Lucifer raises an eyebrow, staring bemused at the woman before them as Maze scoffs at his side.

"I'd like to see you try," she says in challenge, with a smile that's almost poisonous, though she doesn't pull out any of the many weapons he knows she has hidden on her, which Lucifer takes to mean the demon isn't as unimpressed by the threat as she seems.

He understands. Threatening the Devil and his right-hand demon— however uselessly, that takes guts.

Lucifer likes it.

"Well, for one, it would be rather pointless, given that bullets don't work on me," he answers easily, though really it should've already been obvious. Maybe Beatrice didn't get her intelligence from her mother? But that seems unlikely… Oh, well. "But whatever gets you going, darling, I don't judge. I've seen and done just about everything, what's a bit of roleplaying to get things started? Tame, really."

"Are you serious—?!"

Lucifer elects to ignore that question and continue, giving her a winning smile. "Secondly, I imagine it would upset Beatrice quite a bit."

That doesn't seem to be the right thing to say, somehow.

The woman's frown deepens. "Do not try to use my daughter against me."

Now it's Lucifer's time to frown, raising both palms up— he hadn't meant to. He was only being truthful.

"Look, I don't know who you think you are, mister," she continues to Lucifer's bafflement, sounding rather furious, though maybe he should've already expected that like her daughter she wouldn't be one to react like everyone else. "But I'm not happy about you two going behind my back and spending time with Trixie unsupervised. Now I don't blame her for believing in all your fairytale nonsense— she should know better, but she's still just a kid. I get it. I know she's been lonely and having trouble at school."

Fairytale nonsense? Lucifer and Maze trade a confused look.

He thought Beatrice told her mother about them?

"But you're both adults! There's no excuse for you, you should know already that this is beyond inappropriate." She glares at them, her eyes turning icy. "I have no idea what you were planning with my daughter—"

Now wait a second!

"I think there's been a misunderstanding—"

"— but you better start talking, starting with your names and your intentions here. And don't test my patience, or I'm taking this to the police station and you'll have to answer me there instead. So, start. Talking."

Lucifer blinks at her. "We already told you our names," he points out, confused.

"Your real names, please."

Maze shoves her human identifications at her, rolling her eyes. "Mazikeen," she says, pointing at herself, before turning to him who quickly catches up and hands the woman his own documents as well. "Lucifer. Like we said."

It doesn't seem to really convince Beatrice's mum, who frowns at the IDs in her hands and studies them carefully— and they're very good fakes, if Lucifer may say so himself, having paid a pretty penny for them— but she doesn't say anything else about it either. Instead she takes a picture of each of them with her phone before handing them back accordingly.

She nods at them to keep going.

"Your daughter was the one to call us here," Lucifer tells her, though really, technically Beatrice had only called for him. Maze had been an improvisation on his part. "She wanted a friend— apparently enough to make a deal with the Devil for it."

That gets him a raised eyebrow. "And I'm supposed to just believe that?"

"It's the truth, you can ask the little urchin yourself."

The woman seems to consider it, before shrugging. "Alright, sure. And how did she call you?" she asks. She doesn't seem to believe it as much as she seems to be indulging him. "What, does the Devil hand out pamphlets now? Did she see your number in an ad?"

Lucifer sputters a little at the indignity of said mental image.

"She prayed," Mazikeen answers for him, saving him the trouble. "Duh."

Mama Beatrice gaped at them, before schooling her face. "Riiight. Duh.That makes sense." She shrugs. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Lucifer nods at her, smiling, though he has a feeling this meeting isn't going as well as planned. Maybe it shouldn't be so surprising, really; he can't imagine many parents would be happy to learn their children were in league with Satan himself… But he'd gotten so used to Beatrice's easy acceptance that it was easy to forget most humans weren't like her. If any would be, though, shouldn't it be her mother?

"Alright, I'm taking you both to the station."

He expertly dodged the hands coming to grab his wrists, holding up a hand to stop Mazikeen from attacking the woman in his defense.

"Now, hold on!" Lucifer is quick to say. "We've committed no crime in the eyes of your feeble human laws."

"That's debatable," she argues unreasonably, before seeming to come to her senses that arresting them as of now is a futile effort and huffing, closing her arms in front of her chest as she glares at them as if they're at fault. "Though it better be true, because if I find out you touched a single hair in my daughter's head—"

"Excuse me?"

Maze frowns, offended. "Trixie couldn't possibly be more safe than with us. No one would dare harm her while she's under our protection."

Lucifer doesn't correct Mazikeen's assumptions, because just the thought of what the woman was implying makes him balk. The thought of him doing such a thing— of him being capable of even thinking something so vile as that… Somehow, that was worse than anything else humanity ever accused him of. He always took pleasure in punishing those repugnant souls that appeared in Hell, as did all of his demons.

To mistake him for one of them was unthinkable.

"The Devil is no pervert!" Lucifer protests indignantly, his words barely more than a growl as he finds himself unable to hide the anger in his voice at such accusation. "Why, I'd never! You dare to accuse me of—!"

He forcibly calms himself as he remembers that Beatrice is only a room away, not wanting to scare her or remind her of bad things.

Lucifer takes a deep breath, staring down at the woman in front of him. "I'd never take advantage of Beatrice, or any child for that matter, like that."

The Detective— because he can no longer think of her as anything else, not anymore— doesn't hesitate, not looking away from his glare even in the face of his rage. He can feel as she tries to discern his sincerity, searching his face for any clues or unspoken answers, and a weight seems to leave her shoulders as she deems him honest.

She nods, relief clear in her face. "Alright."

And just like that, all the fire leaves him. Lucifer can't judge her for being worried for her child, when he himself had first assumed such when he first heard Beatrice's prayer. He understands the fear all too well, knowing the worst of humanity.

Of course a detective would as well.

"Yes, well." He fixes his cufflinks, trying to maintain his pose. "I'll have you know, I punish evil. I don't partake in it."

"Right… Because you're the Devil."

"Duh."

Lucifer grins. "Exactly!"

Finally, she seems to understand it.

The Detective rolls her eyes. "You know, this whole… act doesn't work on me, right? I don't even believe in— you know what, nevermind. It doesn't matter. I don't even know why I'm trying to argue with you when you're both clearly crazy."

Or not.

It's Lucifer's turn to roll his eyes, now. Honestly, he'll never understand humans and their tendency to cling to denial over simple universal truths, something that Maze clearly agrees with given the groan she lets out.

"Ugh, I forgot how annoying atheists can be," says Maze, more to herself than not, though she doesn't bother lowering her voice.

Lucifer couldn't agree more.

"Very well, then," he decides. "If it's proof you require."

Taking a step closer to the Detective he draws her attention back to him, being careful not to loom as he's learned humans can find intimidating. The last thing he wants is for her to think he's a threat to her and hers. With care not to pull any real fire behind it, he flashes his eyes.

He tries to not take any offense as she flinches, backing away.

(It shouldn't sting, Lucifer tells himself. Not after so long with such a reaction being the norm. Yet it does. It does.)

(Maybe he's gotten a little too spoiled by Beatrice.)

Maze punches him in the shoulder. "Nice going, genius! You broke the human."

"What! She's a detective, this would never go anywhere if we didn't give her any evidence," Lucifer defended himself, making a face as he massaged the wounded area. It hurts! "It was obvious."

The Detective looks at the two of them with wide eyes, seemingly unable to pick what to stare at.

She turns to Maze. "You…!"

"Yup. I'm a Demon," Mazikeen answers in an overly casual tone, sounding almost bored. Lucifer huffs. "You know, forged in the bowels of Hell to torture the guilty for all of eternity, yadda yadda." She gives her a shark smile, wiggling her eyebrows. "Boo."

Who's being callous now?

The other woman sucks in a breath, her hands going straight to the holster at her hips as she shakes— for all that she tries to hide that little fact from them and remain stoic. Lucifer frowns. Perhaps she's more shaken by it than he'd first believed.

"Mazikeen," he reprehends, but Maze waves him off impatiently.

"No. No, this is stupid. We've been hanging with the kid for how long now?" she snaps. "And nothing happened! That little human, she— she's…" Maze fumbles, looking the most vulnerable Lucifer has seen her since… well, since ever. She seems to struggle to find the words to describe how much Beatrice means to her— to both of them— and somehow, Lucifer understands exactly what she means still.

Beatrice truly is an extraordinary child, sticky fingers and all.

"She's my friend," she ends up saying, lamely.

They share a smile, tired and incredulous, at the fact this one small, wonderful child has them both wrapped around her little finger.

The sound of laughter startles them out of it. Lucifer blinks, turning back ready to glare at the human who dared to laugh at their moment of sentimentality only to notice that she seems to be having trouble holding herself together— her laughter a bit too hysterical to be mean-spirited. He sighs, holding Maze's arm to stop her from lashing out. It wouldn't do to hold this against the Detective.

Humanity rarely handles well with being exposed to the divine.

They have no choice but to wait as she calms herself down, not wanting to make it worse by crowding her nor being comfortable with the idea of offering comfort, for all that they've been clumsily learning how to do with Beatrice. It's different, however.

"Oh God— shit, does that mean God's real? Dammit." The Detective massages her temples, likely staving off a migraine, but quickly pulls it together. She looks them in the eyes even as she reeks of fear. "Look, I— it doesn't matter. Okay? I can't risk it. This doesn't change anything, it only complicates things even more. Maybe you're telling the truth, and the Devil has a bad rep and is a softie inside, and you're both friends with my daughter. Even if I believed that, even if I wanted to believe that— I still can't risk it, you understand?"

She takes a deep breath, and Lucifer can almost see the fight leaving her.

"Trixie is the most important thing in the world for me," she says, and her voice is shaken but honest. "She's my baby."

Oh. Lucifer stares at her, at this show of pure and unaltered parental love, and nods.

He's offended, he's hurt, but he gets it.

Lucifer holds her eye contact, impressed that even after everything she still doesn't drop it. "Tell me, Detective… What is it that you desire?" he asks, unsure if it's one last plea or just something he needs to know.

The woman seems to feel no pull towards him, her eyes remaining clear, but still she answers with a soft, "I just need Trixie to be safe."

He nods, somber.

"I understand."

And with one bat of his wings, the Devil and his right-hand demon both disappear.