The room reminds Lucifer of the roadside motels that the Winchester brothers used to sleep at and would serve as the backdrop for Sam's dreams. He wonders where Sam is right now, if he's still sleeping in places like this with the lumpy mattresses and scratchy sheets; he wonders if he could find him again. Sam would not be likely to say yes to him again, but perhaps he could be reasoned with, now that there isn't a looming threat of the Apocalypse. He and Castiel had been allies, friends, once-- perhaps the promise of avenging him will be enough.

Lucifer walks in a little further, ducks his head into the attached bathroom; there is mold growing in the bathtub and in cracks in the tile, probably because the ventilation fan is broken. The sink leaks and the construction of the pipes ensures that there is never quite enough water pressure. He puts his hand against the wall as though looking for the light switch, pulls on his spark-small Grace, and fixes it while the room is still dark. He makes it clean and functional and tells himself that it's because he doesn't want to put his vessel someplace where it might get Legionnaire's disease.

The stress of using his already rundown Grace is exhausting, even for something as small as this; he sways slightly on the spot, catching himself on the doorframe with his shoulder.