Duke's face was pressed to his face. Octavia was looking at him.

Lucifer lingered in the entranceway, unseen, his expression filling with a bottomless exhaustion, then pain, then a sense of soul-deep worthlessness, before finally smoothing over into something even.

Something he'd been perfecting for much longer than they'd been alive.

He walked to them. Squatted.

"You should get some rest," he said.