Will could barely suppress a flinch as Lucifer's hand clapped his shoulder. The Devil's touch should have scalded him. It should have made his skin erupt in boils. That all he felt through the fabric of his shirt was a deceptively human warmth was somehow infinitely worse.
Across from him, Clio's face was white with terror. The same hand that had ripped her back open with inhuman violence had now closed again around her arm, a warning and a threat. It would be nothing, probably, for the Devil to curl that hand into a fist, crumpling her arm as easy as a used receipt. Will tried to focus on that thought as he opened his suddenly dry mouth and made himself utter the traitor reply, "S'okay,"