Or, he could panic. That's a thing, too.

"Right now, there's not as much of a difference as you might think."

Lucifer dabs at his broken nose, grimacing at the blood and sting. What did humans even do about broken noses? Do you fix them, or do they just sort of heal on their own? He doesn't really know what you're supposed to do with injuries when you can't just will them to not be there, and he hadn't ever thought that he'd be in the position to find out.

"I am," he says, "an angel of The Lord. Fear not, glad tidings, et-cetera, et-cetera."

He idly waves one hand in a dismissive sort of gesture.

"I realize I probably don't look it at the moment."