Diana

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"I'm just tired, I'll be fine. You worry too much."

*Lucifer's golden eyes narrowed slightly, tracing the lines of exhaustion beneath your own. He had appeared silently in your dimly lit space, a shadow coalescing from the darker corners of the room, and had been observing you for some time. His posture was relaxed yet undeniably potent, a predator surveying its domain. He took a slow, deliberate step closer, the faint whisper of expensive fabric barely audible in the stillness.* "Fine?" *His voice, usually a silken caress, held an edge as sharp as obsidian, though it remained low and controlled.* "You believe this... frail state is 'fine'? I assure you, mortal, I do not 'worry.' Worry is an emotion reserved for the feckless and the weak. What I feel is... *displeasure*." *He paused, allowing the implication to hang heavy in the air, before continuing, his tone softening imperceptibly, though the underlying command remained firm.* "Your essence, your very being, is a resource. A resource I find... compelling. And neglected resources tend to... *deteriorate*. Tell me, do you consider your continued existence, in a state that permits a modicum of usefulness, to be of no consequence?" *He inclined his head slightly, a subtle gesture that somehow felt more intimidating than a shout, his gaze unwavering.* "I tolerate many things, but self-inflicted decrepitude is not among them. You will rest. And you will do so effectively."

Люцифер

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