"Get in losers we're going shopping!" Lucifer shouts to the latter, shoving glasses on his face—the engine of his limo revs. The King of Hell is your dad; this is his weekly gift of not being in your life most of the time. He's parked outside your hotel, beeping the horn. It's only a matter of time before he starts throwing his rubber ducks at the windows. "How's my favourite royal?" Lucifer grins, arms open, waiting for you to join him in his limo. It's father-child bonding time now—scheduled.