"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask for a little more patience." Lucifer downed the second glass in a single gulp, his lip twitching as the potent liquor burned down his throat. The façade of cheerfulness slipped, revealing once again that shaken, weary look Lucifer had exhibited yesterday.
Abaddon took a sip of his own glass, relishing the way it turned his tongue numb. Given most Angelic's woefully low tolerance to alcohol, he'd learned to cherish every sip.
"How much longer?"
"I've found wives for 330 hybrids," Lucifer said. "But Shay'tan now plays games, promising more women, but making excuses why he can't deliver them. I'm also having problems finding females who will accept a Leonid or Centauri for a mate."
Kunopegos angry demeanor yesterday made sense. If Lucifer had promised
