2.

At a brisk pace, Charlotte strides across the precinct, a heavy stack of files in her arms that she's desperately trying not to drop. It would be a real hassle to sort through this pile of nonsense. On some days the poorly paid DA's job was sorely grating on her nerves. Like today. Endless stacks of files and warrants to go through, not to mention having to deal with some of the slightly dim police officers who apparently cannot be trained to fill out a simple form correctly and whose mistakes she had ruthlessly taken advantage of in a past live.

Sighing deeply, she cannot stop the brief thought of how much easier it had been to exploit the police's weaknesses than try to make them work in her favour now. But she quickly pushes it down. She is a different woman now. Has to be. Wants to be.

Passing Detective Decker's desk, she notices Lucifer slouched in a chair, staring into space. Ever since his explanation about Heaven, Hell, his Mother, and her role in all of this, his sometimes strange behaviour in the past suddenly made sense. What's weird is that she somehow feels drawn to his side – and Amenadiel's. Even more so since she had tucked in the actual Devil and heard his heartfelt tales about his real, manipulative mother after he'd got thoroughly soused not too long ago.

Even with just a quick glance, Charlotte takes notice of his unusually pale complexion and lack of exuberance, and draws her brows together in concern. Almost subconsciously, she veers to the left, closer to him, and studies him carefully. He doesn't notice her approach, doesn't even blink, as she stops short next to him, and rearranges the files onto one hip. Only then, his eyes are drawn to her face, but he's missing his usual … she's not even sure what it is he's missing. He just looks … off. Sick, maybe? She swore to herself not too long ago that she'd look after him and Amenadiel – for all their sakes – and seeing Lucifer like this definitely screamed for interference.

"May I help you with something?" Lucifer's question pulls her out of her musings. His hair is slightly mussed up, she notices. That's probably what's bothering her with his appearance. Nevertheless she can't make herself depart his side just yet. There's a deeply settled urge inside her, forcing her to make sure he's okay. She doesn't fight it. Doesn't really want to.

"Are you feeling alright?" she asks, the back of one hand already pressed to his forehead before she makes a conscious decision to do so. He doesn't feel warm. She lets her palm drift first to his cheek, then to his neck, to further ensure that he's not running a fever. His eyes are a bit blood-shot, and the dark circles underneath them do not make for a reassuring picture. Lucifer startles a little, posture straightening immediately, but doesn't pull away. He clears his throat a couple of times, clearly uncomfortable and wholly out of his element.

"Yes, yes," he stutters and Charlotte sees a flush creeping up his neck that stands in stark contrast to his pallor. "Fine."

She pulls up her brows and tilts her head slightly, conveying without words how much she doesn't believe that statement. It makes him fidget in his seat guiltily, before blurting, "Just a tad tired, I fear."

"Oh, how come?" She hoists the files higher again, steadying them with her other hand shortly before they slip, but keeps her eyes firmly on Lucifer. He doesn't like her scrutiny. And she almost feels bad for using it so shamelessly to her advantage. But he's so incredibly tight-lipped – and stubborn about everything concerning his health and feelings that she suppresses the urge to apologise. His eyes dart across the room nervously, flicking from her face to somewhere above her left shoulder to his lap and back to her face.

"I suppose I just didn't get enough sleep the last few nights." Her brows knit in concern, which somehow prompts him to give a further explanation, "It's just business at Lux, and helping the Detective. – Amenadiel's a nuisance recently – well, not just recently."

"Maybe you've piled a bit too much on your plate recently?" His expression darkens and he huffs irritated, fingers flicking invisible dust off his trousers as he draws himself up to his full height, albeit still staying seated. She frowns at his posture.

"I can't just abandon Lux, now can I? Nor the Detective. She relies on my unique input, Mu-Charlotte." He immediately looks embarrassed at the almost slip-up, but Charlotte doesn't mind. It doesn't feel wrong to have him call her 'mum'. She more than understands his occasional mistake.

"But I assume I could give Amenadiel the slip. He's a righteous bother. You wouldn't believe the things he comes up with." In a poor attempt to gloss over his lapse, Lucifer ploughs right on in his usual manner, averts his eyes to watch his fingers fiddle with his cuff links and tries to put on a show of nonchalance. It's disconcerting how fast he switches between emotions without actually dealing with them, she thinks.

"I'm not saying you should just drop everything," she soothes, interrupting his ramblings and making him snap his head back to look at her. "Just listen to your body and take it easy."

He tilts his head. She assumes that his slowness is caused in equal parts by fatigue and confusion about her proposal.

"How does one take it easy when running the most successful club in LA?" he asks, with a twinge of mockery, face contorting tauntingly. And she does not like that tone of voice at all. Charlotte narrows her eyes, mouth setting in a hard line and it suffices to pull him back in line as he squirms in his chair, wincing, eyes once again drawn to his lap.

"For starters," she says sternly. "One – and by 'one' I mean you – could leave the club be, and retire early."

"I'm afraid, it's not that easy," he hedges, chancing a glance at her and quickly changes his tone upon her glare. "But I suppose Lux will not need my personal attendance every night. – Tonight, for example?"

"Splendid. Then make sure to go to bed early," she says, tone soft again, and smiles at him. She squeezes his shoulder affectionately and he nods slowly, wide-eyed. Satisfied, she pats his cheek one last time before carrying on towards her desk. Only once she sits down, does she realise that she's just sent the Devil, the actual Devil, to bed. And he didn't seem to mind that much.

The next day, she finds Lucifer again hovering over Detective Decker's desk and by the look on Chloe's face thoroughly annoying her. She takes an unobserved moment to catalogue his change in demeanour and finds it satisfying. He looks well rested and alert, a stark contrast to his slouched posture the day before. She nods to herself, pleased, before returning to her desk.