Thankfully, he did the spooky shadow thing. This granted Lucifer a moment to curl his claws into half-balled fists before him and snarl: "Was that REALLY the time to start a seasonal molt? A late one, at that!? In my moment of triumph!!"

He had a fit of frustrated temper by ruffling his own hair, his hat hitting the floor. After his little five-second fit, he huffed, fixed his hair, slapped his crown back on...

...Okay, one more breath...

He snapped his fingers and cooked up a portal. Cool. Calm. Collected. In his lane.

A casual step on through to go meet him at the bar, that's the ticket.