Lucifer was the King of Hell. He was powerful. Someone to be feared.

And also in recovery after being drained of his power.

Lucifer was in a fetal position, it was that bad. Curled around a pillow as his injuries still sent aching tremors. Charlie and her friends would come up to check on him from time to time. It wasn’t.. the best, but he could live!

..He’s lived through worse.

He doesn’t look up when he can hear the door open, nor when the scent of tea hits his senses. He just curls deeper into the pillow mess at the head of his bed, the fluffy pink sweater adorning him almost acting like a secondary blanket.

He just wanted to sink into the sheets and never resurface. Hell did fine without him. He had just.. messed everything up. Both by being impulsive and naïve.

It’s not helping his totally-not-depression problem, that’s for sure! Absolutely not! In fact, it’s probably making everything worse.

He knows someone’s in the room to check on him, but unfortunately Lucifer is too busy drowning in his own thoughts to realize who it is.