Lucifer is still keeping Sam company, and he’s actually kinda helpful — even if Sam’s doing everything he can to ignore Lucifer.
Lucifer: It’s nice. Kind of like a men’s room with beds.
Lucifer: Hmm, avocado grime. Takes years to build up a patina like this.
Detective Sutton: Thought you guys might show up. It’s the drummer boys. Agents, uh, Bonham… and Watts, right?
Dean: Yeah, absolutely.
Sam: Uh, it’s a pleasure to see you again, Detective…
Sam: You know what? Pardon me. Uh, what was it, Detective…
Detective: Oh, no problemo — Detective Sutton.
Dean: Sutton, yeah. Hi.
Dean: Well, this is, uh…
Jeffrey: I know what it is.
Sam: Look, I know it must’ve been, um, hard.
Lucifer: Do you even listen to yourself?
Lucifer: Oh, don’t bother.
Lucifer: You’re right. We just don’t read anymore.
Lucifer: Marjorie Willis. Librarian, indoor gardening enthusiast, our demon’s next organ donor.
Lucifer: Come on, Sam, talk to me, it’s been months.
Lucifer: Average annual rainfall, Hackberry, Texas
Lucifer: Come on, Sam, pay attention to me, I’m bored!
Lucifer: Civil war buff?
Lucifer: I’m pretty sure this guy’s the boring sort of chubby chaser.
Dean: Leave your name, number and nightmare at the tone.
Sam: Dean, where are you? I’m scoping zero out here.
Lucifer: Not a good sign.
Lucifer: Hmm. Surprised you haven’t picked up on that yet. It’s right there in the coroner’s report.
Lucifer: Yeah. Uh-huh. In this latest round of killings, our big girls had traces of heavy tranquillisers in their blood. Yeah? But our demon’s strong enough to make fat Betty do whatever he wants to, right? So, why does he need the tranqs? Think he’s got a bad back? Yeah? Whatever is going on here, you know that demon’s not coming back to kill anybody.
Dean: This is Special Agent Smith. Please leave your name, number and a detailed.
Lucifer: Oh, no. That’s every cellphone Dean’s got. One of them should’ve picked up, right? Big brother’s probably dead.
Sam: Shut up.
Lucifer: He said ‘shut up’ to me.
Lucifer: That’s what I’m talking about, Sam — real interaction again, I miss that. The rapier wit, the wittier rape. Come on. I’ll be good! I’ll even help you solve your little… Nancy Drew mystery or whatever.
Lucifer: No note.
Lucifer: Hmm, a cellphone scrambler. But, Luci, those are illegal. Think, Sam. Maybe this has something to do with Dean’s telephone blackout.
Lucifer: Hmm. Latin. Not suspicious at all.
Sam: I’ve never seen this spell before.
Lucifer: No. But you’ve seen this type.
Sam: A demon summoning — why?
Lucifer: Why? To summon a demon, jackass. Start looking at who.
Sam: Okay, what do you mean?
Lucifer: Look at the page. You know this handwriting.
Sam: I know this handwriting.
Lucifer: ¡Ay, caramba!¡Mi cabeza!.
Sam: Nora, stop it! Calm down! What is this? What is this? Why did Jeffrey have a demon summoning in your handwriting?
Nora: Everything’s happening the way he said, the way he planned it.
Sam: What plan?!
Nora: You can’t help. You can’t change it.
Lucifer: Hit her.
Sam: Nora, tell me what is going on.
Lucifer: Sam, shake her up. She knows what happened to Dean. Get this stupid cow to focus, will you?
Sam: Nora, listen to me! Whatever it is, you should be a lot more scared of me right now because I’m two inches away from you, and I can make you talk. Do you understand me?
Nora: And then not long ago, he came to me. He seemed healthy, put together, except he wanted to know if there was a way to summon the demon back. He said he’d been doing some research. It was mostly nonsense, but he was convinced it was possible.
Lucifer: Hey, you really knocked the cork out of her pie-hole.
Sam: Yeah, well, new plan. Tracking spell. Bavarian, Egyptian. I don’t care — dealer’s choice. Use the flesh of the body to find the body, and Dean. Do you want the ear or the kid?
Lucifer: You’re giving me the chills.
Lucifer: No, no, Sam. No nap for you, Sammy. Oh, c’mon, don’t do that. Let’s talk, Sam. I always enjoyed our special little chats. Don’t you want to talk?
Lucifer: Yeah, look at that. Something’s definitely different now, isn’t it? You let me in. You wanted me, partner. So you think you can use your little tricks to banish me again… like that? No. I do believe I’ve got you, bunk buddy. Got my finger wiggling around in your brainpan.
Lucifer: Come on, Sammy! Come on! Say it with me now. Good morning, Vietnam!