"I don't know, that sounds like a silver lining," he says flatly. Practicing on Lucifer, oh no, oops, his hand slipped, now Lucifer's a turtle. That sure would be a tragedy, so sad.

But no. Seriously. He hates that he understands, and he hates that Lucifer is right. The sigh he lets loose is bone-deep fatigue, utter resignation.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but fine. If you think you can help, I'll do it." A beat. "But I have conditions."