When Steve was away, she only had two tasks to complete in the squat. Feed his cat and clean the litter tray. Except the cat didn’t like her. It always hissed and spat at her. Putting his food down or cleaning his toilet did not mollify Lucifer. It was a good name as this particular cat probably had been cast out of heaven for bad behaviour.
Lucifer would often follow her then hide in the shadows only to rush out to try and trip her. He often did it when she was at the top of the stairs. That bastard cat was a reincarnated killer, she was sure of it.
Sometimes she would be sat at the dirty kitchen table smoking a cigarette and Lucifer would be sat in the opposite chair, staring in the impassive way cats do. You know, the ‘Exactly who the fuck are you?’ look.
She could hear his thoughts and they would talk telepathically.
“Look at the state of you! I don’t know what Steve was thinking, letting you into our home.”
“At least I am a human being.”
“Sister, we both eat out of tins so don’t play the human card.”
“You eat mice!”
“Okay, I’ll let you have that one.”
The odd thing was, when Steve was back, Lucifer would seek her out, not him. She realised she spoke to Lucifer as if he was a human all the time now, Steve thought she was mad. Reality was, the conversations with Lucifer were better. All Steve had going for him was the squat. Lucifer still tried the stair trick but it was more a game rather than malicious intent.