He wasn't used to her reassurances that it wasn't his fault. Not specifically from Chloe but from anyone. Lucifer was the bloody Devil, the King of Hell, the one humans blamed for their sinning and their mistakes. Claimed he made them do these things as if he personally took their hand and led them to vices and choices that led to their downfall. Centuries, eons of it falling on his shoulders before some were delivered into his custody as their warden while they devised their own torture from guilt and demons fell into their roles. Then it began and continued over and over and over.
At a loss for words, he withdrew briefly only to rest his forehead against her shoulder and draw in a shaky breath. He hadn't expected the flood of emotion or the subject itself to come up so quickly but despite the painful nature it was better to get past the large pachyderm in the room. "I'm sorry," he whispered, hand gently resting against the back of her neck, "I'm so bloody sorry and I missed you so much, Chloe."
The instinct remained to argue against her logic. Amenadiel would find a way to Linda and they would have Charlie if the patterns of the universe wanted it badly enough. She may have believed his presence was beneficial but what of those that lost their lives or met terrible ends because of it as well? He swallowed it back then, focusing on the very real presence in his arms, held against him. Chloe. His Detective.