Exactly the sort of thinking Octavia had been hoping to nip in the bud.

(Or... maybe some other metaphor that was less relevant to other things she'd been facing lately.)

Before Lucifer really had a chance to reply, Octavia's voice could be heard faintly from downstairs. She'd thought she'd heard something, and now the water was off, and she was leaning out the kitchen doorway. "Lucifer?"