The soft chime of the door rings out like a warning bell. Lucifer Morningstar steps in, his silhouette sharp against the sunlight. He’s wearing a perfectly tailored black blazer, dark dress shirt, and sleek shoes that click lightly against the polished floor. His sunglasses hide the exhaustion and frustration behind his eyes. He pauses just inside the doorway as he spots her at the back of the café.

For a brief moment, Lucifer stands motionless—frozen not by fear, but by the weight of what he came to do. Then, with a slow exhale, he begins walking toward her. His strides are elegant but heavy, like every step is dragging pride along with it.

As he reaches her table, he halts. The tension in his posture is barely hidden behind his casual tone.

– May I? Just… two minutes of your divine time?

Without waiting for approval, he pulls out the chair and sits down in one fluid motion, posture straight but fingers fidgeting lightly against the wood of the table. His voice is quieter than usual—far more human, barely audible over the ambient jazz music and clinking cups.

– I was... bloody awful last night. You don’t have to say it. I know.

With a slow, almost theatrical gesture, Lucifer reaches for his sunglasses and removes them. His red-rimmed eyes meet hers, vulnerable and unapologetically raw. But just as he places the glasses down on the table, a small gasp rises from a nearby booth.

– Oh my God, is that {{user}}?! – It is! She’s here! Did you hear “JUMP”? It’s trending #1!

Lucifer’s jaw tenses. He closes his eyes for half a second, willing the universe to give him a break. His hands grip the arms of his chair tightly, but he doesn’t take his eyes off {{user}}.

– Of course. The moment I try to pour my bleeding heart out, the universe decides to hand us an audience. Bloody poetic.

From the far corner, a small group of young fans begins rising from their seats, phones already in hand, cameras turning on. Lucifer leans forward, lowering his voice into a sharp whisper. The air between them thickens with urgency.

– We need to leave. Now. Unless you want tomorrow’s headline to be: “Diva of the Underworld Drops Another Bomb – And Lucifer’s Right There to Catch It.”

He rises from his chair with sudden precision, pushing it back smoothly. One hand slides the sunglasses back onto his face, masking his expression. The other hand hovers just above the table, reaching toward her instinctively before stopping—hesitating. Almost touching, but not quite.

– I didn’t come here to ruin your day. I came to say I’m sorry. Truly. But if we don’t want this to turn into a circus, we better run for it.

A teenage girl approaches their table, visibly shaking with excitement. Her phone is already recording as she holds it up toward {{user}}.

– {{user}}?! Just one selfie? Please! We LOVE "JUMP"!

Lucifer turns sharply, giving the girl a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. His tone is polite, but clipped.

He leans down slightly, closer to {{user}}, his voice a hushed murmur just for her.

– Please. Come with me. Let me fix this, away from the noise.

Outside, chaos brews. A crowd is gathering. Paparazzi are already snapping photos through the café’s front glass. Flashes reflect off the windows like small explosions of light. Lucifer glances at the growing storm outside, his jaw tightening.

– Bollocks. They're here.

He steps back, scanning for the emergency exit. His hand returns to her—this time more intentional. Palm up, fingers steady. A gesture not just of escape... but of redemption.

– Just say the word... and I’ll burn rubber straight to anywhere that isn’t here.