A tiny spark ignites a flame, just as a helping hand can do the same

Det var sjældent Olive frivilligt indvilligede i at tage de tidlige vagter. Ikke fordi hun havde et behov for at danse i de timer, hvor smågrønne papir lapper fløj lige så frit som alkoholen flød. Pengene manglede ikke ligefrem på kontoen, hvad der drev dæmonen, var stemningen og folkene som mørket trak med sig. Stamkunder var også at finde i de lyse timer, men der var langt mellem dem og de der ikke helt lod til at forstå en afklædt kvindekrop ikke automatisk indbød til fri leg.
Men den dag havde en af de andre piger måttet lægge sig med ’maveonde’ og tilhørende kvalme, hvilket nok snarer drejede sig om der var en cellulær udvikling i gang, på ottende uge, så havde Olive som en god kollega naturligvis sagt ja til vagten. Underordnet var det at den tidlige vagt for en gangs skyld passede perfekt, sammen med de resterende planer for dagen.
Til Olives store overraskelse havde langt største delen af vagten forløbet gnidningsfrit. Det var ikke blevet til nært så mange private danse eller samtaler med dem der ønskede et lyttende øre over vuggende hofter, som hun var vant til. Kun mod slutningen havde de måtte døje med en kunde, hvis skjorte krave strammede lige rigeligt, så hørelsen tilsyneladende blev forringet.
Resultatet blev, at da han for tiende gang havde forsøgt at snige en hånd ind mellem hendes ben eller da han for guderne ville vide hvor mange gange, atter havde forsøgt sig med at fastholde hende over sig, så var han blevet fulgt pænt på vej af en af dørmændene. Det havde været omkring en time før Olive var søgt mod påklædningsrummet.

”Jimmy, can you tell Skylar that I’ve laid my pearl choker at her space? I’ve to go now and her shift stars in,” blikket søgte ned mod armbåndsuret, om det slanke håndled ”- an hour or so? I promised I would look after it.” De brune øjne faldt tilbage på den skaldede, middelaldrende mandsperson ”I’ll, if you turn your pretty face around and walk out of here. You shouldn't waste your free time in here, Gemma.” med en hånd om hver skulder drejede han hende omkring og puffede hende blidt, men bestemt mod bagdøren. ”Bye, Jimmy.” hilste hun lattermildt af, inden den tunge dør lukkede imellem dem.
Kulden bed sig hurtigt gennem den åbne jakke, der hastigt blev lukket inden det lysegrå strik tørklæde blev viklet et par gange omkring halsen. Med hænderne stukket dybt i lommerne, i dække fra kulden, blev kursen sat ned ad den mennesketomme gade.
Den første side gade blev passeret, da en skikkelse trådte fri af skyggerne. I færd med at gennemrode tasken på skulderen efter en paraply, bemærkede Olive først sin forfølger i det han kortede afstanden mellem dem i fem lange skridt og i et hyl, der flængede nattens stilhed, trak hende ind i mørket mellem to bygninger, med tasken og en del af dens indhold liggende ud for blindgyden. Hånden over munden forstummede det næste forsøg på et skrig. "Shh, don't scream or I'll cut out your tongue..." kommanderede han lavmælt, med Olive presset op mod muren. Stemmen blev genkendt med det samme, det var den samme mand der var blevet eskorteret ud fra Devil's point. Han havde stået i regnen en time og ventet, ventet på hun fik fri...
Det medgivende nik fik ham til at fjerne hånden, tøvende, men i stedet for at makke ret tømte hun sine lunger for luft i et skrig, smagen af jern ramte tungen. "Shut up!" endnu et slag ramte hende, denne gang på kindbenet så det sang af smerte.

“Guys, we’re closing up now.” A paper bill was placed on the table between two men who’d been too caught up in conversation to notice that the clock was nearing midnight. Michael raised his eyes to the waiter, then at the empty tables in the restaurant. “Yes, of course.” He reached inside his suit jacket for his wallet, taking out a few banknotes that he placed on top of the receipt. “Keep the change.” The waiter thanked him before walking back to the cash register. It wasn’t often that Michael got to spend nights like this, going out to a restaurant with an old friend. Someone he hadn’t seen since the late seventies. But more than that, he was a trusted business partner.  A shifter who worked for the CIA, capable of changing his appearance to that of another person. And he’d just now come to Gaia to investigate a mafia operation, in which Michael immediately offered his help. So they'd spent most of the night discussing back and forth regarding this. He rose to his feet and walked to the wardrobe to fetch his coat and hat. Outside, they said their goodbyes and parted ways. Him driving off in a black car and Michael on foot.

He inhaled a breath of the crisp air as he walked down the empty street. Every business was closed with the exception of a pub on the corner, where a small gathering of people stood outside. However, he quickly found himself in another neighborhood. And what had initially seemed to be one of the more peaceful nights in Aston, turned much more sinister as a piercing scream echoed through the night. Michael immediately teleported a few blocks down the road where the scream had sounded. Holy light emanated from him once he arrived. Lighting up the dark alleyway. Just long enough for him to see the woman pressed up against the wall by the hands of a man. It didn’t take long for the man to turn his eyes at the alarming light. But just when he did, Michael kicked him harshly, so he fell backward onto the asphalt. He loathed men like him, and it was clear to tell in his expression as he glared down at him. He then picked him up by his jacket and slammed him into the brick wall, sending a burning stream of electricity through him. The assailant groaned in pain and begged him to stop, so he did. Sparing him this time. “You ever harm a woman again, so help me, I will kill you.” There was not the least trace of dubiety in his voice. He would end him should he ever find himself in the act of a crime. But Michael liked to think of himself as magnanimous. At least on nights where he’d rather not deal with getting rid of a corpse. The man nodded, begging him to let him go, probably still feeling the remnants of the electricity, because when Michael let go of his body he fell down and passed out. Michael crouched to put two fingers against his pulse. He was still alive. He then got up to his feet to turn his attention to the woman. He slowly approached her. Normally his aura would make people feel safe. But demons had the tendency to think quite the contrary. The fact that he was an angel was usually enough for them to act hostile or distrustful.
 
“Are you all right, miss?” His eyes assessed her for any visible injuries before they stopped at her mouth where blood had tinted her lips and drops glided down her chin. “What's your name?” He found a handkerchief in his jacket before he gently pressed it against her skin to dry off the blood. Running his thumb across her lower lip with the cloth before he raised his gaze to her eyes. “I do insist on escorting you the rest of your way.” For all he knew, another predator could be on the prowl, and he’d prefer if she returned home safely. Even if she was a demon. Even if that meant she'd probably taken innocent lives, and hence that he shouldn't help her at all. But at that moment, he tried to push those thoughts aside. Because it was the least he could do. From one person to another. Regardless of race. He then removed the handkerchief from her skin and stepped back.

Kraften der blev lagt bag slagene, da skulle forsøge at få sjæledæmonen til at bide sit skrig i sig, var på ingen tænkelig måde forsøgt dæmpet. Det vidnede både blodet fra hvor tænderne havde skrabet imod kinden, men så bestemt også hvordan det andet slag mod ansigtet formåede at få det til kortvarigt at sortne for øjnene, under det smertestøn der tvang alt luft ud fra lungerne. Gispende vendte synet tilbage i selskab med hvide lysglimt, bevægede sig som stjernestøv ind fra periferien af hendes synsfelt. Smerten der strålede fra mellemgulvet, sladrede om endnu et slag, der gjorde det svært at trække luft ind, til endnu et kald om hjælp ud i natten.

Olive nåede knapt at knapt nok at registrere lyset, som ikke at værende et hendes egen hjerne opdigtede, før hendes overfaldsmand ikke længere stod så nært, at de varme ånde ramte det forslået ansigt. I stedet var han blevet revet væk og tryglede nu den nytilkommende om at stoppe. Manden fik kun til nøds kæmpet sig gennem ordene under den sammenbidte og lidende grimasse. Om det var smerterne eller truslen, der fik blodet til at forlade ansigtet, var svært at sige, måske en blanding.
Lamslået, fordi virkeligheden ikke helt var gået op for hende, stod hun med en støttende hånd mod muren og så til, mens den fremmede hatteklædte mandskikkelse, placerede to fingre mod siden af halsen på den besvimede.

Munden åbnede sig, da følelsen ramte som et godstog og Olive med et vidste hvem, rettere hvad der stod overfor hende; af alle væsner der havde betrådt denne jord, så skulle en engel af alle ende ud som hendes redningsmand… Munden lukkede sig og kvalte det spørgsmål der havde været lige ved at rulle af tungespidsen, i bytte for et andet. ”Why are you helping me? You know what I’m…” spurgte hun tydeligt uforstående, ignorerende hans spørgsmål om hun var okay. Naturligvis var hun ikke okay, det kunne selv den største kraftidiot se.
Sammenbidt trak hun ny luft ind, da han nænsomt gav sig til at fjerne blodet, uden så meget som at spørger om lov først. Den ene hånd løftede sig, hvor den lukkede sig fast omkring hans håndled ”Which one of them? My true name, I’m not giving you that, angel boy. My stage name, Gemma but my civilian name, Olive.” Spurgte hun retorisk inden svaret endeligt lød med et latterfnys, der staks fik en lidende grimasse til at trække sig over ansigtet, øm efter slagene kroppen allerede var i færd med at fjerne sporene fra.
”… Excuse me? Insist, how hard did you hit your head, when you landed?” spurgte hun mistroisk, med øjenbryn der kravlede længere op I panden. Stolthed og ikke mindst stædighed satte sig straks i vejen for at tage imod tilbuddet om at blive fulgt på vej. Han var jo alt hvad hun foragtede og det mindede hans aura hende glædeligt om. Hvorfor skulle en engel ønske at en dæmon kom sikkert hjem?

He narrowed his eyes at her question. He’d thought the reason for his help had been obvious. She had screamed for it, after all. And no matter what she was, he couldn’t get himself to look the other way and go on with his business. If it had been any ordinary fight, he might have. But what that man was about to do was downright repulsing, so interfering had been an easy choice. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he said sarcastically. He understood that she was in a state of shock and that it seemed incomprehensible to her that he’d chosen to help a demon out of all people. Her fist tightened around his wrist as he dried off her blood which made him glare into her eyes without any trace of friendliness in them. She didn’t appreciate his help, that much was clear. She then refused to tell him her real name. It wasn’t so much that he desired to know more about her in that manner. It had simply been an innocent question. A way for him to test the severity of her injuries and obtain some sort of trust between them. However, if he wanted to find out her real name, it wasn’t like that was an impossible task. “Look, I understand that you don’t trust me, but I am not here to kill you. If I were, I’d cared less to push that guy off you.” He glanced at the man on the ground before he looked back at her. Demons and their hatred towards his kind. And here he had only done what he thought to be a good deed. It was almost as if she begged him to pierce his blade through her heart, the way she talked to him. Her moral compass revealed that she was far from innocent - that she in many ways deserved that fate. Yet he refrained from doing so. Keeping up with the magnanimity. He tilted his head slightly as she winced in pain - pain that she’d hidden well. She was very stubborn for still denying an angel’s help considering this, but who was he to insist on helping when she couldn’t care less of it.  

He clenched his jaw at her mocking question, restraining himself from slamming her up against the wall. Instead, he exhaled. It seemed like she intended to uphold the hostile attitude. And no matter what he said, he didn't think that was going to change. “Very well.” He didn’t have time for her unappreciative attitude, and it did nothing short of annoy him, so it was better to just move on rather than listen to any more of it. “I suppose you're not interested in a healing potion either?” he asked, already sensing that her reply would be a firm no. He always carried them around for situations like this. And perhaps it was better given to someone else, but he'd thought he'd at least offer it before he left.

Havde hun haft bare et øjeblik til at lade hele situationen til at bundfælde sig, så havde Olive næppe mødt ham helt den samme mængde fjendtlighed som nu. Chokket sad med et krampagtigt tag i hende, så hun i den smerte tågede tilstand valgte at møde sin redningsmand med løftede parader, i stedet for taknemmelighed.
”How the hell should I know? It’s not like it’s every day that an angel decides to help a demon out. You could’ve let him have his ways with me before killing both of us? Or just me. - I’m pretty sure your God would thank you for one demon less to roam the earth?” bed hun defensivt tilbage for hans forsikring om han ikke ønskede at slå hende ihjel. Det handlede ikke alene om stolthed når hun ikke bare tillod ham at komme for nært, men en sund agtpågivenhed overfor bevingede himmelfolk. Det var i hvert fald hvad sjæledæmonen bildte sig selv ind og ikke at hun mest af alt var irriteret over sig selv. Hun burde ikke have vidst den bevidstløse mand havde fulgt med fra skyggerne. Hun burde selv havde kunnet neutraliseret ham før det første slag havde ramt, i stedet havde hun givet sig til at skrige som et hjælpeløst lam.

Med mistroen til ham endnu stærk i blikket, lod hun baghovedet læne sig tilbage mod muren. Det lille bump det gav formåede at tvinge øjnene lukkede, for følelsen af nervebaner der gik i brand. Smerten trak sig fra kæben, ned mod kravebenet og ud mod skulderen. Det her ville komme til at være mærkbart længe…
Øjnene blev tvunget åbne, ved benævnelsen af noget der kunne tage smerterne og få hende på fode, hurtigere end kroppen selv kunne formå. Den svage knurren var mere ment til hende selv og den indre konflikt spørgsmålet affødte. Stoltheden blev modvilligt slugt ”Fine… But could you at least give me your name? You know just in case you’re in fact trying to poison me and I need to hunt you down?” kontra spurgte hun, men valgte alligevel hurtigt efter at tilføje ”I’m kidding...! I'm not gonna chase you down.” inden han kunne nå at give hende svar på tiltale for den nye stikpille af ord.

Truth was, she couldn’t know. Some angels would have taken one look at the demon and killed her. It didn’t matter if she’d been in danger or not. Angels were taught to believe that demons belonged in Hell. At the same time, there were angels who distanced themselves from violence altogether. However, most of those were stationed in Heaven. But he assured her that he had no such intentions because he hoped it would help her calm down. Even if he naturally understood why she kept her guard up. After all, it was stupid to trust most strangers. “You are right.” He looked into her eyes, contemplating whether his Father would have wanted him to kill her, then deciding to follow the first intuition that told him not to. And certainly, if he had any such intention, he wouldn’t still be standing there. “But I promise you, I just want to help.” He genuinely wanted to make sure she was going to be okay. That she at the very least was getting home safe, and if not that, he hoped she’d accept his offer to relieve the pain she was in.

Fine. He raised his brows momentarily as he’d anticipated a refusal. But it seemed that something had changed. It could be that she sensed he was sincere. Or it could simply be the affliction winning over the pride and distrust. It was most likely the latter. He smiled faintly at her joking remark on why she wanted to know his name. If only she knew the many demons who were actively hunting him down as they spoke. One additional demon certainly wasn’t going to alter much in that equation. “I’m Michael,” he introduced himself before he reached inside his jacket to retrieve a small vial of a transparent liquid with an illuminating turquoise hue to it. A healing potion from one of his fairy suppliers. “You might feel a little dizzy or nauseous at first, but it should diminish once the healing potion has taken the worst of your pain,” he explained, wanting to be transparent about this so she didn't think he indeed was trying to poison her. Minor side-effects were a common risk when it came to most remedies. He handed it to her before he looked over his shoulder to check on the unconscious man on the ground. “You know this man?” he asked as he returned his eyes to her. It was better if she didn’t. If they didn’t have a relation and hence that he didn’t know where she lived. Because he wasn't so sure this particular man was smart enough to stay away.

Han kunne have benægtet hårdnakket på hun nogensinde havde været i fare i hans nærvær. Trukket på den klassiske fortælling om hvordan engle var indbegrebet af godhed, så selv hun som dæmon intet havde at frygte når han tilbød en fremstrakt hånd. I stedet gjorde han stik modsat og det fik Olive til at blinke et par gange i overraskelse, inden deres blik låste sig i hinandens. Det var det, der første gang fik mundvigene til at sitre forræderisk, som de lagde an til at smil, før det lykkes at holde dem i ro i en lige linje.

Læberne blev presset sammen så de forsvandt i en small streg, mens hun rullede øjne mod himlen med et latterfnys. Handlingen blev hurtigt fortrudt da hun betalte prisen med smerte stik. Luft blev trykket sammenbidt ind, hvorefter hun små sarkastisk ytrede “Of cause your name is Michael… I’m sorry but your father really needs to, I don’t know shake the fruit bowl with names or something like that.” det var jo næsten for kliché. Hun havde endda været lige ved at spørger om han da så også var en af Guds ærkeengle. Hvis hun dog bare havde vidst hvor præcist det spørgsmål havde været…
Olive tog imod den lille flacon lignede beholder, lod den vendes og drejes for hendes blik. Skepticismen lysende ud af hendes ansigt for den glødende væske der skvulpede rundt bag glasset, alt mens hun lyttede til bivirkningerne hun måske ville opleve. “No.” svarede hun kort før proppen blev fjernet og den flakonen hold mod hendes læber. Med hovedet bøjet tilbage tømte hun dens indhold, med forventningen om en bitter. Væsken var kvalmende sød, næsten som ren glukose og selvom det var væsentligt bedre end besk, så slap hun ikke for at skære en lille ikke nært så sammenkrøllet grimasse.
“Or kind of. – He’s a regular at Devil’s point, but he got tossed out hours ago.” fulgte hun op med til spørgsmålet om hun kendte manden. Den tome flaske blev rakt frem mod Michael, men blikket var rettet mod den navnløse mand på jorden. Hun lagde ingen gang selv mærke til, hvordan hovedet skrånede sig, men forsatte med at søge til skulderen efter det burde være standset. Ikke dissideret svimmel, men med en følelse af Jordens bevægelse omkring sin egen akse tog til, endte hun med at gribe ud, få fat i den ene af Michaels overarme med et “Ohh…”.

He frowned subtly as she rolled her eyes, only to follow it with an insult, leaving him further perplexed. “I beg your pardon?” Of course, he’d already learned that she harbored an attitude, bordering on rudeness, but it was very uncalled for considering that he'd only helped her. Then he realized that she thought he was an ordinary angel, being named after the first archangel. After him. But even that didn’t justify her response. “I am the first of my name,” he clarified, although he cared little of what she thought of his name or who he was. In fact, he’d just hoped she’d return the kindness. But he wasn’t particularly surprised to know that she wouldn’t.

Michael watched her as she took the vial in her hand and inspected its contents. He understood why she’d be skeptical of it, but if she was in a lot of pain, he figured she’d take it regardless of the mistrust between them. And then she'd know that he'd been truthful. He nodded as she explained that she didn’t know her assailant. Not beside him being a regular at Devil’s Point. So, she worked at a gentleman’s club. Unfortunately, those types of dancers were frequent victims of guys like him, but then again, it was a den of iniquity. The women were paid for promoting lust, and good things rarely came to those who sinned. However, he wasn’t further judgmental about it, knowing that the women might have very different reasons for working in a place like that. “I’d advise you to report him if he shows up at the club again.” He took the vial back from her to place it inside his jacket, then following her gaze to the man. He knew that they usually had a strong security team at a place like that, so it shouldn’t be difficult to have him permanently banned from the club.

He was just about to step towards him to check his wallet for identification when she grabbed his upper arm. He turned his attention to her, trying to get an idea of how much the potion was affecting her. He wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her rather closely to prevent her from falling. “I got you,” he assured her before he gazed down the empty alley. “Do you live nearby?” he asked, knowing that she might be persistent and refuse any further help, let alone risk him knowing where she lived. Not that it would matter. Because if he wanted to find her, he would regardless of knowing her address beforehand. And she could hardly walk home on her own in this state. But if she chose to decline, he'd still stay with her until she felt better.

For bare et split sekund havde hun været lige ved at accentuere, hvad der præcist havde været ment med en lette fornærmelse at hans Faders begrænsede navne udvalg, da hun i stedet måtte se sig selv slået lidt ud af kurs - mere end hun allerede havde været over det faktum, at en engel skulle blive nattens rednings mand. Perpleks bevægede de mørke øjne sig ned over engels skikkelse, næsten sm ledte hun efter en grund for ham at lyve, men fandt igen. “Out of all angels...” mumlede hun mere henvendt til sig selv og universet, end til Michael selv. Selvom blikket fandt væk tilbage på hans ansigt, syntes de ikke til at kunne finde et fast punkt, som realiseringen langsomt fik lov til at bundfalde sig hos den forslået dæmon. Hun havde kun sin sejlivede selvkontrol at takke for ikke at række op og gribe omkring det skarpe kæbepartiet, for at trække ham nærmere til yderligere inspektion. I stedet endte hun med at slippe et latterfnys af sin egen tanke, what was the chances of meeting the one archangel who she thought without a doubt would've killed her without even blinking an eye?. Tanken var absurd. Nej, hele denne scene der udspillede sig var absurd...

Atter måtte hun erkende han ikke levede op til de fordomme der sad med dybe rødder i hende. Ingen ting, ikke så meget som en flig af fordømmelse mødte hende, da hun forklarede sig om genskabet til den bevidstløse mand. Noget Olive i den grad ikke forventede, nærmere det modsatte at en prædiken om livet i synd eller som minimum blot et skarpt kritisk blik. Langsomt men bestemt pressede der sig en oprigtig nysgerrighed ind ved siden fordommenes plads. Ikke længere så sikker på, at de ting der var blevet hende fortalt om hans slags - om ham - havde det hold i sig, som hun altid havde været så skråsikker i sin tro på.
Rådet var blevet hørt, men den snurrende fornemmelse havde fulgt det lige i hælene, hvorfor Olive kun nåede at tilkendegive det blev taget til efterretning med et kort nik. Før hun med lukkede øjne havde måttet række efter det eneste der syntes at stå stille i verden; ham.
“St. Michael Circus no. 5, but can we just stand still for a second? The world seems to turn so bloody fast right now.” svarede hun tilbage, uden den store modvilje over at lade ham følge hende på vej. Sekunderne efter hendes forespørgelse strammede fingrene sig omkring armen. Intentionen var ikke at bringe smerte, men at fastholde ham til stedet bare et øjeblik indtil det ikke føltes helt så slemt at åbne øjnene på ny. “Okay... We can go now.” proklamerede hun mere sikkert i sine ord, end hun følte sig.

He understood why the revelation of who he was might come as a shock. Much more so than the scenario of an angel rescuing a demon. If she knew even a fraction of what he’d done, she also knew that he’d killed countless of her kind. That he was the one who banished Lucifer and ultimately did everything in his power to rid the world of evil. But he always had a justified reason for murdering someone. He had stopped going after people for what they were a long time ago. Now it had become more about who they were. Judging them by the actions of their moral compass. Her friends would undoubtedly not believe her if she told them that the first archangel had rescued her. Yet here he was, persistent on not letting her out of sight until he knew that she was safe.

A faint tug pulled at the corner of his mouth at the name of her address. What were the odds of her living next door to his son? And at an address including his name, on top of that. However, he doubted that they’d had many exchanges. Like Michael, his son had spent much of his life hunting beings like her. Not that he was going to reveal this relation to her. He rarely talked of his personal relations if he could avoid it because it only brought those people in more danger. Far too many had already lost their lives at the hands of his enemies. “All right.” He looked down at her, standing still as she’d requested and holding her firmly against him while her dizziness passed by. It was the strangest feeling being so close to a demon. Not without either of them attempting to hurt the other. He tensed the muscles as she tightened her grip, keeping him in place even if he hadn’t any intention of moving. He gave her a nod as she said they could go, slowly loosening his grip around her. “How are you feeling?” he asked as he looked into her eyes, hoping to hear that the healing had worked. When it seemed like she’d regained her balance he stepped back. He gave the unconscious man a brief glance before he started to walk out of the alley with her. He hoped he'd take his warning to heart and that he'd not have to deal with him again. “So, Olive, I gotta ask. Do you hate angels because someone mistreated you or because that was what you were brought to believe? And don't get me wrong. I understand why you do. I hated all demons for the longest time. Didn't matter who they were. And maybe part of me still thinks you deserve to be sent to Hell. But I've also learned that some of you do have good inside you.” he said as they walked. After all, it wasn't every day he could have this kind of conversation with a demon such as her. And morals had always been a topic of interest to him. Besides, it was true. He didn't have time to target every demon, so instead, he prioritized the worst. And if she killed those who came to her in lust or had committed other sins, then they weren't truly innocents unless they asked for forgiveness. And hence she was not one of those demons that he prioritized to eliminate.

Trækningen i hans mundvig var så svag, at den knapt nok var synlig eller kunne kategoriseres til at være et smil. Alligevel kunne Mazikeen havde været blind og stadig vide, at han ikke formåede at undertrykke den lille antydning af et smil for skæbnes ironi. Intet hun ikke kunne fortænke ham for også selvom hun små tørt valgte at pointere “Michael is a perfectly normal street name...” så lykkes det kun halvvejs at holde mundvigende fra at vise samme trækning, som hans, mest af alt fordi hun godt selv kunne høre, hvor dobbelt moralsk det postulat var. Hun havde trods alt for intet mindre end få minutter siden bebrejdet ham for at være stereotypen for en engel. I hvert fald hvad angik navn, og nu forsøgte hun halv hjertet at ignorerer det sammentraf at hun boede på en gade opkaldt efter ham.
Blikket veg ikke fra hans da hun svarede “Better, a lot better actually, my jaw doesn't hurt and the headache is barely there. I'm sure it will be gone as soon as we are out on the street, and if I'm lucky it will take the feeling of the earth turning with it.” hvorefter hun en anelse modvilligt gav slip på den arm der havde været det eneste der syntes ikke at bevæge sig, selvom svimmelheden næsten var gået i sig selv. Hun skulle bare ikke lave nogle pludselige bevægelser, det var i hvert fald sådan det føltes da hun fulgte med sin frelser. Modsat Michael værdigede hun ikke den bevidstløse mand så meget som et sideblik, som hun trådte forbi ham.
Stilheden lå kort mellem dem og nåde aldrig et punkt hvor den virkede larmende akavet før end den blev brudt med et spørgsmål. Defensivt “No.” brød ind i hans talestrøm, da spørgsmålet gik på om hun var blevet gjort uret af en engel, inden hun overhovedet selv havde kunnet nå at registrere det. Hun endte derfor med at blinke et par gange over sin egen overraskelse, før hun med en svag hovedrysten indikerede at svaret ikke var et han skulle tage til sig, mens hun endnu en gang måtte række ud og lægge en flad støttende hånd mod hans arm, alt mens hun lyttede til resten af hans forklaring. Hovedet drejede sig i hans retning, med et øjenbryn skeptisk skudt til vejrs “My neighbor is a cob just so you know, so if you decide to bring me back to hell it would be a good idea to do it before we reach my place.” hånden fjernede sig fra ham igen inden hun gav sig til at svare på spørgsmålet “Yes, I mean yes and no. Believe it or not but I was once married to an angel, and who would've thought he would turn out to be one of the biggest pieces of shit to ever step foot on earth? And I've been around my fair share of human trash when I was a lawyer.” et bitter smil træk sig ind over læberne. Ikke fordi hun fortrød den del af hendes fortid, den havde trods alt givet en vigtig livslektie, men det betød ikke at der var ting hun ikke ville have gjort anderledes den dag i dag. Med et svagt suk løftede det brune blik sig op mod den mørke himmel over dem. “But I wasn't raised to hate your kind as you were, just as I wasn't raised to be fond of you.” tilføjede hun eftertænksomt, som hun forsøgte at huske tilbage om der havde været nogen form for indoktrinering af had for engle, men syntes ikke at kunne erindre det nogensinde var en ting, hvor atypisk det så end var “Well, I was told the stories about you and how you've hunted down demons for an eternity. So you could say that there was some kind of learned aversion towards angels?”.

His smile widened as she commented on the name of her street. “Yet, it’s not a very original name.” He glanced at her, hinting at her remark earlier about his name in a joking manner. However, the smile on her lips told her that she saw the coincidence as well. If only she knew about her neighbor being his son as well. It only made the situation that much more surreal. He nodded affirmatively as she said she felt better. The side-effects, however, might not disappear so quickly, but he naturally hoped they would. And that she wouldn’t feel faint anymore.

He held a short break in his speech as she responded with an almost immediate no, surprised by the fact she hadn’t been mistreated by an angel considering her first reaction to him. The moment she placed a hand against his arm, he slowed his pace, wanting to make sure that she wasn’t feeling too dizzy to walk. Eventually concluding that she just needed a bit of support. “You think your neighbor will save you from me?” Now, he couldn’t help but find amusement in that. And it wasn’t only because he was his son. “I’ve worked with the police on many occasions, and I can assure you they’re always going to be on my side.” He didn’t know why she thought they might save her from the inevitable because she’d end in Hell sooner or later. No one would save her from that fate. “But you’re not going to Hell today,” he reassured her, glancing to her side. Not unless she attacked him. His sole mission was to get her home safe. “What do you mean back to Hell? You’ve already been there?” he asked, having noted her choice of words. And for someone who’d been in Hell himself, he was curious to know what her history regarding that was.
He raised his brows momentarily at her revelation of being married to an angel. He’d not expected an exotic dancer to have ever dated an angel, but then again, he wasn’t there to judge her. Especially not considering that he himself had been with a demon. “I guess we’re all capable of being jerks,” he smiled briefly at this as he looked at her. Angels might be the closest beings to the perfection of God, but they were still capable of sin. They were still fallible. “Why did you leave your profession as a lawyer?” he asked, interested to know what a woman with her education was doing in her current job with that background.

He nodded slowly as she said she wasn’t raised to either like or dislike them, then giving her a brief glance as she admitted to having heard stories about him. “Hm,” he murmured thoughtfully as he turned his gaze ahead of him again. “I wouldn’t expect any less,” he admitted, noticing the questioning tone to the words. “We do teach the angels to hate your kind, so it’s only natural for your superiors to do the same.” It was a tale as old as time. For them both to despise each other. It all stemming from the night where Lucifer decided to go against the angels and God, not wanting to bow down to the humans.

Silently she listened to his voice breaking the brief silence between them. Notching how smooth and deep it was, the soothing tone just as you would expect from a creature of God, but surprisingly she didn't mind it. The lingering feeling of natural aversion for him still luring in the back of her mind, or more correctly not him as a person but his descent.
“An archangel as old as time? Nah. No man, policeman or not, could do me much help if you decided to snap my neck. Only the Gods or the king of the underworld could save me from that destiny - maybe?” She scoffed with honesty, licking her lips as she lifted her chin towards the sky above for a few seconds before lowering her gaze back at him with thoughtful eyes. Wasn't too surprised to learn he got friends in the law enforcement. He was basically God's lawman.
“I like to think that I might stand my ground for a while against you,” She declared with no hesitation before adding “​but I'm no fool and I know when I'm outnumbered by fate. So instead I appreciate your gentlemanly manners and kindness.” If she bound their fates together she might stand a chance, but being one of God's first she would forecast he would be brought back to life before she had her last breath.
She nodded as an answer to his question, oping her mouth before shutting it without further explanation. It wasn't that she had something to hide, it was just that the reason why she had been there in the first place was hard for her to accept, even this many years later. “I'm sorry but that anecdote requires a strong glass of whisky to be told on... Preferably two glasses.” She finally replied with a stiff apologetic smile, nowhere near reaching her eyes before turning her head forward and looking down the street.
“Boreddom? I don't know why, but after I left my ex-husband I just felt as if every day was the same? It might sound crazy, but I needed to find myself again and for once just do what I found joy in." She frowned and tucked her shoulder a little, as she for the first time worded the reasons behind why carrier change “It has never been about the money or feeling the lust from men and women. It's about being present, feeling myself, and getting out of my own head.” With preparation at being met with nothing more than absolute condemnation, Mazikeen turned her head his way. She didn't expect him to understand.

“And yet here we are, an angel and a demon almost holding hands.” She taunted, giving his arm a playful pinch. Almost about to let a burst of airy laughter out, before shaking her head, only but regret it immediately and clenching firmly at the arm “So Michael, son of God, and a friend of the police department, what are you telling them? That you're some sort of international spy?”.



 // Beklager det langsomlige svar - hvis du syntes det er helt håbløst på engelsk, så prik endelig til mig! Så går jeg tilbage på dansk, hvis du foretrækker det  

He didn’t comment on her sensibility. He viewed it as a statement of facts. They both knew that’s how it would end. He followed her gaze to the stars above. He had all of Heaven behind him, so even if she was the one to end him, she’d soon meet her demise as thousands of angels would be looking to avenge his death. And even then, she’d first have to figure out a way to end him. He returned his eyes to her as she said she’d like to think she’d stand her ground against him despite him being an ancient warrior. He liked that. It took courage to admit. His lips curved slightly as she finally showed appreciation for his actions that night. It was his job to help people. But it felt much better to do so if the person was thankful for it.
He nodded to her response regarding her time in Hell. He didn’t mean to pry. Nor would he have asked if it hadn’t been for his own personal experience. However, he understood why she wouldn’t want to share that with a stranger, so he left the questioning at that. “You’ve no reason to be sorry. I know how difficult it can be to talk about those things.” He looked at her again, wondering what she’d been through because surely they’d treat a demon much better than an archangel. There had to be something else to the story. Michael could only assume that she’d heard of the time where he’d been trapped in a cage in Hell himself. He was sure most demons had. They loved to taunt him with it. How he’d sacrificed himself in a deal to save someone he’d loved and how he’d spent two hundred Hell-years in torture before God finally saved him. He’d always figured that it was God’s way of punishing him for ever making such a deal in the first place. He was used to punishment and atonement for his faults. But that kind of suffering wasn't something he'd ever wish upon anyone.

He had a hard time understanding why someone would grow bored of their profession, much less one that had an impact on other people’s lives. But he also knew his profession was much unlike any other. And so was his sense of duty. It was no wonder that he didn't understand her situation. Of course, he had fantasized about a different life, but it had never been based on boredom. “There are many performance acts that will grant you that; the difference is just that their primary goal isn’t to promote lust,” he said, aware that she knew this. But it was what any old angel would tell her. She could induce inspiration and awe. Have people see her in a great show rather than in some lousy strip club. He understood that she might not care, or that she hadn’t been able to find another job. But he’d still never understand why a woman in this age and time would sink to that.   

“I wouldn’t go so far,” he said as he first glanced to his arm and then raised his eyes to her face with a glint of amusement in them. They had practically embraced earlier. A scene that would have looked incredibly wrong for the outside angel or demon. But he’d only done it in good faith. He believed that he was meant to find her and help her tonight. He believed that was the reason he’d heard her scream. Besides, he’d lived long enough on Earth to know that not all people were evil despite their inherent darkness. And he simply didn’t have time to pursue each unholy creature. He looked ahead of them again as she asked him a question. The houses starting to look more suburban as they neared her neighborhood. “It depends. Most of the time I’ll have a contact who’ll put in a word for me, other times I already have a reputation as a detective or agent in a bureau or the respective countries. It might not be completely truthful, but I can't very well reveal my identity to everyone,” he replied. He knew that it sounded unscrupulous, but as an immortal being you were often forced to bend the rules. And no such formalities should stand in the way of his missions, so he'd easily justified it. “How are you holding up?” he asked as he looked towards the arm she'd tightened her grip around a few moments earlier, indicating that the pain or dizziness hadn't diminished much.

//Helt okay! For min skyld kan du sagtens fortsætte på engelsk, men skift endelig hvis du har nemmere og hurtigere ved at svare på dansk.

Mazikeen wasn't too astonished by the comprehension. It would've been easy to brush it off as one of the many angelic traits, but she knew better. Knew where the understanding came from because she too, like most demons, had once loved to hear the tales about one of God's favorites hellbound and tormented, in what at the time must have felt like an eternity. Still, she ended up replying with a soft “Thank you.” grateful for the lack of further questioning.

“Your age is showing.” She quipped with glinting eyes, clearly not taking his disapproval to heavy-hearted after all, he did have a point. There were other ways not involving the lack of clothing. “Hornestly, I did once consider acting, but I'm an awful actress outside of a courtroom and I could not sing, even if my life depended on it.” It was a bit of an exaggeration without truly being a lie. Careful not to sound too safeguarding or sacred Mazikeen particularised “It wouldn't be that much of a difference from what I do now. Sex sells, whether that be on a stage singing, dancing, or in front of a camera acting, or modeling. At least what I'm doing is more transparent about it.” She was no saint and saw no point in trying to portray herself that way. It was nothing no more than the naked truth of the mortal world.

The head tilted ever so slightly while listing “And what about do you? Do you track down and arrest any criminals or just the immortal ones?” She wanted to know. A brow raised, a little imprest but mostly curious. She couldn't help but smile a little at his concern  “Would you believe me if I said I was fine?” She asked without giving him much time to respond. Even if he had been foolish enough to believe it true, he had still felt the tightening of her grip “I'm fine, really. As long as I keep from sudden movements.” She quickly assured. Only slightly annoyed by herself the hold on the arm began to loosen, as they reached the front door. He had to think of her as the weakest of demons, at this point

“Ah, but with age comes wisdom.” His eyes twinkled with amusement as he glanced at her, illuminated by a passing streetlamp above them. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d heard someone hint at that, even if he never considered himself stuck in a particular time—always trying to stay somewhat up to date regarding earthly inventions and cultural trends. It didn’t necessarily mean he agreed with them, but for the most part, it meant he wasn’t completely clueless whenever they were mentioned. Besides, his true feeling of self and home was in Heaven. A place much unlike this.

He tilted his head slightly as he looked at her, trying to decipher whether she told the whole truth. But it appeared that way. And he supposed he didn’t have any reason to believe she didn’t enjoy that type of work. That a demon like her was free from moral constraints, and thus didn’t see anything wrong with it. He turned his gaze to look ahead of them. “And I’m guessing it’s easier to take souls that way.” A spiteful assumption, but nonetheless, it had to be part of the reason she was drawn to her job. If she’d first lured her victims to the point of a kiss, they’d be at her mercy. He naturally resented it when souls were taken before their time, and especially when that soul righteously belonged to Heaven. But he couldn’t exactly blame the individual demon for the way they were created. Even if he wished they’d all stay in Hell because it contained their corruption and kept the outside world clean from it.

“I was sent on Earth to fight evil and protect those who aren’t. For the most part, I pursue the worst of them, those too powerful for any ordinary person to defeat. So no, I don’t waste my time with petty criminals. Or mortals⁠, for that matter. Not aside from their protection.” He wondered if she thought he’d have time to act as a regular police officer—if that was how little she knew of the archangels. Or if she’d asked because she altogether was curious to hear more about him. About the things, she wouldn’t hear from fellow demons. Most of the time, he only got into those circles to help human officers fight supernatural criminals, or handle greater criminal organizations run by supernatural beings. The only time he interfered more with mortals was regarding warfare. Being the archangel of war, he was obliged to support humanity through that to minimize losses and the traumas that inevitably followed. To offer them safety and bravery when they needed it the most.

He hadn’t just asked to know if she was holding up with her physical injuries. It was just as much regarding how the incident had affected her mentally. But if she said she was fine, he knew that meant she was fine enough, and that was all the assurance he needed. “You should take things slow for some time then.” He lowered his arm as she loosened her grip, hoping she was right about her statement. Only imagining how such an incident could affect someone. How she had to have many experiences like it with the kind of immoral beings that had to be visiting her place of work. Even if she was a demon, who under normal circumstances, surely could defend herself. Except for this time when she’d been caught off guard by someone. So, he’d linger by the front door until she’d gone inside and he knew that she was going to be safe.

Mazikeen had let out a low humming sound, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with him. He was right tho. In most cases, wisdom did indeed come with age, but that didn't mean having the right judiciousness did as well.

No matter how well-mannered and kindhearted he presented himself, he was still an angel, and thus the prejudices would never stop existing. She should've predicted the sharp-tongued assumption, but still, it felt as if he had just slapped her crossed the face, making her almost come to a halt with a slightly open mouth, and her eyes widened in an honest reaction. Did he believe demons didn't have any form of self-control when it came to feeding? At that thought, a pleasant smile broke quietly over her lips. No, he had to know better.
“It is.” She acknowledged with a small nod before proceeding, “But I'm sorry to disrupt your view on demons. I've never, not even once, taken advance of my profession and taken a customer's soul.” There had been plenty of opportunities for her to do so over the years, but not once had Mazikeen grabbed the chance, in or out of work. Death guest didn't exactly pay the rent. Not that she needed the money, but it was a principle; you don't shit where you eat.

Listing thoughtfully, Mazikeen drew her brow together. She hadn't asked out of pure ignorance. I didn't believe archangels had the time or the desire to roam around and play pretend cop. However, she was genuinely curious to learn more about him even though an inherent part of her detested it.
“And yet you never grow tired of protecting humankind? Don't get me wrong, I know, as an archangel, it is properly just as a profoundly part of you as breathing is for any humans, but have you ever considered if it's worth it? I mean, it's not as if the world had changed for the better.” Mazikeen asked, meeting his eyes. She wouldn't blame him if he, throughout the years, had had doubts. Increasingly more earthlings did behave as spawns of the devil instead of living a moral, responsible life even without the influence of dark creatures.

Searching the pockets for the key, the corner of her lip rose “I'll try.” She declared, not about to give any promises away she might not keep.
She inserted the key into the lock at the threshold and turned until a low clicking noise sounded. Stalling with one hand on the doorknob, Mazikeen turned around to face him before kindly offering, “Do you want something to drink?”

He could sense that the presumption had hit somewhere beyond his intention of a snarky comeback or honest admittance. And although she agreed, she denied that it had played any part in her choice of career. He hadn’t expected that, and so even if he had his prejudices about demons, it did leave him with a slight regret of having said it. “I like it when my views on demons are disrupted.” Because it meant they weren’t all as corrupted as he had come to believe. It meant that some humanity had reached through to them, and if some could learn to live peacefully amongst others, that meant the potential for more to do the same. But if it was an illusion at best. A dream that’d never come true—hadn’t come close to it for all the eons he’d lived and fought against her kind.

And yet you never grow tired of protecting humankind? He looked up at the star-speckled sky as he considered her question. In some ways, it was tiring to have to sacrifice everything for his father’s causes. To never be able to rest or recover between fighting and witnessing horrific scenes, of losing loved ones and feeling like he’d failed them yet need to pretend that none of it fazed him. He always had to appear strong. It was undoubtedly a complex topic, albeit one he’d dwelled on more than most. “I do.” His eyes lowered to meet hers, getting the sense that she asked out of genuine curiosity rather than to question heaven’s mission. “But someone has to.” It was a very simplified answer, and it would never envelop everything, but it was part of the reason he didn’t let the tiredness get to him.
“Every day I strive to make the world better so that good may prevail. To me, that has always made it worth it. If the world becomes darker, it’s only going to make me want to fight more.” She might not see the changes he did. She might think the world had gotten worse. And it might very well have deteriorated. But he had to believe that his actions made a difference. He had to hold on to that in order to keep going. And even if he reached the bottom of a seemingly bottomless pit, he couldn’t just abandon his responsibilities and let those who depended on him down. He didn’t have it in him to give up. Nor was it God's intention to let him.
“Have you never wanted something so much that you would do almost anything to fight for it?” It might not be entirely comparable, but if she found the idea of him putting his life out there for others uncomprehensible, putting it into that perspective might help her understand it a little more.

His eyes studied hers as he tried to discern whether she offered him a drink because she felt like she owed him or if she said it because she wanted to keep their conversation going. A polite decline was on his tongue, knowing that he shouldn’t take her up on it regardless of her intention. But it was far from every day he had a chance to speak to a demon on these terms. And he certainly had no reason to believe she had an ulterior motive for asking. “Yeah, I’d like that.” His lips tilted slightly upwards before he took his fedora off, removing its shadow from his face before he’d follow her inside.

She appreciated he hadn't been apologetic, even when it had been clear that he subconscious had touched a nerve with his remark. And why would he be? Prejudice rarely emerged out of thin air. By default, most demons had a strong pull toward malice and tendencies to curse havoc for sheer fun. She had been no different centuries ago and could still struggle with herself if placed in the wrong crowd.

Free from the shadow of the fedora, Mazikeen dared to take a closer look at his face as his eyes sought the twinkly night sky. Wondering if it was the first time anybody genuinely had asked him such a question or if people just assumed and never cared to ask. The affirmation was still somewhat unexpected and made her eyes glimmer with a sincere acknowledgment as her gaze calmly met his. She could pretend to understand the burden he carried, but the truth was that it was hard to grasp when you had never been put in that kind of position yourself. But she did, to some degree, understand his assignment and its importance.
Have you never wanted something so much that you would do almost anything to fight for it? Contemplating, she turned her face away. A yes tickled at the tip of her tongue before being swallowed down. She had fought for her marriage, but in the same way, she had fought in the courtroom, driven more by not losing than by love and affection. It didn't compare to willingly putting your life on the line for others or your beliefs. “I thought I did, but no.” She admitted, letting her gaze wander back to him. “However, I hope to have a different answer someday.” With more to fight for than yourself, you had a responsibility to look beyond the tip of your nose, and even she couldn't deny how important that was in a world with other beings.

Predicting a dismissal, a gentle smile spread across her lips before entering the house with him at her tail.
The interior beamed with inspiration from modern dark academia with its high wall panels and gallery walls. It was furnished with deep jewel tones and different textured surfaces and decorated with books, plants, and other bigger and smaller trinkets.
“Her, let me take those.” She offered, gesturing at the headpiece and the coat once she had removed her jacket. “Oh, I forgot to ask how you feel about cats?” The question was barely spoken before the first creaking meowing sounded from the top of the stairs.

Michael had an idea as to what her answer alluded to. Love was a reason for many to fight. But he couldn’t pretend to know what she was thinking, nor what she’d been through in life. “I’m sure you will,” he said as he looked at her. If she hoped for something strongly enough, he was certain it would come true. Based on her statement, he also knew that she didn’t have any children. Most would do whatever it took to fight for those, viewing them as more important than their own existence. Still, he wondered what someone like her dreamt of. If power and money tug at her far more than love ever could. It would certainly fit in with most of the demons he knew.

Stepping into her home, his gaze scanned the interior and settled on a painting in the entryway. Admiring the art. He handed her his jacket and hat, running a flat palm across his hair to make sure the pomade had stayed in place. “How long have you lived here?” In this house. In Gaia. At least, it seemed as if she was from a foreign country or had traveled the world before settling here. Not just because of her exotic features, but because she seemed to have lived a longer life than most.
At the mention of cats, his eyes automatically found one at the top of the staircase as it made its presence known. In truth, he didn’t feel strongly about any pets. But that didn’t mean he didn’t view them with fondness or understood why many sought their companionship. “Good,” he replied, a faint smile appearing on his lips, and if the cat would descend to greet him, he’d lean down to caress its back. With his regenerative healing, he couldn’t be influenced by human-related conditions such as allergies. Nor did he harbor fear for any animals. Much less any of the monsters he faced daily. “Are you still up for those glasses of whiskey?” he asked, still intrigued to hear about the anecdote of her time in Hell. But he’d also understand if she preferred to keep it to herself. Understood why she might not want to share that story with an archangel. It was just an incredibly rare insight—how they treated each other in that place. One you never really got unless you got close to a demon.