"This was white," Lucifer says, and he's folding a shirt that's technically his but has made its rounds around the apartment's inhabitants (with the last wearer being Gabriel before he handed it off to Raphael to put in the washing machine). Raphael observes the light pink it's been stained and their brother's frustrated expression.

"That color makes you look prettier," they flatter, all the better to see Lucifer preen under their attention and to avoid the fact that its new shade is definitely their fault for setting the water to hot rather than cold.