Lucifer was done. Done with everything. He felt betrayed beyond repair and the Detective didn't listen to him. He just wanted her to believe him, but she never does. What was the point anyway? In this situation he only saw one way to end the pain.

"How was he as a kid?" A question so innocent, so curious. "Have you even been children at some point?" Amenadiel gulped. He knew Lucifer would never talk about that time. Not even to Chloe. But could he? He remembered those times. It had been so much easier back then. "Yes, yes Chloe, we were children once. And he was always special."

And later the revelations with Pierce? Cain? Whoever, Lucifer didn't care. Not when she wouldn't even read his texts. He tried to call her one more time. And again she ignored him. Lucifer tried to ease his mind with a few songs on his beloved piano, but as soon as he sat down, he was flooded with memories of how they both had spent hours next to each other, talking, laughing and

"Looks like those sick bastards sewed the prosthetics onto his back." Sick indeed. Chloe wanted to vomit at that thought, the bile already rising in her throat. "Give me a few more minutes, I'll free the wings too. I can't cut them loose in this position." And with that the young forensic expert was back at work.

Okay, since they first announced the Sinnerman, I've seen all kind of speculations but one. What if the Sinnerman is just a plain, boring human? A crime boss? And what if he pisses off our favorite Devil? What if Lucifer's red eyes and Mr. Crispy are still there and he just needs a little extra rage to appear? Of course he is there. I love Mr. Crispy.

Lucifer did all sorts of different things while he was driving. Strange little behaviours she noticed bit by bit.

After waking up in the middle of nowhere, burned, exhausted and with those stupid, useless, feathered appendages on his back, he had no idea why they were back or who knocked him out. But that wasn't important right now. He wanted to go home. The long forgotten and atrophied muscles screamed when he tried to move the wings more than just to open them or lay them against his back, a