Lucifer tilts his head, robotic, alien. His movements absolutely still. Familiar to some degree. This has pulled through on occasion in the past, when Lucifer was the most sunk into archangel, the muscle-memory a cloak. His eyes are watching Istredd's every moment, backed by an unnatural light, unblinking.

"I'm not telling you this to dissuade you, I'm telling you for your own awareness." The layer of solid frost over Lucifer has already begun to climb through his being--finally it no longer chills him to the bone, finally he's comfortable back in that ice--the same frost that will follow them for the next eight-hundred years, but with it comes a certainty, solid and methodical thinking to Lucifer's usual snappish-quick chaos. Careful, calm.

There's a balance that's he's been lacking their entire time in Abraxas. Dust settled, Lucifer easing back into himself.

He'll have to eventually deal with the very emotions Istredd is claiming are his problem, his emotions for various people once they creep back in as a reminder that they're still present, he hasn't lost them, they're just a step back. But accessible.

Just something other.

"Do what you want," he tells Istredd. "If you freeze alongside me, so be it. Maybe it'll do you some good."