Mortals. They had a tendency to miss the significance of moments, choosing to latch onto trivialities - like clothing - instead. Most of them walked through their lives with their eyes wide open without seeing. The ones who did, more often than not went mad or died in solitude. But hey, they were rewarded with being admitted through the pearly gates in the end or were they?
Constance here could go one way or the other but Lucifer doubted she'd be able to appreciate going upstairs and spending eternity in the company of his perfect, obedient, unsympathetic and dispassionate brethren.
He smiled then, the Morningstar, over the maid's head when she finally managed to string a few words together semi-coherently. Not the words that were on her mind but they sufficed for now.
"Go on," Lucifer told the mortal, his voice soft with just a hint of amusement hidden underneath, "if you can bear to look away that is."
The woman fled the room.
"Making pretty eyes at the house servants, brother?"