"I know," Lucifer says, disdain thick in his voice. His lip curls. "In the grand scheme of our timelines, they're both earlier than I am," he doesn't know that that's changed, "they thought I was still in the Cage."

He picks up the sugar shaker and smacks the bottom of it against his palm. He hasn't dropped it, you're welcome, Michael. It's clear he's fidgeting. He'd be better with a blade in hand, but they're not fighting, not yet, and Lucifer isn't likely to make the first strike.

For as wild as he's become since they last saw one another, Lucifer didn't want to fight that first time in the cemetery, and it still rings true in the present moment.

But that's subject to change.

Whether or not that means he's ignoring their time in the Cage together, well. That's a separate problem.

"Oh, and Dean Winchester evidently has wings now," he says flatly.