Famine sank into one of the chairs, fingers drumming on her knees. "He's just pissed someone fucked with his son that wasn't him," she muttered, resting her chin on her hand.
She snorted at 'angel minions', but otherwise let them talk. She was still replaying her conversation with Lucifer in her head. And a tiny part of her couldn't help but wonder if he'd try something against her, too. She could take it, and even if she died, she'd hardly be gone long at all. But it still wasn't something she really wanted to think about.