Lucifer is not a subject Gadreel is capable of discussing, at least not in the depths of Heaven's prisons. He's been driven so close to the breaking point again and again that the slightest nudge in the wrong direction could send him spiraling into despair, leaving him silent and despondent like so many of their shattered brethren who have become unresponsive to anything, kindness or violence.

The word game seems like a good distraction and he nods slowly to convey his understanding. "I will try, Brother. But perhaps you should start? I am not certain that I understand the game." His eyes flick towards the nearest warden. Ordinarily they strode around arrogantly, wings held high and hands resting on swords or lashes as they moved among the prisoners. Today they ignored their charges, more intent on some conversation that he couldn't quite make out. "Something is wrong."

Yes, he knows this is apparent, but he has to start somewhere.