[ He wants to live in a library, a laboratory, a museum, a house of worship—any hall where he might absorb what makes this world and its people tick. But he also needs a base of operations. While he'd planned to take a space for himself, Belial's arrival and presence would (mostly) make his life that much easier in the day-to-day.

It doesn't mean he has to look thrilled about it. Probably because he's never been happy about anything, ever. The corners of his mouth dip into a frown, and once again he ignores the less than subtle implications to cut at the quick. ]

Let you go...? [ It's true that angels were beasts of burden, but they were slaves to their roles, not their creator. Lucilius sounds exasperated as he waves off his words with a flick of his wrist. ] What difference does it make if I invite or dismiss you?

[ Belial could help him, or he could not. Lucilius didn't care either way—nor has he really ever understood the deeper mechanisms of his loyalty, however steadfast it may be. He surmised once that it was some ingrained and compulsive need to be useful, but he's uncertain if that theory could really hold water anymore. ]

You'd find some way to indulge your whims regardless.