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He observed with avid fascination as Lucifer’s lips, pale and strict, finally met the chilly edge of the chalice. The rich, red wine, a symbol of redemption and sacrifice, began its slow, deliberate flow, tracing a path between those lips. Alastor’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, his breath held captive in his chest, as he watched Lucifer’s Adam's apple bob, a stark, vulnerable movement as he swallowed the holy liquid.

As Father Alastor slowly, deliberately, pulled the chalice away, his gaze remained riveted on Lucifer. He watched, with an almost perverse satisfaction, as a single, defiant release of wine, dark as spilled blood, streamed from the corner of Lucifer’s mouth. It cut a stark, crimson path down the pale column of Lucifer’s throat, a noticeable stain against his alabaster skin, before finally soaking into the pristine fabric of his collar.