“That’s a cynical assessment, my dear,” he started, giving the boy his due with the small perk of a brow, “and yet an accurate one. Nevertheless, isn’t that what makes the world quite so interesting? The people, Bastien. Without the people this is a jungle of soulless animals. Sure there’s less pollution, but…” he made a spiral gesture with a finger. Lucifer would not have batted an eyelash in Earth’s general direction if it weren’t for them, for the humans. Wouldn’t need to. Wouldn’t have a reason to. Corporeally, he reveled in the trees and the sunlight and the smell of lillies and the sensation of slightly-matted dog fur against his fingertips, sure, wondering how the fuck humans didn’t pay attention to their surroundings, sure, but truth be told he recognized the why, and the how, and the opposing sides of the argument. This is what differentiated him from the Old Man. “Let’s be honest with ourselves. We are not here to smell roses.”
“Yes, but they’re all so simple,” Bastien complained, turning the petals of a freshly plucked rose over in his hands, long and slender and soft as a consequence of his unending privilege. He was still young enough to revel in petulance; he still hadn’t absorbed Lucifer’s wisdom, though Emmy had warned him that he likely never really would --- his mind was not yet molded to such brilliance and knowledge, he was yet but a fresh bud. Much like the roses he loved to crush, smirking as the mangled petals tumbled from his grasp upon Lu’s word. “People are much less fascinating when you are one,” he pointed out, even if it was only a half-truth, “...--- for the most part.” He wasn’t sure if it was grandeur that always made him feel more than mortal or simply an unfulfilled prophecy, but even the golden boy - more specifically, the unwitting bastard child - who had everything delivered to him on a silver platter was growing restless from the ease. For as long as he had been breathing, he felt far more tethered to Lucifer than his own beloved Mother, the only person who’d refer to Emmy as ‘darling’, which was truly saying something. He hung on his every whim and word; Bastien only knew the universe through the glimpses that Lucifer had offered. “I can only travel so much before I can get sick of people in several different languages,” he always had something to whine about.
