All language subtitles for Lucifer.S03E02.1080p.BluRay.AV1-PTNX

- Previously on Lucifer...
- We need to figure out who kidnapped me.

I'm fairly certain that
my Father's behind it.

Lucifer,
I'm not angry with you,

that you somehow
got your wings back,

or even that
you cut them off again.

I was tested once,
and I failed.

I'm not gonna fail again.

I suppose this won't bother you.

But you cut them off.

The pesky things seem to be

a bit more tenacious
this time around.

I'm Lieutenant Marcus Pierce.

Heard a lot about
you, Lieutenant,

and I'm really excited
to work with you.

Aren't you that corrupt
cop that got off easy?

Excuse me?

People come to me
to ask for favors,

and more often than not,
I'm happy to oblige.

What do you get?

Simply to be repaid
at a later date.

A devilish IOU, if you will.

Who's the Sinnerman?

That's who hired me
to kidnap you.

He's a scary dude.
Huge crime boss.

And where do I find him?

You don't. He finds you.

This way.

Ah...

You're an angel.

Oh, gosh.

Uh, my apologies.

And for the record,
I don't usually suffer

from premature unfurling.

Right.
Now, where were we?

No, keep them out.

I'm totally into cosplay.

I could dress up as a devil
and make it really sexy.

I have no desire
to have sex with myself.

Not right now, at least.

Where are you going?

To do some grooming.

I'd recommend you leave. Now.

I'm about to engage
in a rather gruesome form

of manscaping.

You cut them off, didn't you?

I did, yes.

But then they grew back,
so I cut them off again.

It's like whack-a-mole
back there.

I'm worried about you.

What you're describing
is self-mutilation.

Doctor, someone is
forcing those wings on me.

They took away my devil face.

And I won't stand for someone
making me something I'm not.

Are you any closer to
finding out who did this?

Yes. Well, a little.

He calls himself
"The Sinnerman."

From what I can gather,

he's a criminal mastermind
who just moved his operation

to Los Angeles, but no one
seems to have ever met him,

which makes punching him in the
face frustratingly difficult.

Well, maybe...

Doctor,

are you sure you're all right
to be back at work?

I mean, it really
hasn't been that long

since Mum flambéed you.

Yes. It certainly was a...

traumatic experience.

Fortunately, I'm trained to deal
with that sort of thing,

and I'm doing just that.

And there's nothing
I can do to help?

Yes. You can let me
get back to you.

Oh, if you insist.

Oh, I haven't even told you
the worst part, have I?

Not only did he stick
my wings back on

and take my face,
he's stolen my shtick as well.

He gives out favors to people

for a price to be named later.

Sound familiar?

Lucifer, you didn't invent
the idea of giving out favors.

Yep,
forgot who I was talking to.

I suppose you did.

But you haven't given
out favors in a while.

And the Sinnerman knows it.

I think he's
taunting me.

Do you think he's human?

Or something else?

I don't know.

But whatever he is, I'm gonna
stop at nothing to find him.

We found him.

Who? The missing link?

Proof of human-rodent
copulation.

It's Mike Alonso.

The guy that skewered your
kidnapper under the pier.

This is clearly
not the Sinnerman.

Clearly not,
since I'm pretty sure

that no one with that name
actually exists.

He had motive, no alibi,

and, oh, yeah,
he confessed

under interrogation.
He's our guy.

Well, then he must be
working for the Sinnerman.

You're not gonna drag me

into whatever new
weird drama this is.

And could you please

stop saying "Sinnerman"?

Sinnerman.

Big Nina Simone fan?

Well, actually, I am.
But I was just saying - What? Nothing.

- to the detective...
- Nothing. It's nothing.

Are you hiding something
from me, Detective?

No.

I don't care;
I was just asking.

New case came in,
you're up.

Thank you.

Okay. Why did you just stop me
telling the new lieutenant

we're on the cusp of the
greatest case of our lives?

Because the Sinnerman is an
urban myth; he doesn't exist.

He's a boogeyman
that criminals use

to hide their bad behavior.

"Oh, the Sinnerman
made me do it."

Yet another thing
he's stolen from me,

being blamed for
the bad deeds of men.

- He can keep that one, actually.
- So the idea

of telling our new boss...

who I'm just starting
to get a rhythm with...

that you want to arrest
the Easter Bunny

doesn't really thrill me.

I have no intention
of arresting anyone.

I want to grab him by his
neck and see what happens

when I squeeze hard enough.

If you can bring me
any tiny bit of evidence

that the Sinnerman
actually exists,

I will be the first
to look into it.

But...

until then,
consider this case closed.

And let's focus
on this case, please.

Okay.

Daniel?

Guy's name
is JD Woodstock.

He lived right
around the corner.

Neighbors said he
was pretty quiet.

Unemployed, but we
found this on him.

Huh.

So what are these? Jokes?

A charitable description,
Detective.

"Avocado?

How about avoca-don't?"

Would it be rude
to throw tomatoes at a corpse?

Looks like he was
a struggling comedian.

We're trying to figure out
if he performed anywhere.

What'd he do? Make
fun of the wrong person?

Get in a fight with
an audience member?

It's worth exploring,
at least.

You know, there are a lot
of insult comics out there,

and not everybody
enjoys being mocked.

Hmm. We should listen
to Daniel, actually.

He's got a unique
insight into this case.

What's he talking about?

Well, they're
kindred spirits.

A fellow broken
soul who puts

the most embarrassing parts
of his life on display

for his audience
for an easy laugh.

He does stand-up;
I do improv.

They're completely
different things.

- Oh.
- Improv

is all about "yes, and."

Stand-up, well, that's about
telling jokes...

I-I regret starting
this entire conversation.

Wait. Excuse me, Dan.

You do improv?

How did I not know that?
And how did he?

- Well, it's a funny story, actually.
- Actually,

it's because I-I don't
tell a lot of people.

Why?

Yeah... hey, Ella.

How's it going?
What'd you find?

Well, no murder weapon, but I
did find three shell casings.

Running ballistics
on them now.

But, based on the
firing pattern,

I think this dude was tortured
before he finally died.

Oh, well congratulations,
Mr. Woodstock.

At least someone cared enough
about your jokes to...

Did you just
say Woodstock?

As in, JD Woodstock?

Yeah. Why?
You know him?

Yeah. He made big news
a couple days ago,

claiming Bobby Lowe
stole his jokes.

And who is Bobby Lowe?
A rival comedian

who hates himself so much
he stole this drivel?

Uh, no.

Open your eyes, pal.

Yeah. JD claimed
that Bobby's show

was based on
his own material.

And that he
could prove it.

Which is impossible,

because Bobby Lowe's show
is all about his life.

Wait, so you're saying that
this giant-headed buffoon

stole our poor
victim's ideas?

His life's work
and built a business out of it?

Mm. So now he's a "poor victim."

Look, I know you don't
believe me, Detective,

but I happen to be going through
something quite similar,

so if I can't get
my own justice,

I'm gonna get it for
this poor unfunny soul.

Well, I certainly did want you
to focus on this case,

but be careful
what you wish for.

At least the lieutenant
isn't here.

You know, if you keep saying
crazy things around him,

who knows what he might do.

Right. When have I ever
cared about that, Detective?

Ah, that's true.

I sweated over every joke.

Worked my ass off for months.

And Bobby stole it all
like it was nothing.

Created a show
based on my jokes!

Well Bobby, guess what?

I finally found it.

Proof you're a fraud.

And I'm going to show it
to the world.

Well? Which of these boxes
do I click on for the proof?

None. He posted this video
the day before he died.

And we can't find whatever proof
he claimed to have had.

So that's why JD
was tortured,

so the killer could
find and destroy it?

Or he's a liar.

Huh?

I'm not sure who said that,

but I totally agree with them.

Bobby Lowe would never
do something like that.

- Why do you say that?
- Because,

Bobby's show is so personal.

It's so authentic.

There's no way that
you could fake it.

Right. Don't listen to her.

The man is
clearly a thief.

Let's go give him
a good throttling.

I'm leaning towards
just talking to him.

And then throttling.
I suppose a little foreplay

never hurt anyone.

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait, wait.
You guys are gonna

go talk to him, like,
right now this second?

Yeah. Why?

Maybe I should go with.

You know, to collect
the evidence.

- Right. Well, if he's innocent...
- He's not innocent.

If he's innocent,
then there won't

be any evidence
to collect,

so probably better
if you hang here.

Yeah. I-I see what
you're saying there,

but...

I just think, to be safe,

I should collect
as much stuff as possible.

You know, fingerprints,
a lock of hair, an autograph.

Right.

To be safe.

Okay.

To be safe.

Yeah!

Hey.

Hey.

Yeah.

Thanks for meeting
me, Amenadiel.

Is there a shorter version
of that?

Does anyone ever
call you "Amen"?

Probably not.

Oh, you would be the first.

So, Linda,
what's going on?

Um, I just wanted
to say thank you.

For saving my life.

Maze is the one
who saved your life.

And I thanked
her so much,

I think she's avoiding me now.

But I wouldn't be here
without you, too.

I didn't do anything.

Other than miraculously
slowing down time

so that I didn't
bleed to death?

Well, other than that.

How are you really doing,
by the way?

I'm fine.

You have your powers back.

That must be exciting.

Mm. Um, not exactly.

They haven't worked
since that day.

I'm sorry to hear that.

Ah, don't be.

I think it's just my Father
testing me again.

But this time,
Linda, I'm ready.

How is He testing you?

Do you have to
fight someone?

Solve advanced
math problems?

Well, if I'm right,
there's something I need to do

in the penthouse and, uh...

I've been avoiding it.

Well, you helped me.

Why don't you let
me help you with...

whatever this is?

Unless it's math.

Oh, it's not math.

Then I'm sure I
can handle it.

Oh. Severed angel wings
in a closet.

Of course.

Totally handleable.

My irresponsible brother
left them here

for any half-drunk human
to stumble onto.

Proof of the divine just
left on the floor like...

like used laundry.

For some reason,
I imagined they just

magically disappeared
when he cut them off.

But this...

yeah, this is gruesome.

Mm-hmm.

You know where
the garbage bags are?

Hi, Lieutenant.

I just wanted to come by
and talk.

Kind of feel like we
got off on the wrong foot.

Pretty sure we're on exactly
the foot I want to be on.

I'm not a bad guy.

And I'm not a dirty cop.

So, you didn't check a gun
out of evidence

that was used to commit a crime?

I mean, yes.

At least it wasn't
a homicide, right?

Well, it, um...

- I-I was... I just...
- Stop.

I was gonna string
this along,

but it's already a
little too sad for me.

I'm actually glad
you came in.

Really?

I want all the intel that
you gathered on Lucifer.

Why would I have any
intel on Lucifer?

Because when he first started
working with Decker,

you were still
married to her.

And I'm guessing
you broke the rules

and dug up everything
you could on him.

I didn't. I mean...

Yeah. I did.

I'd like it all
on my desk in an hour.

That's the biggest cock
I've ever seen.

And, uh,
makeup right now.

Mm-hmm. Oh, whoa, whoa,
excuse me, guys.

- You guys can't be back here.
- We're looking for...

Bobby Lowe!

- Uh, right.
- Oh, no, no.

Oh, my God, please, no.

He doesn't like visitors.

Damn, I can't get fired.

Oh, my God, it's
really Bobby Lowe.

What did I say?

- I'm sorry.
- No eye contact,

no green Skittles
in my candy jar

and no guests!

I'm Detective Chloe Decker,
LAPD.

We want to talk to you about
the murder of JD Woodstock.

Why are you stopping?

Show starts in five minutes,
honey. Chop-chop.

God, he just called her honey.
So sweet.

Is this about that
stupid podcast?

You really think
I stole jokes? Me?

- Very much so, yes.
- Of course not.

What I think is I'd like

to explore his accusations,

starting with where
you were when he died.

You know why people

accuse others
of stealing material?

Because the others are thieves?

Because they're failures.

And instead of facing that,

they blame successful
people like me.

- How dare you...
- Uh...

They're ready for you, Bobby.

Look, some of us
have important work to do,

like entertaining America.

If you'd like to see
how it's done,

take a seat.

Charming.

I can't believe it.

He invited us to a taping.

Are you ready to laugh?

Wait, what, what?

No, I can't hear you guys.

Come on.

I bribed you with T-shirts.

I phoned in all my best jokes.

What more do you want?

Oh, yeah.

More T-shirts!

- Yeah!
- Let's try that again.

Look what I got.

Are you ready to laugh?

- Yeah!
- All right, guys.

Let's start the show.

Yeah!

Oh, there he is,
there he is.

Well, that was the worst date
of my entire life.

Oh, come on now, Bobby.

I'm sure it
wasn't that bad.

She left before
we got dessert.

But dessert's the
best part of the meal, Bobby.

Well, on the upside, you have
been trying to lose weight.

I didn't say I left
before dessert.

- This is what that arrogant fraud is so proud of?
- s h h.

Wait, what's this show about?

Oh. Those are his

imaginary friends.

They help him deal
with his insecurities.

- Oh.
- We've all been there, right?

- I'll just impress her at the party.
- Right.

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Time out.

Excuse me.

Sorry.

You stole a dead man's work

and turned it into this?

Get lost, Fraggle Rock.

What do you think
you're doing, man?

Stealing your show,

which only seems fair
as you stole it first.

Hey, mind your
own business, Dr. Who.

Pip pip out of here.

Dr. Who?

Don't laugh.

Oh, geez.

It's okay,
it's okay, it's okay.

Right, what have you got
to say for yourself?

Beat it, handy.

I'm not talking to you.
Get the hell out of my set, man.

Okay. Okay, fine.
Don't talk to me.

Let's have a chat with one of
your old friends, shall we?

- What have we got in here?
- You can't touch those puppets.

Does anyone work here?!

- Ah, here we go. All right, this one looks good.
- No.

No, no, n-no,
put-put that...

- put that down.
- What? What?

Jealous someone else
has their hand up my butt?

Actually, this apparatus
is more difficult than...

- Seriously, put it down.
- Ah, there's the trigger.

- Right. Where was I?
- You...

I'm telling you,
just get down, get down.

Oh, don't worry, everyone.

There's just a gun
stashed inside the puppet.

- Lucifer, put the gun down.
- Right.

Right. Yes.

Well, at least no one was hurt.

Uh... he did it.

Are you insane? You
could've killed him.

Me? I'm not the one who hid
a gun up a puppet's backside.

Or have all the puppets
got guns in them?

If so, I'll set my DVR.

No. We never used that puppet.

It was my imaginary friend's
imaginary friend.

The character didn't land.

- I wonder why.
- So you hid a gun in it?

I didn't think some lunatic

was gonna try to kill me
with it.

It's just a flesh wound.

And you admit
that it's your gun?

Yeah.

Ah, I see.

So you killed our poor victim,
ran back to work

and keistered it
in an old puppet.

Not the murder weapon.

This is a.380, and the
murderer used a 9mm.

All that means is that he hid
his other gun somewhere else.

So come on. Prostate exams
for all the puppets.

- Lucifer...
- I don't have another gun.

I didn't kill JD.

I don't believe you.
You're a thief.

You took everything JD had,
even his life.

So come on, what more
could you possibly desire?

I want out of this hell.

Every day I come to work, and I
tell stupid jokes with puppets.

Puppets!

Bobby.

What are you saying?

This is a dream gig.

It's a nightmare!

You know what
the biggest joke is?

You?

Me!

It's no fun
when they talk to themselves.

And now that JD's dead,
I'm never getting out of here.

What do you mean?

He was telling the truth.

I stole his act.

I based the show on it.

But I defended you!

J'accuse, Bobby Lowe!

J'accuse!

If you wanted out
of the job so bad,

why didn't you
just admit it and quit?

Golden handcuffs.

If I quit, I lose all the money.

And I really like the money.

And if JD revealed
that you were stealing

his act, and they fire you...

I get a golden parachute
instead.

Which is why I had
to keep up appearances,

not let anyone know the truth.

- But why hide the gun on set?
- Yeah.

Because I was getting
death threats.

Someone's pissed, claiming
all my jokes are about him.

The jokes that you stole
like the thief which you are?

That's a big strong,
Miss Lopez.

Yeah.

Any idea who was making
these threats?

They came
from an anonymous e-mail.

But like I said,
I stole the jokes.

The only person who knows
who they're about...

Is the dead guy. Great.

I'm gonna need those e-mails.

All right.

God.

This must be so painful.

Cutting off a piece of
yourself over and over.

Lucifer made it seem
like no big deal, but...

ouch.

We all have pain
that we hide, Linda,

that we're just not ready
to share with the world.

That's very true.

How do you know it's a test?

Because I'm faced with having
to dispose of the one thing

that I so desperately want back.

- Could just be really bad luck.
- No.

My Father always has a plan.

I don't doubt that anymore.

Seems awfully cruel.

Well, if it were easy,
it wouldn't be much of a test.

Would it?

"I know what you're doing.
Stop making fun of me,

or else I'm going to stab you."

"I know you're
making fun of me.

Stop or I'll
kill you."

Dreadfully unoriginal,
aren't they?

Looks like the threats
stopped last week

after JD posted his video.

So you think the killer saw it
and then realized

he'd been threatening the
wrong comedian the entire time?

And then killed JD
after he realized

he was the guy
actually making fun of him.

Seems possible.

So...

what's the joke
that he's so angry about?

Did our killer have
unfunny imaginary friends?

No, that happened later.

I did some research,
and originally,

the show was
much edgier.

Hmm?

About a guy dealing with
his insecurities about his,

um...

W-Well, I really don't
want to tell you.

Ooh. Well, now I need to know.

Dealing with his insecurities
about his, um, micropenis.

All right, well.

Hold me closer, tiny donger.

So you're saying we're looking
for a needle in a penis stack.

See, this is why I
didn't want to tell you.

- Anyhow, after it became a family show...
- Mm.

...the micropenis
got removed.

Did anyone even notice?

Okay.

Okay.

Just go to town.

Get them all out of your system.

What?

Well, perhaps...

perhaps we should
consider this case closed.

Excuse me?

Well, we thought
Bobby stole a joke,

but in actual fact, our deceased
stole this man's very essence.

I mean, his tiny,
microscopic essence, sure,

but his essence nonetheless.

So, uh, in actual fact,

I think our killer
is the victim here.

Yeah, that's actually
not how it works.

We still need to
find our killer.

I'll get these to cyber,
see if they can trace an I.P.

What? No.

Not "cinnamon,"
"Sinnerman."

He's not a spice, Maze.

Well, yes, I know
you have a hectic schedule,

but surely you can find time
to track him down for me.

Right. Stop pretending
the call is cutting out, Maze.

I taught you that trick.

Maze.

Mazikeen!

Lucifer
Morningstar.

I've figured out
what you really are.

So, it's come
to this, has it?

Finally, someone in the police
department realized that I am

the Devil himself.

Well, I'm surprised
it's taken you this long.

I have no idea
why you prance around

and call yourself the Devil.

"Prance"?

This is about the Sinnerman.

Right.

I see what's happening here.

A mysterious figure
handing out favors,

probably dashing and handsome.

You think I'm the Sinnerman.

Well, truth is...

You're not the Sinnerman...
he's smart and calculated.

You don't know me.

Maybe I am the Sinnerman.
Surprise!

No, I followed you
and looked into your history.

You're impulsive
and short-fused.

I am not.

Very well.

What is it that you think I am?

An idiot.

So what, you broke into
my apartment just to insult me?

You could've just waited
till I was in the office.

No, I came here to warn you.

I know you're
looking into him,

but you have no idea
what you're doing.

The Sinnerman is not a myth.

Very aware of that already,
thank you.

It's not a name to throw around.

Not even at the precinct.

That's why I came
here to talk.

He's that dangerous.

So am I.

Maybe so.

Either way, you need to know
who you're dealing with.

I've butted heads with him
in Chicago.

Did not end well.

Then, what? You ran here with
your tail between your legs?

I did, yeah.

Oh.

He killed someone...
close to me.

Really damn close.

I don't want what happened to
me to happen to anyone else.

Even you.

You need to be careful.

He stole from me, Lieutenant,
and I won't stand for it.

- You're not listening.
- Yes, I am.

Now you listen to me.

You can keep your head buried
in the sand if you want to,

while I go mano a Sinnermano,
all right?

I've got this.

So...

Compost?

Recycling?

I've never had to dispose
of pieces of divinity before.

Waste.

I thought this would be
a little more... reverential?

Less angel wing
dumpster fire.

Should we say something?

I feel like we should
say something...

What do you want me
to say here, Linda?

I didn't choose this test.

I don't even know if
this really is a test.

I mean, maybe I'm just
torturing myself here.

But if Lucifer wants to treat
his wings like trash,

then trash they shall be.
Even if it pains me

in my very soul.

I don't think Lucifer knows
how much this hurts you.

He never does.

And even though he
doesn't realize it,

everything he does seems
designed to hurt me.

To test you?

Huh. Wow.

You're right.

It's been right in front
of my face all along.

My test is Lucifer.

It's always been Lucifer.

You're very wise, Linda.

Thanks, Amen.

- Mm...
- Yeah, it doesn't work, does it?

I, uh, had a rather
illuminating conversation

with our new lieutenant
last night.

- What did you do?
- Nothing.

Yet. He warned me not
to talk about the Sinnerman.

Yeah, he's right.

You sound crazy... er.

No. He actually knows...

Cyber tracked all the e-mails
to the same I.P. address.

A comedy club on Sunset
called The Laughmaker.

So do we think
he works there?

Maybe. The e-mails
were always sent

- Thursday nights at 8:00 p.m.
- And that's when

Bobby's show aired.
So it makes sense

that that could set him off.

Yeah, it's also when
they have open mic night,

so it could be any one of
the comedians performing, too.

Or a diehard fan.

Either way,
they're consistent.

It would make sense
that the killer

could be at the next
open mic night.

Which is tonight.

- So how do we draw him out?
- Easy.

Arrest everyone in the club
and pull their pants down.

Tiniest weenie wins, for once.

Or, our guy is clearly
sensitive, right?

Why don't we use that
to flush him out?

What, get someone on stage
that'll really piss him off?

Yeah. Yeah,
that could work.

And I think we all know
the perfect man for that job.

All right,

please welcome to the stage,
for the first time,

the devilishly
handsome...

Dan Espinoza.

Remember "yes, and," Daniel.

Hi, everybody.

Hey. Hi.

So, uh...

Um...

Oh...

Uh, I have a friend.

And... he's got a tiny penis.

- What?
- Uh...

a micropenis.

Uh, in fact,

his penis is so tiny,

it's not even a micropenis.

It's an atomic penis.

Because atoms are small.

Not because it ex... plodes.

- His, uh, penis is so small...
- Boo!

It's a medical condition,
you monster.

- Lucifer...
- What? Can't stop, won't stop.

This is much too
fun, Detective.

No, no, no, keep going.
I want you to keep going.

Copy that.

- Anyways...
- So what?

Next you're gonna tell us
that his willy's

so small that
when he wants to have sex,

he needs to call out
a search party?

Or that his weenis is so small,

it looks like his
testicles are giving

the tiniest thumbs up?

Huh?

Shame on you

for mocking the poorly-endowed.

- Yeah!
- Oh, hold on.

Maybe there's no friend at all,

and you're the one
with the baby carrot.

What? No.

No, I-I... I-I don't
have a micropenis.

I mean, not that there's
anything wrong with having one.

Come on.
Now's your chance.

Show the world your teeny, tiny,
itsy-bitsy baby arm.

I-I... I don't have
a tiny, teeny...

It's okay!

We accept you
for your miniscule manhood.

I don't have a tiny...

- Oh, my...
- Lucifer.

What, you didn't bring any?

Get off.

Or show us
your nubbin. Hmm?

- Yeah!
- Yeah. Boo!

There you go!

Oh, lovely.

What the hell was that, man?

You undermined
the entire sting.

Well, I'd argue
you undermined it

with your botched
attempt at humor.

All I did was throw a drowning man a tomato.

Oh, what are the chances?

I didn't even want to
do this to begin with.

And I told you stand-up and
improv are completely different.

And why didn't you stop him?

Because I realized the killer

might seek out
a sympathetic voice.

- Hmm.
- He wasn't sympathetic.

He just used it as an excuse

to tell even more
micropenis jokes.

There is no way anyone's
gonna appreciate that.

Hey, man.

I just, uh,
wanted to say...

really appreciate you
saying what you did.

- Huh.
- Ah.

Absolutely.
No problem at all.

I mean, someone has to stand up
for the little guy, am I right?

Yeah.

Hearing stuff like that just...

makes you
want to murder someone,

doesn't it?

- Sure does.
- Hmm.

Well done, Detective.
Right, just to be sure,

shall I pull his pants down,
or do you want the honors?

You're gonna
do what?

- Follow me.
- What?

- Come on.
- I...

I don't understand.

Having a micropenis
isn't a crime.

So you didn't send
threatening e-mails to Bobby Lowe?

No, I did.

Back when Bobby was nobody,
I toured with him.

And that's when I figured
he heard about my...

condition.

Um, how would he have
heard about that?

All the chuckle bunnies talk.

The what?

Uh...

chicks who like to
have sex with comedians.

Oh, there's a term for that?

Oh, I should get
a term.

- Oh.
- Devil bunnies.

Oh, no. Lucifans.

- Can you please...?
- Or not.

One in particular,
I told some stories,

and then, I heard them
as part of Bobby's set.

So then,
you started threatening him.

I was blowing off steam, okay?

Every time
that stupid show aired,

it was like
a punch in the gut.

And then you found out
that JD was writing the jokes.

And justifiably
murdered him.

I forgave him.

What?

But he stole your life story
and profited from it.

Why would you forgive him?

I don't mind a fellow
struggling comic busting balls.

It's when a millionaire starts
punching down that I get pissed.

Or that good-looking jerk
from the club.

- What? Who's he talking about?
- Oh.

- Dan.
- Oh. Right.

Are you sure?

Besides, JD's life
was pretty sad.

I mean, I think
his last gig was a barbecue.

He even made up this sad story
about a warm-up comic wanting

to meet with him about a gig.

- As if that'd happen.
- Why?

Is telling bad jokes before
even worse jokes a coveted gig?

Are you kidding?

You work an hour a day
and clear six figures.

Not to mention,
you probably get a role

on the show at some point.

- Oh.
- Really?

Do you remember the name
of the, uh, warm-up comedian?

Uh, Shelly maybe, or...?

- Sheila?
- Yeah, that was it.

Do you know her?

We're done here.

What? Detective,
what did I miss?

Who's Sheila?

Sheila's the name of
Bobby Lowe's warm-up comedian.

Right.

Detective, are you sure
that Sheila's here?

Her roommate said that she'd be
here working on new jokes, so...

Well, I still
don't understand.

She seemed devastated when
Bobby said he was a joke thief.

Well, maybe she's not
pissed off about the theft.

What? Well, then, what else
would she be angry about?

Let's find out.

Okay.

As if these puppets
weren't creepy enough.

Hello?

Anyone here?

Hello?

Lucifer?

Hello, Detective.

Sorry.

Well, don't worry. At least
I don't have a gun up my bum.

If you're not gonna
take this seriously,

then you wait here for me.

Okay.

Okay.

Hello?

Anyone here?

What, what's going on?

- Is she still here?
- Who? She? Sheila?

Did she do this to you?

I told her I was gonna quit,

and-and she freaked out
on me, started screaming

about everything
she-she'd done for me.

But I-I can't
take it any-anymore. My craft...

Okay, midlife crisis
later. How long ago?

Uh, a few minutes maybe.

We-we heard you come in,
and then she hit me

with the butt of her,
of her gun... in the face!

- She has a gun?
- Did-did you hear me?!

I said, in-in the face!
This is my moneymaker!

- Am I okay?
- Lucifer, she's here!

- No.
- She's armed!

Why did you do
it, Sheila?

Get out of the way!

I'm getting out of here.

Well, once you
answer my question,

I'll gladly let you past.

Why kill and torture a man
for this pretentious hack?

Do you know how hard it is to
crawl out of the stand-up world

and get a gig like this?

But he's a fellow comedian.

Why would you kill for someone

who stole jokes from
one of your own?

So he stole material.

Hell, he stole half my set, too.
Who cares?!

You should!

It's yours!

One might say your
very identity.

Jokes don't make a comedian.

Everyone has an itchy butt joke.

It's all about
what you do with it.

What you do with
your itchy butt?

- With the joke!
- Oh.

So, what you're saying is,

it's okay to steal
someone's work as long

as you do it better?

And take me with you?
Hell yeah, it is.

- Oh...
- Now, if you don't get out of my way...

I swear...

Excellent work, Detective.

Okay, so... how do we get her
down from here?

Daniel?

- You're not gonna throw a tomato at me, are you?
- Ugh.

Come now, Daniel.

I only did that for the good of the case.

Also, I ran out,
but more importantly,

did you text me to come here?

I didn't recognize the number,
so I assumed it was you.

You didn't save my number?

It was me.

Too much hard work
to break into my penthouse again

for a heart-to-heart?

I did some digging,
and you were right.

The Sinnerman is here in L.A.

Oh, right.

Are you not gonna
take my advice

- from last night?
- Most definitely not.

I thought so.

You brought the Sinnerman's
murderous thug in.

He's all yours.

I couldn't get anything
out of him. Maybe you can.

Oh. Right.

So, what, is this
you passing the baton?

- Where are you running off to next?
- Nowhere.

I'm seeing this through.

But you need to shut your
damn mouth about the Sinnerman.

We need to play this carefully.

Let's keep it between us.

The less people who know about it,

the less chance
anyone gets hurt.

- But the detective...
- Has a kid.

She stays out of it.

Very well.

Hello, Alonso.

Let's cut to the
chase, shall we?

I know the Sinnerman had you
skewer Sam under the pier,

so tell me everything.

Who the hell's the Sinnerman?

Fine.

Fine. Let's play
a little game, shall we?

Look at me.

Tell me.

Why did you really
desire Sam's death?

I... didn't want my girl
to sleep with him anymore.

And?

And... that's it.

I got pissed.

Went medieval on his ass
to send a message.

No one touches my girl.

And what about the Sinnerman?

Man, I have no idea
what you're talking about.

Oh, you must know.
Come on, Alonso.

What about the Sinnerman?

I don't know.

You must know!

I don't know
anything... I swear.

I believe you.

He was telling the truth.

I mean, maybe

the Sinnerman manipulated Alonso
without him realizing it.

Or perhaps he was just
a deranged fellow who felt

impaling a rival lover to death
was the way to his girl's heart.

It's a bit old-fashioned,
really.

Lucifer, I want
to talk about your wings.

Oh, bloody hell.
They're not out again?!

So they grew back?

They did... this morning.

Sneaky buggers.

- You can't keep doing this to yourself.
- Oh, I agree.

- You do?
- Yes.

It's getting exhausting...
and quite messy.

No, I need a new solution.

Maybe I should hire someone
to do it.

Or maybe your solution is

to accept that, for now,
you have wings again.

What, and let Dad win,
or whoever it bloody is?

I... I don't think so.

It's easy to let
external factors... define us.

Especially the traumatic ones.

But only if we let them.

We all have itchy butts.

Excuse me?

No, it's just something
a woman said to me

right before
I punched her in the face.

It's not about the idea.
It's about the execution.

It's about how I use the wings.

That's... actually...

pretty wise.

Yeah. So I'll just
tuck them away

- and pretend they don't exist.
- Less good.

Someone else is giving favors.
Who cares?

I'm Lucifer bloody Morningstar!

I do favors better
than anyone else.

Amongst other things,
of course.

Or at least, I used to.

And I think that maybe...

...it's about time
I got back in the game.

Hello.

So, tell me. What is it
that you truly desire?