Re: [The piano bar: Misha & Lucifer.]
Perhaps someday Lucifer and Misha would talk through what happened to Numiel, but of all the angels that had fallen, Lucifer didn't know of any that had become human upon their fall. More than that, the last time he'd seen her, she'd still had her divinity wrapped around her, still had wings the softness of new snow. He could remember the feel of them, against skin and against his own feathers (though that was hardly a thought to be having while sitting across the table from Misha). The child's conception and birth and childhood, none of it made sense to him yet. And unlike Misha, Lucifer didn't quite believe that God didn't know everything that was going to happen. He figured that his Father stood by letting humans have free will, and that led to things that weren't especially good, but that didn't mean that He didn't know every last thing that was going to happen. Especially with His angels, where free will wasn't a complication to be dealt with.
Being honest was a twisted sort of thing for Lucifer. It was easy for him to tell lies, as they came from him like breathing. But more often, the truth bit deeper and held more power than any falsehood. He could flatter and cut with the same tone and the same level of truth, each in the same breath. But he nodded to Misha's question. "I can. If there's something I don't want to answer, I can just say so." A twist of his mouth didn't quite make it into a smirk. "It's not as if the truth burns me. People make a big deal about lies when it comes to me, but I tell the truth all the time."
"I've had a long time to think about it." This particular honesty was difficult, and he hadn't spoken about this in particular with anyone. Depending on how things went with Claire, she'd likely hear this part of his story as well, but for the moment, Misha was the sole recipient. Honesty from father to son, and wasn't that just a mindfuck for Lucifer. "I don't think I could have done it differently. He doesn't work that way for some of us. No matter what's been said since, I think I was always meant to fall, no matter what I did. I think that's what I was created for." His eyes were distant, fixed on a point farther than just across the bar, and his long fingers draped over the lip of his glass, twisting it delicately back and forth.