Lucifer flashes a grin in response; breaking rules and breaking and entering and just breaking is his jam. Sorry/not sorry, bro.

But the 'your prison, not mine' sticks weirdly to Lucifer's mind. He doesn't know what to do with the words, but he'll hold onto them until he knows. Days, months, years down the road.

"Boring," he chimes, petulant, and hops down from his perch with a loud thump. "Come on, we have a power here that he--that he robbed from us, Michael!" He spreads his arms. "Creation. A-And this is how you use it?"