[ The Morning Star doesn't respond to either of his minders, not for a long moment, simply standing still on the museum steps. (It's been a long time since he's gotten his hands dirty. But the fact remains: he is the Devil, a son of God, and he holds the mantle for a multitude of reasons — among them, none of them make mention of a gentle spirit. If it's carnage that's coming up, then carnage it will be.) ]

Stay behind me, [ is what he says, his eyes fixed upon the doors to the museum. ] Francis, start talking as soon as we get in. Esther, cover Francis and yourself. If you get the chance to use your gift, do, but not at the expense of your own safety. And if either of you feel you're outmatched — then run.

[ And those are the last words Lu offers up before he moves, his stride long and quick, breezing through the doors and into the awaiting arms of the Grigori. He may not carry a pitchfork, but there's enough havoc that he can wreak with his bare hands alone. ]