"Why would I play a game with you?"

"Because you really don’t have any choice, angel," he said. "You want answers; I want the company."

She stared at him, contemplating, before nodding slightly. "Fine."

They started their game, Luce flippantly turning his cards with magic as Serah chose the traditional way. Serah's confidence surged as she won the first few hands, but it didn't last long. Luce started dominating the game, stealing card after card, his stack growing steadily as hers dwindled. She scowled and huffed with frustration, casting him angry looks every so often, but neither said a word.

A few minutes later, Serah was down to only one card. Sighing, she flipped it over. Luce didn't even have to look to know it was a two, the lowest possible card.

Luce flipped his top card over—an eight—and slid all the remaining cards onto the bottom of his deck. "I win."

"What now?"

"We play again."

"What if I don’t want to?" she asked. "Are you going to hold me hostage? Force me to keep playing your stupid games?"

"Hardly." He scoffed. "I've been advocating for free will for angels my entire existence. I'm not in the business of taking it away. You want to leave? Then go on and get the fuck out of here. But if you want me to answer your questions, you're going to have to beat me in a game."

She glared at him, her eyes narrowed, her lips a hard, thin line of contempt. "You’re unbearable."

"You’re cute yourself, angel," he joked, his lips curving into a grin. "Does that mean you’re in?"

Serah grabbed his deck of cards and slid them down the table to him. "Just shut up and shuffle."

Endless hours were spent playing War; hand after hand, battle after battle, game after game. As soon as Serah started getting ahead, as soon as she believed she finally had a chance to beat the arrogant angel, he’d throw a high card and end her lucky streak.

Irritation flowed through her body as she banged her cards against the table, groaning every time he won. Lucifer remained slouched in his marble throne, dismissively tossing around cards. His piercing eyes bore into her, breaking her concentration as she tried to keep track of what remained in her deck. She was down to five cards already.

"Would you stop staring at me?" she spat, slamming down a seven.

Lucifer twirled his finger, tossing over a nine, and slid the cards into his deck. "I’m not under your skin already, am I?"

"Of course not," she said, playing a king. She smiled, the hope disintegrating the moment he turned over an ace. "Ugh, you’re impossible!"

"So I’ve heard," he said, playing a six next. Serah turned over a five and slammed her hand against the table as he took the cards, leaving her with only two left.

He turned over a six; she turned over a five.

He turned over another six; she burst into bitter laughter as she shook her head. "Three sixes in a row. How typical."

Before he could even respond, she threw her last card down the table at him. It soared in the air, fluttering and twisting before landing right in his lap. He looked down.

A two, Serah knew.

"I win," he declared. "Again."

"Of course," she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared at him, seeing the smug look of satisfaction on his face. "Shuffle the cards."

He shook his head, picking up the two. "I think we’re done."

"What? Why?"

"Why?" He cocked an eyebrow at her. "First of all, because you threw a card at me. If anyone else had done that, they’d be in excruciating pain right now. Secondly, because if you hit my table any harder, you’re liable to put a crack in it, and I happen to be fond of my table. And thirdly, because I fucking said so. I make the rules here, angel. Don’t like it? You know where the exit is."

She glared at him as he stood up and strolled toward the door. "What about my answers?"

"What about them? You have to win. You want to play again? Come back tomorrow." He reached up, placing his hand on his chest over the symbol carved into his flesh. "I’m certainly not going anywhere, remember?"

The yellow lights of East York twinkled like stars in the distance. Serah sat on a cliff ten miles from the city, her bare feet hanging over the edge. The sound of Warrant’s "Heaven" blared from the small speakers in a car nearby, the song muffled by the steamy rolled-up windows.

A pop of static electricity rippled the air behind Serah. A fraction of a second passed before a loud groan hit her. "Awkward," Samuel said, dragging out the word. "They’re fornicating less than ten feet from you, Ser."

She rolled her eyes. "They’re just making out."

"Same difference," he said, plopping down beside her. "I guess they call this Coitus Cliff for a reason."

Serah burst into laughter. "They do not call it that."

"Eh, they could," he said. "It’s kind of catchy, isn’t it? Almost as catchy as this song. It’s my anthem."

Before Serah could say a word in response, Samuel started singing along. His shouting voice bounced off the trees and echoed through the city below, drowning out every other noise in the night. No one else heard, though, unable to pick up the frequency of his voice as he belted out the rock ballad at the top of his lungs.

When the chorus kicked in, Serah couldn’t help herself from singing along with him. Samuel leaned back, wildly kicking his legs, his hands moving frantically as he ripped an air guitar solo, his fingers expertly strumming and plucking the invisible strings. By the time the song wound down, Serah was doubled over in laughter as a radiant smile lit up Samuel’s face.