[Any scars Lucifer has are well tucked away in this meatsuit. It's only soft skin that has an odd glow about it as far as the eyes can see or the hands can feel. He sighs under the touches though, pressing into them as he curiously traces over Squalo's own battle scars with interest.

He leans forward to brush his lips over the scar on his chest, his own fingers trailing down Squalo's body with interest.]

This is so much more convenient than what we did at the table... It was rather hard to properly appreciate things there.