Oh, Mattheiu is entirely correct: Lucifer is a creature of utmost comforts. There are few to be found in the Venusian wilds, but this? Wound around the Hunter's shoulders and drinking in his warmth? This is almost hedonistic, and he's entirely certain that he's never giving this up again.

A hand brushes against his neck, and he cranes his head over to flick his tongue out against one of the man's gloved fingers with an almost lazy yawn. They're moving now, it feels very different to be riding on someone and to be so very close to the ground. He's not sure if he likes that part of things.

But they make it to the ship, to Mattheiu's ship, and Lucifer's interest is piqued. He hasn't come across many vessels before, at least not working ones, and the hum of the engines is so foreign that it gives him pause. The air inside the cockpit is warm, though, and he dares to poke his head out from Mattheiu's hood with a soft huff of breath.

And this will take us somewhere different? It seems...unreliable.