Ah, Morgan Freeman. How he's managed to parlay playing the exact same role -- Easy Reader -- into a mutlizillionaire Hollywood career and a deal with the Devil that he must appear in one out of every three films the industry produces, I have no idea. But if Michael Caine is Bruce's personal confidant then who better to play his business confidant, since Freeman and Caine have nearly identical career strategies: do any movie that's offered to you, as long as all you have to do is play yourself.
They make fair bookends within the story, too. Alfred is Mom, treating skinned knees, cleaning up the cave, fussing about Brucie's social life, and giving Sunday school homilies. Lucius, on the other hand, is clearly Dad.
"As long as I don't find out about it, it's okay."
"Hey, son; want a pocketknife?"
"Here's the keys to the Tumbler, son; knock yourself out."
But the Dark Knight being, as mentioned yesterday, not so much a movie as it is a film, Lucius has more on his plate than simply playing "Q" to Bruce's "Bond". Like the other characters, he's faced with uncomfortable moral dilemmas.
His basic mode is one of "plausible deniability"; whereas Alfred says "the Batman" in every other sentence, Lucius never speaks the word. If Alfred decides, "the less Bruce knows about what Rachel was going to do, the better", Lucius decides, "the less I know about what Bruce does, the better." Ah, but when Lucius discovers that Bruce has his own secret plans going on -- the adaptation of cell phone technology into the bat-sensor-web -- he's a bit disappointed and worried. "Wait, you're keeping this even from me? The cool dad?"
Suddenly, Lucius has found his (oddly place) lines of conscience. "Hey, it's fine by me, if you run around breaking people's limbs and tearing up the city in rumbles with one of your old pals who taught you how to knife-fight. But when you start using society's telecommunication infrastructure to locate mass-murdering psychotic clowns, well, that's a line I'm not willing to cross."
Lucius becomes Tony Stark; suddenly, he decides to find himself accountable for the applications of the technique he helps create, and wants to make sure its use is consistent with his own principles.
Lucius "bravely" lays down the law: either this thing goes, or I do. But not really. His position is actually, "Well, son, it's okay this one time, as long as you don't make a habit of it." Seems to me that what's really at stake here isn't Lucius's principles -- he's willing to sacrifice those for the Dire Situation at Hand (and there's one of those in Gotham on a weekly basis). What seems really to be at issue for Lucius is, "Am I part of your moral compass or aren't I? If I'm not, then count me out, and I won't be facing down any bullies who want to blackmail you about your secret life any more."
They make fair bookends within the story, too. Alfred is Mom, treating skinned knees, cleaning up the cave, fussing about Brucie's social life, and giving Sunday school homilies. Lucius, on the other hand, is clearly Dad. 
