Azrael sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed that was now hers, frowning thoughtfully at the papers she held. "Come in," she called, hearing the knock at her door.

"Rae, I was just going to-my, you look like death warmed over," Lucifer commented, taking in her pallor.

Azrael looked up with a wry grimace for her brother's particular choice of phrase. "Gee, thanks. So I've learned something. When the humans drank too much and called out for me, said they wanted to die, I should have been a little more sympathetic," she observed. "This body couldn't take the alcohol last night. Don't go into the en-suite," she added, with emphasis. "I'll take care of it, but I wasn't up to it earlier. I am feeling better than I was, though."

Letting his amusement escape for just a moment, Lucifer observed, "Never thought I'd see the day you couldn't hold your liquor. What's all this?" he added, with a nod towards the papers.

"Ah, Michael's paperwork. Immunization records—and I hope that I'm actually immune to all this stuff considering that I bleed and all, now. Some sort of form giving you legal guardianship—please stop smiling like that, I'm not actually a child." Shaking her head ruefully, she added, "It looks official enough. And my birth certificate. Apparently I was born and raised in Silver City, Iowa. Michael showed my the place on the way here, so I can actually say I'm from there, technically. It's pretty tiny." Tipping her head to look up at Lucifer, Azrael inquired, "Do you know Charlotte Richards?"

Lucifer stepped forward and leaned in to look at the paper. "Did Michael put her on the birth certificate?" Studying the paper, he glanced down at his sister. "He put you down as Azrael Morningstar?"

Posture shrinking just a bit, Azrael nodded. "That was Michael. I wouldn't-I mean, I know you're the Morning Star..."

"I'm not upset with you, Rae," Lucifer replied lightly. "He probably just did it to simply matters."

"Good. Yes. That's what I thought." Azrael straightened, adding, "Not that I thought you were going to do anything just now, but the knowledge that I can't just disappear and fly away if you go all red-eyes on me... well, it's a little unsettling."

"When have I ever-?" Lucifer began, with an umbrage that was perhaps not entirely unfeigned.

Azrael didn't say anything. She didn't have to; her skeptical expression did it for her. Finally, she offered, "You do seem much more relaxed than the last time I saw you. Living among the mortals seems to agree with you."

With a laugh, Lucifer observed, "You're making it sound like one of those nature shows. Living among the mortals."

"Depends on the show," Azrael said pertly. "And some details I just don't need to know. Now, if we could focus, please? Charlotte Richards? Is she another one of Michael's attempts at humor?"

Lucifer deadpanned, "No, she's disturbingly hot dead lawyer whose body Mum is currently inhabiting."

Azrael sighed,her brows lifting briefly. "It's never simple with this family."

"No," Lucifer agreed.

"She's really that hot?" Azrael actually smiled at Lucifer's disturbed expression. "Whereas I," she mused, looking down at herself, "have no breasts and about as many curves as a two-by-four. That's so unfair."

Lucifer took another glance at the papers. "I wasn't going to say anything, though I'm sure you're perfectly normal for your age, which appears to be... eleven."

"I can do math, brother," Azrael commented mildly.

"I just wasn't sure if you knew what year it was. You do tend to lose track. Oh-I was going to go down to the station; want to come with?" At Azrael's blank look, he clarified, "I'm working with the LAPD."

"Huh. That's something I wouldn't have expected, you working for law and order. Won't I be in the way?"

"Of course not," Lucifer replied. "And I'm just punishing bad guys, same as I have been. This just involves less brimstone. Get your shoes, let's go." When Azrael didn't move, Lucifer prompted, "Shoes, Rae. You did say you're not actually a child, yes? You can put them on all by yourself?"

"They light up."

"I beg your pardon?"

"My shoes. They light up." To illustrate, Azrael reached down to grab the shoes in question, clapping the heels against each other and demonstrating the flashing red lights along the heels. "They're ridiculous. Another gift from Michael. And most eleven year-olds can manage shoes, brother."

Lucifer considered the shoes, brows lifting. "People actually wear shoes like that? Never mind; we'll pick you up some new ones on the way."

Expression brightening, Azrael put on her shoes. "Okay, let's go."

"One thing," Lucifer inquired as he ushered her to the door. "Am I supposed to hold your hand when we cross streets?"

With an eyeroll worthy of an actual eleven year-old, Azrael shook her head as she exited. "No, Lucifer."