Lucifer is unimpressed by the proclamation. Yes, yes, she's a big scary thing that would lay waste to the Earth, join the club. They could get t-shirts.

On his shoulder, Rahab hisses at the Yastigilian hound, as though offended at its rudeness. Of course it is a dragon; hasn't this thing ever seen a dragon before? And even if it hasn't, manners, please. It's rude to stare, and it's certainly rude to do the verbal equivalent of pointing.

"I am the Morningstar," Lucifer replies, like this isn't at all a strange situation. Not that he doesn't have to explain to literally everyone he meets around here that yes, he is Satan. "I am an archangel of the Lord. You may call me Lucifer."

He gestures to her, palm up, like someone would when they're expecting to be handed something. "It's only polite to give me yours."