He swept the hand at the shoulder up along the neck as there was a soft golden glow. His fingers traced the marks, stained the black of the curse over his skin, and gathered that blood as he eased them closed again.

Lucifer wasn't the best at keeping himself still as he felt a touch to his side, wondering if he'd be 'attacked' again, yet feeling his own goosebumps rise from a softer, meticulous touch. He always helplessly, maybe foolishly stilled with a touch his way. Even with their current situation, his delicate condition, he still bore that fear that one day it'd simply stop and he'd go back to where he was before. Not out of anything of Alastor's doing, or of anyone else's in his life, but... him.

He kissed him once more, brief but no less sincere.

Paused.

His eyes fluttered open, and he looked down into the water.

"Ooh, I... I made the water too, ah..." He was fine. He could bathe in liquid magma if he wished. But, er... oh boy.