Michael looked down at Zarathel, writhing on Lucifer's lap, even as she came apart, because something new, screamed with the anguish of it.<br/><br/>His sword flicked out, resting between the swell of her breasts, though something stays his hand from driving it forward.<br/><br/>"You. Do not. Call me 'Brother' harlot...do you understand what you've done you little wretch?" Ignoring her lascivious offer, his gaze once more turns to Lucifer. "Leave. Leave and know you can never return. Take this...mewling thing with you."