Percy woke up groggily, his mind feeling like it'd just gone nine rounds with a Roman legion. Whatever that monster had been, there was something about them that set off Percy's instincts like a fire alarm. It wasn't some helpful instinct like the one guiding him to San Francisco, either—no, all this one told him was that he needed to GET AWAY GET AWAY GET AWAY, which was… well, honestly speaking, pretty useless.

Like, Percy didn't want to insult his instincts, since they'd gotten him out of some pretty sticky situations. But when a monster had simultaneously gripped you by the shoulders hard enough to crush them and rummaged through your mind—well, your instincts telling you to get away from that was sort of the moment where you had to put your foot down and go, "well, no duh, instincts".

Seriously, that particular instinct had nothing but cripple him, keeping him from handling the situation with that monster. Percy could confidently say he could have endured all the suffering that monster had put him through (although it likely would have taken all of his remaining willpower). Percy could have gotten through all of it, could have taken the pain and suffering then fled once it was done and the strangely human-looking monster had discarded him.

But that instinct, that animalistic part of his mind which had single-mindedly screamed at the rest of Percy even as his mind was violated and his bones were crushed? It had made it impossible for Percy to marshal even the meagerest amount of willpower together. So when the ordeal was over, and the monster in sheep's clothing had dropped him onto the shore, his body had been incapable of doing anything but passing out.

Still, Percy mused. At least the monster's gone now. Percy's instincts weren't making a peep, so Percy really wasn't in any rush to leave now that he was finally somewhere comfortable. Instead, as Percy lazily stretched his arms out and levered his body into an upright position, Percy luxuriated in the comfort of what he was pretty sure was his very own hospital bed. I mean, why else would he currently be feeling a breeze on his backside?

Honestly, however this had happened, it was pretty nice. His arms were somehow healed, he'd finally gotten a decent rest that wasn't some variation of a comatose state, and the bed was surprisingly comfortable for a hospital bed. So as Percy opened his eyes, he was really hoping for an amazing day full of success that would make up for the last two days' figurative trainwreck.

Then he saw the monster from the beach sitting in front of his bed, and those hopes that had been airily soaring through the sky only moments before abruptly got themselves struck down by lightning.

The instinct to flee hadn't come in yet, but Percy knew full well what this guy could do— and he did not want to go through that again. In a single smooth motion, Percy rolled out of his bed and into a crouch, his right hand somehow instinctively drawing Riptide from the hip even despite the hospital gown's lack of pockets.

After a moment where the monster didn't move, Percy began to slowly stand, uncapping Riptide as he did so to warn the monster off. Now normally, when a monster saw Percy's sword, there'd be a moment of sheer terror on their face, something Lupa had taught came from the monster's survival instincts.

So when that didn't happen with this guy, when this monster just stayed sitting without a care in the world—well, that seriously freaked Percy out. But Percy had been through enough weirdness for a lifetime these last couple months, and so he pressed on. Percy dashed forward, swinging his sword just as Lupa had taught him in a picture-perfect decapitating strike aimed right at the monster's neck.

But what freaked Percy out enough that he stopped moving was when the stranger casually stood, raised his hand, and caught Riptide on his palm. The sword had hit flesh, there was no doubt about that, but Percy's sword couldn't even cut into it. Was this man even a monster at all?

Still oddly at-ease (though at this point, Percy was starting to think the stranger had a good reason for it), the maybe-monster spoke up. "Please, sit down and put the sword away. I'm not here to fight."

Percy was still pretty amped-up, and he really didn't like the idea of being unarmed around this guy, but what was he supposed to do? It's not like having Riptide around would actually help.

Grudgingly, Percy sat down on the edge of his bed, sitting across from the stranger. The whole time, Percy kept his eyes glued on them, never taking them off the stranger even as Percy carefully set Riptide by his side on the hospital bed.

All that done, Percy decided to rip the band-aid off and get this whole thing over with. "So if you're not here to fight, what are you here for? 'Cause I'm pretty sure it's not underwater basket-weaving, and that's really the only reason you'd want me here besides killing me." Maybe it wasn't the best idea to provoke the indestructible super-monster, but what could he say? Percy wasn't exactly the brainiest of demigods. He was pretty sure half Lupa's wolves had been laughing at him whenever she tried to teach him stuff.

But the super-monster didn't look pissed off with him at all. Instead, they just gave Percy this quiet, annoyed, maybe a bit disappointed sigh, then leaned back in the chair and started talking at him. "Honestly, it's quite simple— I'm quite aware that you very desperately desire to understand this… supernatural world you've been thrown into. Well, I have the knowledge you desire, and as it is rather sensitive information, I would like to practice revealing that information with you."

Okay, this—this felt too good to be true. When the stranger had said that, had said that they would fulfill Percy's greatest desire as some sort of practice run, Percy had felt so close to what he wanted he could feel it. It wasn't like the feelings his instincts had fed him on the way to San Francisco—those had been vaguer, and had been less about learning and more about finding. This—this felt like Percy could reach out and touch what he wanted if only he accepted this person's offer, like the desires he'd fulfill by taking the offer would be beyond anything he'd ever known.

But Percy knew nothing about whoever this person was. Who's to say they even knew anything about the "supernatural world"? Who's to say they weren't lying about all of it, just trying to dupe some clueless, amnesiac demigod?

So, though it was agonizing, though it was ever so difficult, Percy knew he had to turn the offer down. Therefore, even as his heart was pounding through his chest like an up-tempo snare drum, Percy opened his mouth to let loose. "Look, I'm gonna be honest here. You're pretty shady, and literally the only reason I have to listen to anything you say is that I can't kill you. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm pretty good at killing monsters, but the ability to survive one half-blood's murder attempt isn't exactly the best reason for me to believe you can or will reveal the secrets of the universe to me."

For a while after that, the hospital room was silent. Percy was starting to wish he'd maybe held back a bit when he rejected the strange individual, because now they were really starting to look pissed. Their face had an expression on it that reminded Percy of when they'd crushed his shoulders into dust, and as the stranger stood up, they moved with a forced calm that spoke of barely-restrained rage.

The stranger's eyes were wide and more than a little crazed, their teeth once more angrily bared in a predatory snarl as they began to speak, their voice's harsh tones thunderously echoing throughout the room. "You think I'm a monster, do you? Some clueless, inane sycophant to whatever forces of evil marshal against your pantheon? Oh, no. I am no monster, despite all the blame you mortals have attempted to assign to me."

They were beginning to pace now, only a few feet from where Percy sat. Their shoes were drumming a steady beat on the floor, the increasing tempo speaking to their growing anger. Their hands were clenching and unclenching, bone-shattering strength contained in each flex of the muscles.

But their voice was the most terrible of all, because the pain in it told Percy that the stranger's control was all too close to being gone completely. "They all think I'm a monster, some evil torturer of innocent souls—but they're wrong! I punished the evils of the world, and even then, I hated every aspect of those horrible works of mine."

Then… then the pacing stopped. The stranger was now standing in front of Percy. There was a strange tranquility that had spread across the stranger's face, and they suddenly seemed so vulnerable that Percy couldn't help but sympathize with them for a moment.

"But they can't help being wrong, can they? I tell them I'm simply Lucifer Morningstar, an angel forever condemned by unfair infamy among the peoples of this world."

And then the being leaned forward, uncomfortably close, and Percy saw as their eyes began to burn. If you'd seen it in a recording, or from a distance, you might think that was all there was to it—fiery eyes—and you'd think, Well, that can't be so bad. But as Percy looked into those eyes, he saw all the pain and tortures which Lucifer knew, all the agonizing half-lives which every one of the billions of souls under Lucifer's reign had experienced for eons. It was pain beyond pain, misery beyond compare, suffering beyond anything else the world had ever known. It was the world's greatest horror, and in those horrible eyes Percy saw all that the grand horror's Maestro had borne witness to over millennia spent conducting it.

Percy looked into Lucifer's burning eyes, and as Lucifer continued to speak, Percy could not tear his eyes away. "But then they see me, truly see me, and what am I to them?"

And despite it all, despite the distraction and the pain and everything Percy feared might happen if he spoke such a thing to Lucifer, a response slipped past Percy's lips. "The Devil," he said. "you're the Devil."

A sad, bittersweet acceptance crept across the angel's face, as he sat back down in his chair and reclined back. "Why yes, I am. Now, do you believe that I can tell you what you want to know?"

Percy did believe that. But the idea that the Devil, a being he'd just gotten a firsthand look at the evils of, would do something as altruistic as this simply to get better at it—it made no sense. If Percy agreed to get this information, he'd be playing into some greater, devilish plan. He'd inevitably be causing others suffering.

Percy desperately wanted to know what had happened to him, wanted to know the true nature of the world he was now a part of. But that selfish desire wasn't enough for him to commit some great evil.

But Lucifer must have noticed Percy's hesitance, because he rocked forward in his chair, speaking now with a tone full of annoyance. "Ah, yes. You know, I'd forgotten what it was like for people to be wary of making deals with me because of my devilishness. Still, I know you're not going to lose that fear, so I suppose I can sweeten the pot. If you agree to my deal, I'll also agree to help you in finding whomever Annabeth is. Will that do?"

And that was it. Oh, to be sure Percy did his best to weigh the outcomes, to balance finding Annabeth with the possibility that accepting Lucifer's offer might unleash untold evils. But the decision had been made the instant Lucifer presented him with the possibility of finding Annabeth, of returning to that blond-haired, grey-eyed person who he was certain he would sacrifice everything for.

"All right," the Roman demigod said. "It's a deal."

Cheerful once more, Lucifer stood. "Wonderful. Now, first of all, we need to get you checked out of this hospital. Are you homeless? Because if you are, I'm afraid you'll have to stay with me for a while while I get you sorted out."

As Lucifer headed towards the door, Percy stood as well to follow after him. As Percy did so, he capped Riptide, setting it into his pocket in pen form to stow it away. It was only after Percy's hand whiffed past his hospital gown, the pen having clattered to the ground, that Percy realized he still didn't have any pockets.

Frustrated at the thought of losing some of the few links to his past, Percy paused in front of his room's glass doorway and called out to Lucifer. "Hey. While we're doing all that, is it possible I could, y'know, grab my stuff? Maybe put some actual clothes on?"

Lucifer paused for a second at that, sighing in what Percy was pretty sure was annoyance. For a moment, he said nothing.

Then, as he began to once more walk briskly away, Lucifer gave Percy an answer. "We'll grab them on the way out. Now, please, let's get out of this Dad-forsaken place. I've been stuck here long enough."


Lucifer didn't really understand why the mortal had been so insistent on getting his raggedy old stuff back, but Lucifer had honored the request regardless.

Once that was done with, though, Lucifer had headed back home to Lux as fast as he could.

The young mortal had been overwhelmed by the nightclub, continually twitching for his pen-sword as every loud noise and strobing light seemed to startle him. But Lucifer had guided him through, moving quickly and efficiently through the crowded club as the mortal followed behind. Then they'd gotten into the elevator that went up to his penthouse, and the mortal had seemed to relax, so Lucifer assumed the problem was solved.

The elevator dinged open, and Lucifer strode through to make a beeline for the bar. It had been a long day, and he desperately needed just a second to relax. Pouring himself a glass of single malt, Lucifer then glanced over at the mortal, trying to assess his age. Hmm. If he is a minor, he's borderline. Lucifer paused for a second to think about it, trying to think of what the Detective would do in a situation like this. Hmm. Well, thinking about it a bit more, she'd probably already be out-of-sorts about the whole 'crushing the mortal's shoulders into dust' thing. Honestly, Lucifer was lucky that when a wave had washed over the mortal, whatever mystical powers he possessed had healed him of his wounds. That would not have been a fun conversation to have with Ms. Lopez.

Still, the fact remained that Lucifer had probably already gone a bit too far to care about drinking age. So, shrugging, Lucifer poured the mortal a glass as well. It's hardly like the pantheons care about age, anyway.

Lucifer went over to lounge in the closer of his two chairs, taking the drinks with him to set on the end table at his side. Sipping from his glass and luxuriating in its taste for a moment, Lucifer noticed the mortal was still standing by the elevator.

Lucifer called out at the mortal, gesturing him over as he did so. "Well, come on then, mortal. The couch isn't going to bite you. By the way, would you like a drink? I'm quite certain you're going to want it by the end of this."

The mortal came over to the couch, stiffly sitting down in a way that made clear they still weren't comfortable around him. "Yeah, no. I'm good." he said, entirely unapologetic. He obviously wasn't willing to impair himself while nearby someone he had such clear misgivings about.

Was this how informing the Detective was going to go? If so, Lucifer wasn't sure he could bear it. That much distrust, in the eyes of someone he cared about as much as the Detective? It would be utterly torturous.

Forcing himself not to think about it, Lucifer moved on to the task at hand. Once I explain things, the distrust will surely go away. But where to start?

Well, he supposed the beginning was as good a place as any.

Taking a sip of his drink to wet his vocal cords, Lucifer began to speak. "I'll begin my explanation at the same place where everything began—what humans nowadays know as the Big Bang." OK, that was the stage set. Now for the important parts. But was the mortal even listening? As he looked at the mortal, they seemed to be fiddling with their pen-sword rather than paying attention, and Lucifer very much did not want to go through this awkward conversation again with the same mortal.

So, Lucifer attempted to bring their attention back. "Hey, mortal. The secrets of the universe are over here. Are you even listening?"

The mortal turned their head to look over at Lucifer, now appearing genuinely annoyed with him. "Yeah, I am. Beginning of everything, humans know it as the Big Bang, yada yada. By the way, you do know I have a name, right? 'Cause you keep just calling me 'mortal' like it's my name, but you must know it's not. Right?"

Well, yes. Of course the mortal had a name. But had Lucifer ever bothered to ask it? Thinking through it, he… never really had. How odd.

Ah, well. It wasn't like the name problem was unfixable. Though honestly, the disrespect was a touch infuriating. His voice indignant, Lucifer began to respond to the mortal of a currently unknown name. "Well yes, I do know that you havea name. Though I will admit, it would be quite helpful if you'd stop fussing about me not knowing it and just tell me, thank you very much."

His voice just as indignant (although with none of Lucifer's charm), the mortal responded. "It's Percy. Percy Jackson. Perseus if you prefer, though monsters are the only ones who've called me that so far."

Huh. It seemed that little response did the trick for both of his problems. Now Lucifer had a name for Percy, and Percy seemed to be paying quite rapt (if a touch rage-fueled) attention to him now. Lovely.

Sitting back in his chair's comfortable cushions with satisfaction, Lucifer began to speak once more. "Well, anyway, back to the story. So the Big Bang is what the mortals call it, but the thing is—that term is rather more… ugh… literal… than the humans know." Lucifer grimaced a bit at that mental image, doing his best not to think too hard about it. "So my Mum and Dad do the nasty, right, and since they're divine beings of light and energy rather than… well… us, the universe and the angels and all that pop out as a result."

Here, Lucifer paused for dramatic effect—and also so he could try to blot out the mental images which just. Kept. Coming. "Only, the thing is, it wasn't quite as simple as all that. See, Mum and Dad were kinky buggers. And Dad in particular was a control freak, so when they created the universe, Dad had set up their particular…" Ugh.

Lucifer swore, then and there, that if anyone ever discovered a way to mass-produce brain bleach that he would immediately buy an angelic lifetime's , he'd made a promise to explain this to Percy, and so Lucifer pressed on (albeit with difficulty). "...lustmaking that night, so that a universe with some very specific rules was created. See, while Mum just wanted kids—aka myself and the rest of the angels—Dad wanted absolute control over everything in their universe. But, see, Mum would hardly accept the idea of Dad creating and recreating the universe every time he wanted to change the littlest thing, since that would murder her children every time they did that."

At this point, Lucifer was really getting into the story, and—better yet!—Lucifer could tell that Percy's interest was being held not just by his anger at Lucifer, but also by a genuine interest in the story. That was a good sign. Maybe all he'd need to do with the Detective was explain his world to her, and then they could move on. That would be wonderful.

But Lucifer digressed. Continuing with the story before he could lose his rapt audience, he now spoke animatedly, excited by the idea of so easily earning the Detective's acceptance. "So Dad made a compromise, and created this thing called 'faith'. Now, you, being the clueless mortal that you are, probably know faith as belief that something is real. But the list of things you don't know about it—well, suffice it to say you could probably scale Kilimanjaro were you to use it as a ladder."

At that, Lucifer smirked. Though he'd recently been through certain events which made it… difficult… to appreciate the hilarity of humans not believing in the greater supernatural world, this experience was bringing the world's longest-running joke all the way back for Lucifer. I mean, how could the dumbfounded look on a crook's face after you bent their gun in half ever not be funny?

Oh, this was getting fun. "Still, that list can probably be boiled down to two things for now. That way, you might have some life in you to use this information during." Percy went a bit pale when he heard that, and internally, Lucifer winced. Lucifer did his best not to use such loopholes in his deals and favors—it seriously hurt his chances of future customers—but Percy didn't know that.

Doing his best to keep that little slip-up from getting permanently stuck in Percy's memory, Lucifer decided to just keep talking like it hadn't even happened. "First, faith gives power to those who receive it. When you believe something, whatever's on the other end of that connection—be it person, place, thing, concept, or whatever else it is—gets power. Back when it was just Dad, Mum, and us angels, we angels were the only ones who could believe. So all the universe's faith power got sent over to Mum and Dad. Even when I got sent down to Hell, guess what? Still knew Dad existed, still believed in him enough to fuel his bloody omnipotence! And then dear old Dad decided to blow up what remained of our big, happy family—and so he made the very first humans.

Lucifer was grinning, now, fondly recalling his participation in the world's very first "Devil's Threeway". Eve had been so very flexible… Ahh. Those were the good old days. Back before humanity had decided he was evil incarnate, back when the only pretense anyone needed to be welcome in someone's home was the promise of a good time.

It was a fond set of memories, and Lucifer could tell that his enjoyment of them was bleeding into his tone as he continued the story. "Now, personally, that was pretty nice for me, because at that point I'd been stuck alone in Hell for a long, long time, with only the occasional visit to an empty mortal plane to cheer me up. I was hardly able to visit my siblings, locked away from the Silver City as I was. So humans—those beings all my siblings thought of as mere pitiful meat sacks—were the first thing to make my life interesting in eons. And then, by the time they were doing the whole false idol thing, giving their faith to things other than Dad, I was really hoping they'd start making Dad's life interesting also, start taking away those fancy toys of omnipotence and omniscience he'd always so enjoyed."

At this point, Lucifer was gesturing rather wildly, with his glass set carefully by his side so as not to spill a drop. He wasn't drunk—angelic constitutions were far too strong for that—but the sheer emotion of the memory had gotten the better of him.

Lucifer could practically see the moment in his mind's eye, could hear that nameless, damned soul telling him that he'd renounced the God of his fathers. That had been a time before demons, when Lucifer had been Hell's torturer rather than overseer. Lucifer had heard that, and he'd been certain that his Father's works must have begun coming undone. And so Lucifer had flown up to press up against the edge of Heaven, hopeful that he might see his siblings for the first time in millennia. But the edge had burnt just as it always had since that fateful day of rebellion, with a pain beyond imagining, and Lucifer had never dared test his Father in that way since.

And that's when Michael came down, to gloat at Lucifer for daring to test their Father. It was rather funny, actually. Michael, in his gloating, had accidentally revealed the secret which ensured Father's power would never die. And though Michael had been disgusted with himself when he realized what he'd done, Lucifer knew Michael at least consoled himself with the fact that he'd shared it with a fellow Celestial. But now, Lucifer was about to share it not just with any mortal, but with a mortal born of the supposedly heretical pantheons.

Take that, Michael, Lucifer thought to himself as he continued to lecture. "But you see, my Father wasn't diminished, even despite all the false, faith-based pantheons that were popping up all over the space, all using his faith. And that's where the second thing about faith comes in—it flows along chains of origin. Now, this is a rather complex concept, and even I don't really understand it all that well in the abstract. You'd want to talk to one of my more obedient siblings up in the Silver City for that. No, to explain this, I think I'll need an example. But which pantheon, which pantheon…"

Interrupting Lucifer's musing, Percy finally spoke up. Though somehow, even after all these rather impressive revelations, his casual disrespect remained. "Why not talk about the Roman pantheon? You know, since this is supposed to be about me and all."

Taken aback by the irreverence, particularly from a mortal that knew his true nature, Lucifer took a moment to think. He's a Roman? I suppose that means he's a demigod, then, going by his rather mundane, human appearance.

Still, the Roman pantheon actually worked quite well as an example. So Lucifer supposed he could play along. Maybe, if this worked well, Lucifer could use the Romans as an example for the Detective.

Having gotten past his shock and reached a decision, Lucifer continued to lecture the disrespectful demigod. "Mm. Yes, I suppose the Romans work well as an example. As a Roman, you probably know the false gods of Rome shaped the Roman Empire from beginning to end, and by the time Rome drifted away from its whole polytheism schtick, it was undeniable that Rome's principles were entirely the result of Rome's faith-based gods."

Percy looked quite angered by something Lucifer had said there. Annoyed, as he'd just been getting to the good part, Lucifer tried to address it. "Well, go on then. Whatever's bothering you, get it off your chest. It's not doing you any good, all crammed up in there."

Percy, at long last, must have decided to take Lucifer's words at face value. Because, in that moment, it was undeniable that he was letting his frustrations be known. "No, I didn't know that about Rome, actually. That's why I agreed to this stupid deal. Are you seriously that stupid, to not get that?'

The words hurt. Not because of what they meant, not really. No, what hurt was the fact that Dr. Linda had taught what this was, and how easily he could imagine the same occurring with the Detective. Percy was lashing out after being confronted with the truth, and Lucifer could imagine (albeit with difficulty) the Detective lashing out in much the same way after the revelation she'd experienced.

Lucifer couldn't let on that the words had hurt him, though. That would just damage the situation further. Therefore Lucifer began to speak once more, the hitch in his voice barely visible even despite the magnitude of the pain it came from. "And that's when this second thing about faith comes in, because even if the everyday Roman believed in dear old Dad, they also believed in the existence of Rome. So because Rome was the result of Rome's faith-based gods, every drop of that belief in the Roman Empire's existence flowed to them."

Now, Lucifer had to connect the one example to the rest of the ways this rule of faith manifested. Amenadiel had always been good at this part whenever he explained it to Lucifer, but Lucifer had never really gotten the hang of it. It was really quite sad now that he thought about it—Amenadiel coming down to lecture Lucifer about metaphysics had been the only contact Lucifer had with another angel since Michael. But he hadn't even paid that much attention, more focused on needling the upright prick that Amenadiel was at the time.

So, doing his best possible impression of Amenadiel's metaphysics lecture series (honestly, that was basically what it was. Lucifer was certain that whenever Amenadiel had gotten breaks from his whole 'Right Hand of God' thing, he'd taught at some symposium in the Silver City), Lucifer heaved in a nice, deep breath, then began to finish off his explanation. "Chains of origin such as that are the reason that lowercase-g gods are nearly impossible to kill, they're the reason that long-unworshipped pantheons like the Romans survive to the modern day, and they're the reason you just have to throw 'omni-' on every adjective you can think of when you're trying to describe Dad's powers.. All that power, all because ten thousand millennia and one kinky bedroom game ago, Dad created everything. And now, since every person in the universe has the common sense to believe in at least something, every drop of the world's faith still flows to dear old Dad. Dad's used that faith to fuel everything he's ever done, including us angels—and though I recently learned angelsself-actualize, we still don't exist without Dad. To use what should be a rather relatable metaphor for you—dad is the generator, and us angels are homes without any back-up generators."

Stopping there, Lucifer immediately began to gasp for breath. Angels may not need air, but it was still deeply unpleasant for them to go without it, and even Lucifer's well-trained lungs didn't typically undergo such harsh challenges as what they'd just endured.

Once Lucifer finally had some air in his lungs, he pulled his attention away from himself, and glanced over at Percy to see how he was taking it.

Percy was sitting still for the first time since he'd sat down, his face utterly blank. It was completely and utterly, the most out of character thing he'd seen from the sardonic half-blood so far. Apparently, the Amenadiel impression hadn't gone over too well. Though, speaking honestly, that impression wasn't exactly Lucifer's best work. Still, it really wasn't Lucifer's fault. Amenadiel simply didn't have his natural charm.

Glad at least that his audience hadn't stormed out, Lucifer mused on the results of this test run. Well, obviously, Lucifer would need to be more careful about assuming the Detective already understood some aspects of the Celestial world. That was rather helpful information! Maybe he should also-

Suddenly, Lucifer's awareness was forced to return to the world at large, as Percy, though he still seemed to be in some strange haze, had said something to Lucifer.

Right. He's still here. Probably shouldn't drift off quite yet. Now, what was it that Percy had said?

Ah, yes. Silently, Lucifer handed Percy the still-full glass of single malt. Percy tilted the glass around for a second, watching as the amber liquid within shifted around, almost twinkling in the light. Then, with no hesitation, the quite clearly in-over-his-head demigod downed the glass.

If that was Percy's first time drinking, Lucifer had to say. He was impressed.

Though apparently the alcohol had still burned on its way down, as Percy's voice was now underlaid by a subtle, yet omnipresent growl. "So," the demigod spoke, his voice unsettlingly devoid of all emotion except, perhaps, an inkling of hope. "That's the explanation. Now, how are you going to help me find Annabeth?"

Ah! That, at least, Lucifer had a ready answer for. Perhaps he could end this encounter on a high note!

And indeed, perhaps that might have occurred had Lucifer's phone not gone off with a rather loud buzzing at that very moment. Grabbing at it, Lucifer saw that he had only an hour until his weekly appointment with Dr. Linda—barely enough time to even reach her, what with the current state of LA's traffic.

Hurriedly, Lucifer did his best to tap out a text message to Maze outlining the situation. Honestly, Lucifer thought the plan he'd devised on the ride back to Lux had been quite ingenious. Though Lucifer had planned to just let Maze's attempt at murdering him go without a price (as he knew Maze would never apologize for it), it couldn't be denied that she would owe him for doing so. Therefore, all he had to do was make his price be 'help Percy find Annabeth', and he had secured the best hunter in the world as Percy's personal Annabeth-tracker.

Though he should probably let Percy know she'd be coming before he left. "Sorry, got to go. Dr. Linda would be furious with me if I was late. But you should probably have a kip or something!" Lucifer called out, stepping into the elevator even as he did so. "You'll want to be well-rested if you're going to meet Mazikeen!"

And with that, Lucifer left, joyful in the fact that he'd made progress in handling the Detective's revelation—and, perhaps, a bit satisfied in the fact that he'd changed someone's life for the better.