Beach house party!
Lucifer stared at his reflection in the mirror, wondering when the hell he'd started caring about what he wore to parties. The faded band t-shirt and ripped jeans that had been his go-to for months suddenly felt... inadequate. He ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair, succeeded only in making it worse, and sighed.
"You look fine," Ezra's voice came from behind him, tinged with equal parts amusement and impatience. "Stop fussing."
He turned to face her, ready with a snarky retort, but the words died in his throat. Ezra stood in the doorway, a vision in black leather and silver studs. Her usual practical attire had been replaced by a corset top that hugged every curve, paired with skin-tight jeans that disappeared into combat boots. A spiked choker adorned her neck, and her eyes were rimmed with smoky shadow that made them look even more intense than usual.
"Wow," Lucifer managed, eloquent as ever. "You look..."