"Nothing but the whim of this place dictates you have to go back," he says. "While we don't appear to have any control staying here," a sore subject, "if I have my way, I will."

Istredd, too.

All these thoughts of building a life when Lucifer's only existed surface level in sputtered jolts and most of that time he'd been planning destruction or dreamed of conquering or power or straight up redesigning the cosmos. The concept of establishing a life and living is just...

Outrageous.

Out of his depth.

He shrugs. Picks at a divet in the table with a fingernail.

Thorne's maybe not a good place to be but if there was some changes maybe it could be.