If there was such a thing as 'critical limit of things to process', Lucifer had hit it sometime yesterday. He had a child, apparently, and his partners doing their best to accomodate her while struggling not to fall apart, and he was still trying to figure out how on Earth it could even happen to him.

So he'd decided to do better today. To try and entertain her, and make sure she knew he wasn't-- that he wouldn't just drop her on someone else and ignore her.

"How about we play some music?" he'd asked. And Aurora had gotten a look on her face.

They'd wound up on the deck, him with a guitar, her with Duke's ukelele that she had insisted on getting and he couldn't stop her from getting because she knew exactly where it was.

It had been nice. Oddly enough.

But now he had retreated to the back portion of the deck with his coffee. Rory was perched on the railing of the ship, looking out over the coast of Fandom, and... still playing that damned ukulele.

[[ open for boat dwellers and passers-by alike! ]]