The coffee shop had been quiet for the last hour of the day, allowing Ferya to do most of the cleaning up that was usually required once the shop doors closed. Anything to get done quicker, to get home faster. As a human, she had no desire to be out anywhere close to curfew and the shop hours only gave her ninety minutes to finish her duties and walk the twenty minutes home.

She had moved on to the rear kitchen, prepping for the next day's baking when she heard the small chime of the door opening, followed by the slightly metallic taste to the air that indicated one of the higher beings had entered her shop. Ferya paused for a moment and took a steadying breath, before walking out into the public part of the shop to face the last of the day's customers.

When she was a child, humans had been the only species that humans worried about, but somewhere between learning to ride a bike and becoming an adult the rest of the world's species had taken over the planet, leaving a semi-civilized society of creatures that didn't necessarily care about those weaker than them.

She had been dealing with vampires, shapeshifters, goblins and faeries for most of her life now, most of her memories were formed in the years after the change. After humans had been thrown to the bottom of the food chain and finally accepted their places, as slaves or benevolently tolerated second class citizens depending on some organization that she had been too young to understand when it was implemented.

Ferya was one of the 'free' ones. Allowed to work under gruelling conditions and at the mercy of a boss that threatened her with violence and unemployment on a whim. She was supposed to be happy that she could make enough money to live outside the control of her employer and sometimes afford to feed herself as well.

When she moved out of the kitchen, she found a beautiful winged man standing in front of the baking display case. His hair a deep mahogany, eyes too dark to show any colour from the distance between them and a set of very large, feathered wings hung easily on his back. Only these wings were black, and the feathers looked gilded, like metal, which contrasted the expertly tailored black suit that clothed his lithe body.

He was beautiful in a way that told her he could attract anyone he wanted, regardless of gender, species or sexual orientation. She was briefly relieved to find his gaze, and whatever power it held, focused on the display case until she realized he was glaring at the empty section that her sticky buns usually occupied.

This man was surely amongst the highest echelon of beings that existed in this world and he didn't look happy at her lack of sticky bun supply. A glance to the clock behind him told her that she had thirty minutes till closing. Two hours to get home if she lived through this encounter, anyway.

"Can I help you?" She managed to murmur, freezing the moment his eyes raised to her. He wasn't surprised, he had known she was watching him, but the blackness of his gaze seized her body as he regarded her coolly.

His voice was smooth as silk and as dangerous as a viper. "You're out of sticky buns."

Ferya's mouth went dry, his disappointment sinking through her like heavy torment, but she forced herself to nod slowly, her eyes flickering to the ground at her feet. "They sell out before noon most days."

"And today?" His lips twitched downward, clearly not liking the implications of what she was telling him.

"By ten." Her words came out as a soft whisper. "The owner believes that they sell better if they're of limited quantity. So, I'm only supposed to make one batch."

She heard the shuffling of feathers and the soft tread of dress shoes on the tile floor, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up straight as the angel paced closer to her. "Poor planning on my part, is what you're saying?"

There was a pause, though she didn't dare answer the being who could rip her soul from her body with a flick of his fingers. He could cause her excruciating pain or mind-blowing bliss depending on his whims, or merely reduce her to a half-acknowledge memory with a subtle thought.

"Look at me." His voice was a purr, gentle, though the power in his words removed any will of her own, and Ferya found herself looking at the man who now stood directly in front of her, only a small counter between the two of them. His eyes were pure black, so dark that they didn't reflect the lights of the room or the smile that graced his beautiful lips. "Good. Now, I have a problem."

"No sticky bun." She nodded before blushing at how brainless her voice sounded. She wanted to look away but couldn't force her attention out of his grasp.

Another smile, drawing a faint shimmering of colour to those dark eyes of his. "Buns, plural. I have a business meeting in a couple hours and the group I am meeting for has a penchant for sticky buns. I've been told the ones here are the best. You make them?"

The smart thing to do, would be to deny any involvement in the making of the buns. But Ferya had a distinct impression that he would not be lenient with a lie, so she nodded miserably. "Yes. It was my grandma's recipe."

"Now we can make a deal." He grinned wider to her, raising one brow as his wings shuffled tighter to his back. "I need two dozen. Can you have them ready in three hours?"

She glanced at the clock again, then back to him, letting out a slow breath. Seeing his own glance at the clock and the less than impressed expression that it caused him, she nodded once more. "With the rising of the dough and baking, they can be done in two and a half hours, sir."

"But you close in twenty minutes. Is that it? I'll pay you double what they're worth, personally along with the original price for the shop owner." He offered a shrug, giving her an assured, charming grin.

"The sun sets in less than two hours, sir." She murmured softly, shaking her head. "The glass windows don't secure, so I can't stay here overnight."

At first, he didn't seem to understand, staring at her in expectation of more explanation but she couldn't say anything else, her courage dwindling as she realized that either way, this interaction would end up with her being dead. Turn him down and he would kill her without hesitation. Accept and be hunted all the way home and probably ripped to pieces by whatever creatures were on the prowl tonight.

"Ah. With inherent risk comes a higher price." He grinned finally and nodded, "Being human, you have a curfew for your own safety, dusk namely. Name your price."

Released from whatever power had held her gaze, she glanced around the shop carefully as she contemplated what she could possibly need if she were only going to live a couple more hours. All she had ever wanted was to own and manage a shop like this, to have a secure home in the same building to reduce the risk of travel, but that was an impossible dream as a human and not an immediately before death kind of wish.

"Can you make two dozen sticky buns at your house?" He interrupted her reverie, pulling her gaze back to him, seeing the impatience on his features. "If you closed up right now, went home and started baking immediately, could you fill my order?"

"You're Lucifer, aren't you? What do you need sticky buns for?" Ferya blurted out, though she nodded and began to close the shop up. After shutting down the coffee machine, she turned to see that the leftover baking was packaged up for her, so she turned and pulled the cash drawer out of her till.

"I'm meeting with the others and being an individual that has to go head to head with twelve Angels, it's better for me if they're in a good mood. Sweets put them in a good mood." He answered easily, following her into the back office, watching her as she quickly put away the day's earnings and locked the safe.

He had no right to be in the office or behind the counter, but she wasn't about to tell the man who held his own against the twelve angels of the council that he couldn't watch where she put the few hundred dollars she had made for the vampire who owned the place. She thought over what he said, only answering once she had gathered her things and returned to the front of the shop. With as much determination as she could gather, Ferya turned to look at him finding that he stood only a few feet away from her.

"You're not going to hurt anyone with them, are you?" She couldn't imagine what he could do with a dessert that he couldn't do himself, but she wasn't about to aid the Prince of Darkness if he was up to anything nefarious. Not that the Angels and their ilk were any more benevolent than the creatures of the night.

She wasn't much safer walking around during the day than she was when the sun went down, though they had more rules with the curfew in place. She had seen even the winged creatures of reason and justice do some reprehensible things to humans, light and dark didn't matter to the safety of a second-class citizen like her.

Light and Dark was a fight far beyond her concern.

Lucifer's grin was beautiful, and his eyes sparkled brilliantly with more colours than she had seen in her life as he laughed softly. "No. I will not destroy the world with your baking, nor will I use it to hurt anyone. They're a peace offering."

"Alright." She nodded carefully, though she paused and winced. "There won't be a great deal of time to spare."

"Minutes are relative." He offered a shrug, his expression returning to the cold, brooding beauty as he watched her. "You didn't name your price."

Ferya frowned softly and opened the door to let him walk out in front of her, before following him. She locked the shop before finally responding. "What do you usually deal in?"

"Souls. Life forces, essences of being." He murmured softly, thoughtfully, smirking to her.

"What would I do with Lucifer's soul?" She snorted at that and shook her head, starting to walk down the street towards her home.

She hadn't thought much of it, her natural inclination being to not remain in one spot for very long, even with Lucifer for company. But when he didn't respond, she realized he was no longer with her and a glance back towards the shop showed only an empty street.

Ferya sighed softly and turned away, starting back down the street that would lead her home. She didn't want his soul, she didn't want to be involved in any of what was happening or planned, but she hurried her steps onward.

She would make the sticky buns and deal with what came of it afterwards, what choice did she have?