Lucifer sat in Linda's office, sprawled across the couch with his usual air of nonchalant confidence, though it was a thin veneer today. His body language was restless, betraying the inner turmoil he rarely let show. His fingers drummed absently on the armrest, his legs crossed at the ankles, but his gaze was distant, fixed on the wall as if trying to see through it into another realm.
Linda, ever the professional, sat across from him in her chair, legs crossed neatly, her notepad resting on her lap. Her serene demeanor was unchanged, though her eyebrows were slightly raised in curiosity. She regarded Lucifer with a patient expression, her pen poised, waiting for him to speak. To her, this was another of Lucifer's colorful stories—metaphors layered with hyperbole and dramatic flair.
"Doctor," Lucifer began, his voice smooth as always, but with a distinct edge of unease that he couldn't quite mask. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together. His usual smirk was absent, replaced by a grim line that seemed unnatural on his otherwise devilishly handsome face. "You know how I like to keep family drama… well, buried. Preferably six feet under, with no forwarding address."
Linda tilted her head slightly, a small, encouraging smile forming. "Family dynamics can be… complicated," she said, her voice warm and professional. "But burying them doesn't usually solve anything. It sounds like something's come up?"
Lucifer chuckled dryly, though there was no humor in it. He shifted in his seat, his fingers briefly raking through his perfectly styled hair, leaving a few strands slightly out of place—a rare sign of disarray for him. "Oh, something's come up all right," he muttered, his eyes narrowing as if recalling a particularly unpleasant memory. "Two somethings, actually. Both of which should have stayed where I left them. Far, far away from here."
Linda nodded, jotting something down in her notebook. "And who are these… 'somethings'? Siblings? Parents?"
Lucifer leaned back, his arms stretching across the backrest of the couch. His usual bravado seemed to falter for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line before he spoke. "My darling brother Sariel and dear old Mumsy, of course," he said, his tone laced with bitterness. "One, I personally had chained in Hell for eternity—a punishment so severe even I thought it a bit much at the time. The other, well, she was sent to a personalized Hell loop. A little house of horrors tailored just for her." He paused, his jaw tightening as his gaze shifted to Linda. "And I didn't bother visiting either of them. Not once."
Linda's pen hovered mid-air, her expression calm but inquisitive. "Lucifer, when you talk about chains and personalized Hell loops, are you speaking metaphorically? Because—"
"Metaphorically?" Lucifer interrupted, his voice sharp as he gestured animatedly. "Do I look like I'm in a metaphorical mood, Doctor? No, I'm speaking quite literally. Though I understand this must sound like one of my usual flights of fancy." He exhaled sharply, sinking back into the couch, his hands now gripping the cushions on either side of him. "But believe me."
Linda studied him for a moment, her lips pressing into a thoughtful line. "You sound… troubled," she said carefully. "If we put aside the metaphors—or literal claims—for a moment, what's really bothering you about their return?"
Lucifer's eyes darkened, his usual mischievous glint replaced by a rare vulnerability. "Troubled doesn't even begin to cover it," he said quietly, his voice dropping. "Sariel… He was always the wild card, Linda. My father despised his children, well except the demons whose he put into good use. Claimed his so-called 'creations'—demons and monsters of myth and legend—were an affront to all of existence. And maybe they were. But they were also magnificent in their own twisted way. His only crime, really, was… ambition."
He paused, his lips twitching into something that wasn't quite a smile. "And yet, here he is, back on Earth, strutting around in his immaculate white suit, ready to stir the pot. And I can't tell if he's planning to burn the world to the ground or… something worse."
Linda's expression softened, her brows knitting together in concern. "And your… mother?" she asked gently, watching for his reaction.
Lucifer tensed at the mention, his jaw clenching briefly before he relaxed, though the tension lingered in his shoulders. "Mother," he repeated, almost spitting the word. "Let's just say she's not exactly the nurturing type. Manipulative, vindictive, and with a penchant for meddling in things that should be left alone. Whatever she's up to, it won't end well for anyone. Least of all me."
Linda leaned forward slightly, her voice calm but probing. "It sounds like you're carrying a lot of guilt, Lucifer. You mentioned not visiting them, not intervening. Do you feel responsible for their return?"
Lucifer let out a sharp laugh, though it lacked any real amusement. "Guilt? Oh, Doctor, you really are something," he said, shaking his head. "No, I don't feel guilty. I feel… annoyed. Frustrated. Maybe even a little apprehensive, if I'm honest." His expression darkened again, his fingers tightening around the armrest. "Because I know them. And I know they didn't just waltz back into existence for a family reunion. This is about power, revenge, and chaos."
Linda nodded thoughtfully, her pen gliding over her notepad. "And where does that leave you in all of this? What's your role in their… return?"
Lucifer hesitated, his sharp features softening briefly with an emotion Linda couldn't quite place. "That's the question, isn't it?" he murmured, almost to himself. "Am I the pawn, the player, or just the poor fool caught in the middle of a cosmic game I thought I'd left behind?"
He glanced at Linda, his usual smirk returning faintly, though it lacked its usual charm. "Tell me, Doctor, do you charge extra for solving existential crises?"
Linda smiled gently, her eyes meeting his with a steady warmth. "Not at all. But I do recommend we start unpacking this… one piece at a time."