Lucifer does make a face at the thought, and it's not a Hmmm Intriguing thought but an agreed Nah That'd Be Gross. Not that Istredd can see him, but the feeling is conveyed enough with the expression.

"More like we need a poncho," Lucifer says. "'Greater fabric protection' doesn't help when I get soaked in blood, it'll just be a waste of material and efforts. I'd still have to burn the outfit." Burning is preferable, to him, anyway. Thorne must have cleaning spells (he hasn't paid attention to the freely available clothing), but there's basic volumes of mess and there's the travesty that Lucifer currently is, thick and grimy and weighed down by it all.

Nice in the moment--freshness, as he had said--noooot so nice later on.

"Additional protection only matters if you've got something that doesn't absorb the fluids."

He tucks away glands in another separate pouch, same method as before. Istredd might catch the blue glow at the corner of his vision, there and gone again.

"Two more and then we can go," he says, almost soothingly.