Chapter 2: Biblical Bombshell and Sobering Suggestion

Lucifer caught the bullet in his left shoulder, the impact thrusting him back into the bar, but he recovered quickly enough.

"I cannot believe that you just—" He straightened, inspecting the wound with unnecessary precision. "—ruined my new suit. It's Armani." He concealed no part of how utterly scandalous he found the crime.

The detective, for her part, looked even more stunned than he was.

"Why didn't you move?" she demanded.

Lucifer pinned her with an incredulous look. "Aside from the fact that you deliberately told me not to?"

"You can move fast," she practically accused him. Her eyes were wild behind her weapon, which hadn't lowered an inch. "I know you can. I saw you when Nick shot at Josh, you were across the clearing in an instant, but I just… I couldn't make heads or tails of how you did it. And then I saw Jimmy, and he kept saying these things, calling you the devil, like you've been boasting, but I never actually believed, not until I—and you—"

Oh bloody hell.

"So I'm out a couple grand because of some failed science experiment?" he sighed. "Hate to break it to you, but I'm not Superman. 'Faster than a speeding bullet' isn't part of my tagline. Thank goodness." He glanced at his shoulder again, mournfully. "Seriously, Detective, that's a fine piece of artwork you just blew away. You can inform the LAPD that they'll be receiving my bill."

She wasn't even looking at him; her eyes had zeroed in on the article in question. "No bullet wound," she whispered.

"That's right, and before you ask, no, it didn't ricochet off me like the Man of Steel. Through and through, like a champ. But feel free to frisk me again for Kevlar, if you like." She was shaking her head, still trapped in disbelief, until finally he took pity. "Right, then. I suppose we're due for a proper chat, you and I. Drink?" he offered, indicating the bar. "You missed last call but I suppose I could scrounge up something for one of LA's finest…. Civilian-shooting notwithstanding."

Only then did the detective exhale and lower her gun, which, all in all, was probably the wisest decision she'd made all night.

"Well, I hope you're happy," Lucifer told her several minutes later. The pair had seen little progress in the time since, despite the two shots he'd already served her. "On top of everything, that shot you fired also cost me a rather expensive bottle of bourbon. Did you have to aim for the good stuff?"

He had been angling for his customary disarming wit, since the detective usually couldn't resist taking the bait. This time, however, she seemed hell-bent on keeping him in the dark.

This wasn't going as smoothly as he'd hoped. His shrink seemed to take the devil bombshell well enough, certainly better than most, though she still maintained the illusion that he was speaking through some theological metaphor in order to explain a much less cosmic identity crisis. That, and the carnal benefits more than compensated for whatever veracities she might have discovered since.

Perhaps the good doctor wasn't the best yardstick, then.

Lucifer reached for the bottle. "Another?" He didn't wait for an answer.

"Okay," the detective accepted without looking up. "Okay."

"Are you, actually?" He leaned forward, peering at her across the bar. "You're not about to have some sort of psychotic break, are you?" He wanted to affect her, yes, but reuniting her with Jimmy Barnes in that capacity was hardly what he had in mind.

Her chest heaved with visible effort to come to grips. He'd be lying if he said he didn't appreciate the view. "I'm just… readjusting my entire worldview, that's all."

"Try yoga. I'm told it's terribly relaxing."

Still she didn't look at him. "It's true, then. You're… him. You're actually the Lucifer." Then she downed the third shot.

Lucifer poured another, enjoying the awed undertones of her realization. "Finally caught up with the rest of the class, have you? I suppose better late than never. Yes, Detective, it's true. All of it. Well, except for all the bad PR," he revised, thinking back to the third-rate, sideshow charlatan he'd punished only yesterday. "Salem witch hunts, Nazi Germany, Simon Cowell…. Honestly, you humans are quite adept at creating your own devils without handing me all the credit."

She nodded dully, the greater complexities of the English language still eluding her. Lucifer savored the advantage like a fine wine, though it was slowly dawning on him that his palate was changed. Truth be told, he vastly preferred her pointing a gun at him. "I have to say, Detective, this is hardly the gritty interrogation I was expecting. Far be it from me to keep you in suspense. Go on. Ask your questions."

That got her attention. Her head snapped up, and those eyes—he was gratified to see they had regained a spark of their former fire. In them he caught a glimpse of the secrets she kept tucked away, far beyond the reach of his powers of persuasion—buried treasure taunting him beyond the flames.

"However," he amended, suddenly inspired, "this Q&A is a two-way street."

"Meaning what?" she frowned.

"Meaning you give me a glimpse behind the Great Wall of Chloe Decker, and in return I'll give you a peak at the goods. Here." He tapped his forehead. "Rare, exclusive offer. Serious buyers only. Interested?"

She sat up straight, looking genuinely tempted for the first time in their acquaintance. The sight nearly gave him pause. Such a strange thing, how forfeiting a piece of control to the one who made a consistent habit of seizing it gave him such a thrill. Something to ponder on Dr. Martin's couch, he supposed.

The detective quirked a brow. "'I'll show you mine if you show me yours'?"

Lucifer beamed, both at the allusion and at the fact that she was clearly taking everything much better in stride. Not to mention the hunger he read in those eyes. He recognized it. She wanted answers as much as he did. "Couldn't have said it better myself."

Hunger faded to suspicion as she thought it over. "You're serious?"

"Of course. You're insatiably curious, I'm insatiably curious…. Could be the deal of the century for both of us."

"So—what? We just trade questions, no tricks?"

He made a show of crossing his heart. "Scout's honor."

"If you're so curious," she pressed, "why not just pump Nick for Intel again? Figured you two were pals now."

"Oh yes, we're about to build a clubhouse, get matching tattoos, that sort of thing." Lucifer rolled his eyes. "It isn't just your salacious hot tub history I'm interested in, Detective. Besides, I'd rather get answers straight from the source, not from the vermin of the world. I imagine you feel the same. Unless you actually do plan on conveying my regards to Jimmy?"

Still, she stared at him with such unmasked skepticism that it bordered on offensive. "How do I know I can trust you?"

"Well, unless you have a magic eight ball stashed somewhere, you don't," he said simply. "Or perhaps it would help if I swore on a stack of Bibles?"

"I'm serious, Lucifer."

"As am I." And this time, he was. "Honestly, you act as though I haven't been trying to spoon-feed you the truth all along. It's you who's the closed book. So if anyone's getting the short straw here, it isn't you."

Frankly, of all the bad press surrounding his title, it was that one slanderous misconception that Lucifer despised most. The devil did not lie. He had no need to. The truth was terrible enough on its own—a notion that, more often than not, humans were too shortsighted to understand. He suspected that the rare exception was currently sitting across from him. Not that enlightenment freed her from the weight of that burden.

The detective's hand twitched toward the drink he'd poured what seemed an age ago, looking reluctant as ever to concede his point.

But even more reluctant to leave without answers.

One final push. "So what's it to be?"

He was gratified when her hesitation was only slight. "Fine. But I go first."

Lucifer smiled at the caveat, and her mouth pinched, clearly fighting the inclination to return it.

In front of her, the last drink went untouched.

A/N: I'm starting to realize that all Chloe and Lucifer do in my fics is drink and talk. Ha.