Slumped between them, she drifts, feeling like she's floating on a stream of Lucifer's praise. It's not quite sleep, but she's wrung out like a towel, uncertain she has anything more to give them in the moment.

And yet, the way things go, they always seem to find more new and creative ways to rouse her, to bring her. It's like a drug, and she doesn't care anymore. She doesn't want to go anywhere else, belong to anyone else.