The library was quiet, the only sound being the soft hum of the air conditioner and the rhythmic tapping of Lucifer's pen. They had been working in silence for an hour, the table between them piled high with textbooks and half-finished diagrams of ecosystems.
Nancy was sketching a layout for their presentation, her movements precise and focused. Suddenly, she stopped, her pen hovering over the paper. "Do you ever feel like you've done this before?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Lucifer looked up, his brow furrowing. "Done what? Biology homework?"
"No," Nancy shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Building things. When I was little, I used to build these massive, complicated cities. I called myself the 'Grand Architect.' I had a friend who was the 'Chief Builder.' We thought we were unstoppable."
Lucifer felt a sharp, cold prickle at the back of his neck. He remembered a sandbox. He remembered the grit of sand under his fingernails and the pride of finishing a tower.
"I used to build castles," Lucifer said, his voice lower than usual. "But they always got destroyed. Eventually, I just stopped building."
Nancy looked at him, her eyes searching his face for something she couldn't quite name. "My friend... he moved away. He gave me something to remember him by, but I can't even remember what he looked like anymore. Just that he promised to come back."
She reached for the blue marble hanging from her neck, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger. Lucifer stared at the glass sphere. For a split second, the library faded, and he could almost hear the distant sound of a playground swing creaking in the wind.
"Promises are just words people use when they're too afraid to say goodbye," Lucifer said, turning back to his book. But his hand was trembling slightly.
Nancy didn't argue. She just watched him, wondering why a complete stranger's cynicism felt so much like a personal betrayal.