"I-- err, yes, of course--" the crane stammered, still flabbergasted - let alone when Alastor practically hip-checks him aside and away from Lucifer.

"I've plucked out a drink for you, my deer," Alastor crooned affectionately, passing a glass with a lovely little fizzy fruit mix - once Alastor had made sure there was no alcohol, he plucked it for his darling. Lucifer was working up a sweat, after all.

His husband. His perfect partner.