[ James joins him under the water, his drenched hair sticking to his forehead and falling into his eyes. Makes him look younger, somehow. Lucifer looks down at him after a moment, gaze a bit squinty due to the water dripping down his lashes. He's got a somewhat angular face, James, very pleasing, harmonic facial features, beautiful eyes. Very, very, enticing lips.

He's been a different person, once, wearing that same face, chasing his theology studies and all the thoughts associated with it, fairy tales and lies and truth, sure, buried so deep as to be imperceptible. In LA, people don't have to shapeshift to transform, they only have to be here and let themselves get carried away by the currents. He's well aware. Of course, he had to do some shaping but he's not one of them, obviously, and he never truly will be. Rules are different with angels.

Hard to say what shapes them, really, when the source of it all insists upon being so ridiculously illusive and silent.

Quirking one eyebrow, he spreads his legs a little, sort of tilting his hips forward slightly, his cock half-hard again. ]

Showing off, you say.

[ He licks his lips, tasting water and soap now, only the barest traces of Scotch and very little of James. Shame, that. Good thing he's up for a re-fill soon enough. ]

It's not about that, James. It's just that humans can't help but look. [ He curves one hand against the back of James' neck, dragging his wet fingertips through his hair, playing idly with the strands. ] And I happen to like that about you.

[ Said with a slow smile, easy and a little less sharp than earlier, a little more friendly. ]