( there are knives laid out. there's someone else, and there's an order laying above their heads and while julian would generally go for the whole, try and get on lucifer's good side plan, this isn't a situation in which he really feels that's necessary.

he rolls his eyes, gestures towards his own list on the table and lets his telekinesis take it up towards the ceiling. far out of reach and where it's definitely not going to be a hindrance on him. )

Nah. I don't feel like it.

( everything here is kind of shit. but this is significantly less shit than everything else. julian's a few drinks in and is having the fucking time of his life. the dance floor is fun, everything is fun and feels hazy but the good kind of hazy. he flits around the dance floor with ease, laughing and grinning and moving from one willing dance partner to the next without ever getting too close.

but he's comfortable. and definitely doesn't mind sliding up behind the next person, keeping a good few inches between them but leaning in closer, pressing his mouth close to their ear: ) Having fun?

( there's a dangerous lilt to his tone, but he's not--getting too handsy so maybe it's fine? )

( later, after he's had a few too many drinks probably--he takes up one of the demons' offers for drugs. lays out a line on a nearby table and uses a folded up card pressed to his nose to breathe it in. julian coughs, takes a moment to feel it before he's laughing hard, bending over and wrapping arms around himself before stumbling his way over to one of the gambling tables.

strip poker is clearly the best fucking idea ever. why not spend some time proving he's better at this shit than anyone else and humiliate them in the process.

you know, if that's how it goes down. )