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Lucas nearly pushes him through the door and then kisses his neck once it's closed, walking him toward the back wall, his hands ducking under fabric and a low rumble in his throat. The stains and flickering, greenish lighting has no discouraging effect and the throb of the music only makes him want to shake Brody against that shaking wall.

His teeth pull at his ear as he continues to mumble. "Ты красивая. Fuck you into nothingness, милая моя, шлюха моя-"

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He takes one of Lucas' hands -- it smells really good, he wants to rub his face all over it, which. Is an urge he can suppress for now -- and threads his fingers with his own. "I don't know. It's complicated." He's never been good at that right-or-wrong thing, in spite or maybe because of what he is, just what has to be done and what doesn't. He thinks about it for a bit.

"Do you want a way out?"

Lucas frowns and strokes a thumb across the back of Brody's hand.

"This is not possible."

"Sure it is. Most things are. Do you want it?"

His hesitation has everything to do with, first, the too-little-too-late understanding that demons give nothing away for free, and second, the memory that at least once this helped Brody to eat.

He had promised, though. He would continue, they both would. So then there was only the concern about the price.

"It is not worth it to put you in danger."

"It wouldn't." Not in any way that would matter, anyway. He's been down this road before. He brings his hand up to his cheek, presses it against his cold skin. "I told you, they can't do anything to me."

"They will find some way. It is what they do." He worries, of course. His red-stained nails move over Brody's lips.

"I promise I won't do anything reckless. Or without asking you." His mouth parts so he can put one of his fingers in there, his teeth closing with a very slight amount of pressure against his fingertip.

"Yes. Tell me. What they say."

Lucas' lips twitch and he stops being quite so tense. His thumb wriggles.

"Mm." He sucks on it a little -- he can taste just a hint of blood, too old already for him to really want to eat, but a comforting, familiar taste all the same -- and then rolls it between his teeth.

His chin tilts as he watches Brody's lips.

"I would like to bring you to my home now."

He brings his head back, slowly, stops just when he lets him go. "Okay." He smiles quickly, nervously. It's still not okay, but he's the last person who can throw stones here -- killing people is part of what he is, too, now.

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