On the morning of the fourth day...
The zipper on the tent plunged quickly, releasing a raucous snore from within and the heavily-stubbled face of a man, black hair mussed roguishly atop his head.
"Lovely," Lucifer murmured with a grin, before emerging from the tent and standing tall.
Grunting with a delicious stretch, he rubbed his bare abs briskly, scratched an itch on his bare butt swiftly, then picked a random direction to walk off in and pee.
The tall evergreens about him were rather happy he was there, which was a lovely message to get first thing in the morning. He tried not to pee on any of them, and aimed for a bare spot next to a rock covered in a patchwork of lichen instead, giving a satisfied sigh at the release.
The spot was quite lovely - on a slight rise with a view of a distant snow capped peak, jaggedly young. The hillside was covered with a spray of spruce and pine, carpeted by needles, and dotted with more boulders - the nearest one sporting a fox den.
The mother came to visit as he stood appreciating the view, and asked if they meant well. He assured her they did, and they parted amicably. She even offered to bring him breakfast, but he declined graciously, knowing that feeding a growing litter of five kits was hard enough as a single mother.
The eagle that came shortly afterwards was a little more brusque, its white head turning back and forth as it demanded to know why he was in the area and how long he intended to stay.
So Lucifer snapped his wings out wide, delighting in the bird's startled retreat, and promptly told it to piss off and mind its own business.
He turned and headed back to the tent, shaking his head.
What was the appeal again?
Listening to the world breathe?
Snorting at that, he knelt by the tent opening, looking to retrieve a smoke from his backpack.
Chloe was completely out, sprawled over the entire floor of the tent. Her arm was draped awkwardly over his backpack. There was no way to pull what he wanted out without disturbing her.
So he kissed her lovely round cheek with a smile, and grinned at the impressive snore that left her at the touch.
An Albanian field wench indeed.
"Right then," he murmured, straightening once more. "Breakfast?"
Before he'd moved in with Chloe, and she and Trixie then moved in with him - at the Cliff House, not Lux, which was still technically Maze's - Lucifer had been a liquid breakfast kind of Devil.
A couple of fingers of scotch or whiskey made a perfect start to the day. Lovely and smooth, bracing, and warming before it hit the stomach.
But since he'd moved in, he'd found himself needing something much more substantial in the mornings. Something with actual food in it, which turned into one of his new found delights.
Eggs in every form imaginable, bacon with just the right amount of crisp, strawberries and pancakes, the odd hashbrowns with onions and peppers and a dash of salt...
He'd cooked breakfast for other people before of course and his overnight guests had loved it, but it hadn't ever meant much to him.
Unfortunately they'd burned through the entire stock of the like over their three-day sex jaunt, and it appears all they had left even slightly breakfasty was granola bars and condensed milk.
He sat back from the cooler and sighed.
This would not do.
Chloe had lasted impressively - only passing out twice in the last day - and deserved something remarkable this morning.
And he was starving himself. Much more than normal. In fact, he felt a little weary overall, which was new.
He'd had week long orgies with no dent in his stamina, and here he was, three days straight with one woman, tired?
What a worrying trend...
Shaking his head to his thoughts, Lucifer closed the cooler and strung it up again, out of the reach of bears he didn't fear, then turned in place.
Civilization to the southeast, and their main destination to the northwest. They'd passed a gas station diner just outside of the last town, and that was probably his best bet.
The idea of buying bacon at a gas station made him grimace.
Awful. Again, this camping business, the allure was escaping him.
Readying to fly, he glanced down and promptly stopped.
He had no pants.
And no money.
And while he could probably flash his wings for a sacred offering of bacon and a carton of eggs, it would probably have real consequences down the road.
It would be greatly amusing though.
Ah, to be in the 80s again when no one had internet or smartphones and the ability to spread his naked angelic ass across the world in an instant.
Pants. Money. Then a quick flight to town and back before she ever stirred.
Btw, Lucifer's ability to speak any language plays a part here, in his recognition of the trees' welcome, a mother fox's concerns, and the belligerence of an eagle.
I'm sure his trip to town will go just great.