols and motifs. The desk was cluttered with various tools and materials for crafting his beloved rubber ducks, a peculiar yet comforting hobby amidst the turmoil.

Behind the desk, a large, arched window overlooked the infernal landscape of Hell, casting an eerie, red glow into the room. Heavy, velvet drapes framed the window, adding to the regal yet somber atmosphere. The floor was covered in a plush, crimson carpet that muffled any sound, contributing to the room's quiet, reflective ambiance.

On one side of the office, an elaborate fireplace crackled with green and blue flames, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Above the mantle, a portrait of a younger, angelic Lucifer hung, a stark contrast to his current demonic form. Surrounding the room were various relics and artifacts from his past, each telling a story of pride, power, and inevitable fall, Drowned under his Rubber Ducks