Corbett looked at Ella and gave her his endearing smile as he shrugged into his jacket. "So, uh, are you still coming over?"

"Yeah. Just...give me a minute, okay?"

He nodded and wandered away, but one look at her reluctant face made him realize he had not gone far enough. He gave an impartial wave and a modest chuckle as he backed up towards the elevator, quickly stepping in and pushing the button with haste. His smile was already gone as the doors were closing, his eyes traveling over the elevator floor.

Alone with Lucifer, Ella sighed as she walked over to the bar.

"Hm...I'm surprised you're still here, Miss Lopez."

"Yeah. We need to talk. Well, actually, we don't...really...need to, but I just have one...teeny, tiny favor," she began, and paused at the look on his face. "What?"

"Well, I know what it means when you start communicating in Shatner. But go on. Favors are kind of my jam. Tell me, what do you desire?"

Ella didn't recognize the pull he had on other people. She always was a talkative one, and it had already been her inclination to tell him. "I want to see it."

"Pardon me. See it?"

"Your other side. Your...scary side," she finished in a dramatic whisper.

He began chuckling. "You? Hugs-make-the-world-go-round Miss Lopez?" he asked, before his chuckles overtook him. He shook his head, trying to pour another drink with trembling hands. "Gosh, that's the funniest darn thing I've heard this millennia."

For once she said nothing, and he met her waiting gaze. "Very well," he sighed. "If you think you can handle it."

"Of course I can handle it. I―" Her response met an early demise as he quickly transformed, into the creature of nightmares. Red, puckered skin, like the flames of hell had burned him beyond recognition, but he was still alive. Still functioning. Realizing she was still breathing, Lucifer pressed the transformation. His glowing eyes were trained on hers even as his forehead began to break open. Even as bat-like wings suddenly unfurled behind him―the sound of tearing fabric barely audible above the pounding of her heart.

Finally he stopped changing. Ella couldn't prevent her eyes from roaming over his powerful chest as he ripped away the remaining shreds of his tattered shirt. The only outward sign that the transformation was unpleasant was his heavy breathing, which did wonderful things to his torso. Embarrassed that she was so obviously gawking, she forced her eyes back up to his face. He looked nothing like the Lucifer she knew and loved; he was bald, and every inch of him looked bruised and angry. Though she hadn't hurt him, even his eyes had a dangerous glint in their bloody depths.

Then he spoke, in an unfamiliar voice that should have sent shivers down her spine. "I told you," he rasped. Remaining in his devil form, he sipped delicately at his drink, finally hazarding a glance at her. She had managed to tear her eyes away and resorted to tracing her finger over the bar as she blinked back tears.

"You can't look at me, either, can you?" he asked, with an unusual taunt in his voice.

She looked at him, easily, showing no apparent sign of disgust. "No, I can."

He huffed a small sigh. "So you can," he said, and gyrated his cup. "I underestimated you..."

"Oh, it's...pfft. No biggie. People do that to me all the time," her voice finally broke, and her eyes welled up.

Lucifer wanted to transform back and order her to leave. But she was not a demon, and she wasn't a servant. She was hugs-make-the-world-go-round Miss Lopez, a sunny scientist in a perfectly solid form, and the way she smiled at him through her tears made his humiliation dissolve.

"You should express your feelings, Miss Lopez. I know you have no trouble doing so. If you are afraid, I recommend you go to your favorite place and...chillax."

"I am. I am afraid, and you wanna know why?" she asked, and he shrugged. "Because I don't feel anything. I'm not afraid. Not of you!"

"Really?"

"Look, look," she said, and came around the bar to give him a hug. "See?"

"Right..." he said, and she detached.

"A-a-and―if I'm not afraid of you, why the hell am I afraid of spiders? That makes no sense," she added emphatically, motioning with her hands.

"Indeed."

"I'm... I'm messed up, Lucifer," she finally concluded, staring at him.

"It would appear so."

"Thanks, man."

"Well, maybe you should start seeing a psycholog..." His suggestion died on his lips, and she began to nod.

She turned to the counter and took one of the drinks he had poured. "I don't know what to do," she grumbled.

"That's an easy one, nothing."

"What?" she asked, and then gave him a Look. "You mean like just...just accept it."

He gave a distracted sigh as he tried not to look away from her or tap his fingers. He had lived for eons, surely he could spare a moment. He could, and needed to, separate himself from the mortals who had no choice but to make the most of their time. "Look, Miss Lopez―the hardest part is accepting the worst in someone, and you beat everyone hollow. Time and time again," he continued over her silent confusion, "No matter how terrifying someone is, no matter how awful they are...you have the strength, the courage, to love them anyway. Goodness me, even the devil has standards."

"What?" she repeated, this time with a much different tone.

"Yes, well, I would applaud you, if it didn't sicken me. After all, a woman of your intelligence..."

"You―I... Hey, you know, I may love everyone, but I won't sleep with anyone."

He frowned at her. "Miss Lopez! Who's talking about sleeping around?" he asked, and sputtered a little, "Of course you wouldn't sleep with me. I'm with the Detective, so we both know she's off-limits as well. The doctor, I think intimidates you too much, perhaps even more than I do."

Ella unconsciously mimicked his frown as she considered his words, and found them to be true.

"Look, can I circle back to the point I was trying to make?"

"Please!"

In his self-absorbed way of consolation, he lifted his fingers, without raising his wrist off his opposite hand. "All I was saying, Miss Lopez, is that if you can embrace the devil standing right by your side, then there should be nothing in the world preventing you from embracing yourself."

She met his eyes, and he held out his glass, as if to propose a toast. Observing her reticence, he spoke in an unusually gentle tone. "You're not as bad as you think."

"I'm not?"

"Oh, believe me. If those fighting a constant battle with a much deeper darkness can weasel their way into heaven, then it should be a cinch for you."

After a brief hesitation, she clinked his glass with hers.

Chloe opened her front door and stepped into her dark, quiet house, shattering the silence by dropping her keys into the bowl. "Trixie," she called, expecting her daughter to come out right away. It was only 9:30. But she didn't appear, and Chloe walked towards her bedroom. She still hated this damn house. Still hated sleeping in the killer's bedroom, although it was marginally better than making Trix do it; and she hated the killer's name, although it did instill the coincidence that caused the one interesting conversation with Ella that one time...but that wasn't more important than getting a good sleep. It wasn't more important than the way the hair on her arms suddenly stood up.

Every awkward silence felt tainted by Lily. Or Maze. Not that she would ever admit it.

"Trixie," she called again, but to no avail. Damn it, why did her daughter have to bribe the babysitter? She could have been too dim-witted to cook it up, or at least too cowardly to pull it off. Well, this is what she got for having a kid with Dan. Her eyes flitted around as she walked; the bathroom door was wide open, the light off. The patio door, locked. Kitchen, empty. Living room, empty. She started to reach for her gun, but forced her hand back to her side. She would not prowl through her home ready to fire; this was not a crime scene, not today. Still, she had to take a moment before nudging Trixie's bedroom door open. "Trix?" she asked softly, as her eyes moved over the shadows. There was nothing, not even the sound of breathing. Not even the lump of feet at the end of her bed, not even a crease in the blanket. Chloe fumbled for the light switch, gasping when she saw that her daughter's bedroom had been abandoned.

Chloe looked down as she took out her cell with trembling hands. She dialed her daughter's number.

"Hey, Mom!"

"Hey, Trix. Uh, listen, work didn't need me tonight after all," at least that part was true, "So it looks like I'm going to be home early."

"Yeah? That's...that's cool," Trixie stammered.

"Yeah! We could put on a movie, wear our pajamas, bake. I mean, unless you have plans."

"Nope. No plans. I'm just sitting at home anyway."

Chloe rubbed at her forehead, trying to figure out what happened to the honest kid she raised. "Okay, babe. I'll see you in a few minutes."

"Great."

Chloe hung up, pocketed her phone, and waited. Her anger, confusion and disappointment were enough to keep her from thinking about Lucifer. While she waited, she decided to fight fire with fire; Trixie had betrayed her trust, so she would invade her privacy. She needed to see why such a sweet girl would suddenly start sneaking out and lying to her. Chloe only had two leads; that she had upset her somehow, or Trixie's friends were a bad influence. The thief was a likely suspect, in that scenario.

Laying down on the floor, Chloe inspected the underside of Trixie's bed. When she found nothing, she moved on to the closet, reaching up to the top shelf where an unfamiliar fabric caught her eye. It was a man's shirt. She meandered to the light switch, turned it off again, then sat on the foot of the bed held the shirt in her arms as she sat there, shaking her head and wondering what the hell happened. Had she failed?

A few moments later, she heard a bike roll up to the house, pause, then keep going. And Trixie came clambering in through the window. In a hurry, she walked alongside the moonlit wall, turned on her bedroom light, turned―and jumped at the sight of her mother. Still looking at the shirt, Chloe smiled as she meticulously folded it. Not saying a word―which was worse than being yelled at. Her mother was like the bomb she was always so afraid she'd find. Trixie moved slowly into the bedroom, putting down her purse and taking off her jacket, listening to the deafening silence that filled her room like water. In humiliation and fear, Trixie quietly drowned.

Finally she sighed, turning around. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

Chloe's response was so abrupt, she interrupted her daughter a bit. "You know, I've lost my shirt before, Trix. But never at my girlfriend's house."

Trixie frowned a little.

"You know what I mean. Now just what the hell..." Her words ended in a breath, and seeing her daughter's expression she got defensive. "Hey, I... I am an adult. I'm allowed to swear. You are a teenager. You are my teenager. So you...you do what I say, and not what I do."

"In my defense, I didn't sneak out of the house."

Chloe's face told her she was on thin ice. Emotionally, Chloe asked, "That's all you have to say for yourself? After I find some pretty damning evidence of teenage intercourse, you can't even assure me he was wearing a shirt when he left here?"

"He was! He doesn't know about this shirt, I'm... It's a gift."

"For what, your anniversary?"

"No!" Trixie said, and realized she had to change her tone, fast.

Before she could, Chloe was talking. "You know what, I don't want to hear your next lie. You're grounded until your next period. If you're pregnant, you're grounded until you're legal." Ignoring her daughter's protests, she continued talking as she tried to hold her head up high. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go find out when that is."

"Mom, I―"

"Don't want to hear it," Chloe interrupted. She turned away, and her daughter's unfinished homework caught her eye. She set the shirt down on the dresser, picking up the homework sitting beside it. There wasn't one answered equation in the assignment. She turned to look at her daughter, who was avoiding her eyes. "Isn't this due in twelve hours?"

No reply.

"This is due in twelve hours!" Chloe exclaimed.

"So then I'll fail, okay?"

Instead of arguing, Chloe scoffed and messily deposited the homework on the dresser. "Okay," she said. She turned and reluctantly headed for the door, turning back to grasp the knob. She emitted a soft sigh, staring at the daughter who once made her so proud. "Maybe then you'll understand how I feel right now."

Though she didn't slam the door, she could still hear the rustle of several papers landing on the floor. Chloe hesitated a moment, then flung the bedroom door back open. Saying nothing, she strode to where her daughter was standing, only to reach into her closet and take her purse off the hanger. Zipping it open, she stared at her daughter's underwear.

Face red, Trixie shuffled to the bed and sank down. Her voice was strangled. "I... I got pills."

"Yes, and you didn't take them."

Trixie scrambled off the bed, looking at the damning evidence. "Permission to swear?"

"Nope."

"Well, why not?" she asked softly. "Nothing I say can be as bad as what you deal with at work."

Their eyes locked.

"But, no means no," Trixie said hastily.

Chloe extended her purse, dropping her hands when they were free. Feeling the loss of her husband like it was fresh, she moved to the door and let herself out. Wandering into the living room, she sat down and got out her phone, tapping away. Legal age varied across countries, and where she lived, Trixie would be grounded for seven years if she was pregnant. Not that she had definitively made up her mind about the punishment...but it seemed to fit the crime. Oh, God. What if the guy was legal? What if he was a felon because of what he'd done to her daughter? Deeply depressed and scarred for life, Chloe plunked her phone down on the coffee table, then slouched forward, putting her arms on the table and putting her forehead on her arms, as she tried not to weep.

Eventually she felt strong enough to go in for her shower. Lifting her head, she noticed the figure sitting to her left, and her body locked up. She had to force herself to look to the side.

"'Sup, Decker?"

Chloe shook her head, overcome with hatred for this house. "You couldn't have been a vampire," she muttered, and vacated the living room, leaving Maze to try and decipher her words.

When Chloe came out of the shower, Maze was still there. She had helped herself to the fridge and the remote control. A subtle head tilt was the only indication that Chloe was not entirely unmoved by the unwanted presence of a demon. Again saying nothing, she walked to the couch, sat down, and watched TV with the soulless woman from hell.

What else could she do?

"'Sup, Maze?" Chloe finally reciprocated.

"These doctors just found their dead friend."

"Really?" she asked, with a downward inflection as she stared at the TV.

"Yeah. Guy tries giving CPR to a dude with a bullet in his brain. Hello?"

"Well, then why do you watch it?"

"'Cuz he's hot."

Chloe sat back and started paying attention to the TV show, trying not to weep. In front of the soulless woman. From hell. The strong, elegant, sophisticated―

Realizing Maze was offering her something, she tore her eyes off the screen.

"Party Animal?"

Chloe tried in vain not to smile as she took some.

"I assume he thinks I will work through this better if I don't have to keep flicking his wings off my shoulder," the blue-eyed baritone grumbled, and for a brief moment, the living room was made a little brighter as the demon and the human shared a laugh.

"I can so relate to that."