He steps around Natasha and crouches down besides her chair, hands loosely dangled between his knees as he looks up at the man. "You know, I believe you," he says mildly. "I do. It's just..." He sighs, a wisp of breath and he looks away. He holds up a hand and squeezes just slightly and the man lurches forward, his organs constricting, before Lucifer lets him breathe again. "It's just I think you know more."

"I don't. I really don't."

"Mmmm. I don't know." Natasha by proximity can feel the insistent buzz of power, static to the skin. Lucifer sounds bored as he continues, "There must be something you want to tell us?"

The second twist is held for longer. The man, desperate in his jolting, tries to catch Natasha's eyes, tries to beg her for this to stop, but there's blood at his lips and he can't fumble the words.

Lucifer tsks. Stands, and walks around to Natasha's other side, hands on his hips, finger tapping.

"I don't--" the man repeats, looking to Natasha, trying to swallow down gulps of air.

"She can't help you," Lucifer interrupts. It's partially a lie. Some corner of his mind Lucifer knows Natasha might be able to stop him, within reason. With the right reason.

His eyes are more prominently red than they've been, and he's standing suddenly directly in the man's space, fingers pressing into his side like claws, breaking through skin and muscle. Lucifer doesn't need a knife, has never needed more than just brute force, and with how recently he's talked to Istredd it's easy to channel more through himself to maintain his strength.

"I think you're hiding something: tell me about your clients."

"I--can't."

"Oh?" Lucifer looks to Natasha, grinning. "Did you hear that? He can't."