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What do you think this Apocalypse is about? All that's happening, it's all just foreplay trying to get the hardy boys to let Michael and Lucifer slip into something more ... comfortable. Like, their bodies.

I had heard bits and pieces but I suppose they left out a few details. [He frowns, sitting down] And...does Claire know?

[He's almost afraid to ask.]

Well, hell, I thought so, but now I'm not so sure. [She's really visibly enjoying actually ... knowing this before someone.]

[He is silent for a minute or two before glancing at the bags she had been carrying.] What are those?

[Helloooooo, change of topic.]

Hexbags. They keep you safe from all kinds of things that go bump in the night. [quickly;] But, not angels. They won't hide you from them. Not these ones, anyway.

And why are you putting them in my apartment exactly?

Let me spell this out for you.

For angels to take a vessel, they need the person to say "yes." And, Lucifer wants your little girl's boyfriend bad. So bad, in fact, that he'd do whatever it takes to get him to say yes. You following? They're going to try to break him and you can bet your ass they're gonna use her to do it. See, she may be the energizer bunny now, but angels are pretty good at the whole ... screwing with people thing. Including what makes them special.

[He takes it all in, nodding slowly] I got it, thank you.

Good. I hate doing all the exposition, you'd think those idiots had never heard of a newsletter. [She holds out a hand, palm-up, waiting for him to hand over the first aid kit.] Now, if you don't mind?

Clearly that would be expecting too much. [He comments dryly, handing her the first aid kit] ...Do you need help with that?

Edited 2010-03-28 05:43 (UTC)

[She gives pause.] ... You'd help a demon?

Trust me, you're not the worse I've met. [He shrugs his jacket off, risng to his feet.]

... Well. Thanks, I guess. [She has that kind of 'you say that because you don't know me' voice but she's actually immensely flattered right now.] Then, sure, I could use a hand.

So, can I ask you a question? [He sits on the edge of the coffee table, rolling his sleeves up before he moves to look at the wound. Clearly, he's done this a few times before.]

It's not like I can stop you. [She watches him with a faint kind of interest. The wound overall looks pretty gross, because demons heal pretty quick but not properly. So it's kind of puffy and black. Mmm.] I think an honest answer's the least I owe you, though. [She wasn't going to explain what she owed him for though. She wasn't that soft.]

The whole eyes thing... [He's guessing that she's a demon because it's not that hard to figure out.] Why are you helping?

[He doesn't look at all bothered by the wound. Instead he focuses on getting what he'll need to dig the bullet out before he can stitch things up.] I'm sure you're aware this is going to hurt, right?

Edited 2010-03-28 14:00 (UTC)

[She gives a smarmy smile.] I've been through Hell, Bennet. Literally. A little pain never killed anyone. [The question makes her sigh a little, though.]

Do all of you have to ask me that? [Tentative pause. She finds a spot on the wall to stare at rather than looking at him.] A lot of demons lose their humanity in the Pit. All that pain, the torture, that's the point. It turns you into one of us. That's not how it is for me. I remember what being human's like. So, maybe I'm a little more ... sentimental.

Still figured you'd like a warning. [He's being polite, shh.]

I figure I can ask since I didn't know before. [He braces her before he starts to work on her shoulder. He listens to her quietly as he focuses on digging out the bullet slowly, using small movements as he doesn't want to make the hole too much bigger than before. He ignores the blood running down her arm because he'll give her a shirt later.]

[Dropping the bullet onto the table, he moves onto cleaning the wound.] So how hard is it to learn to be a hunter?

[She grits her teeth, looking away and clearly trying not to be an uke bitch about the pain.} God, it stings like a motherfucker. Every time. [She gives a hissed sound of relief when the bullet's out of her, because the cleaning stings a hell of a lot less in comparison.]

Not hard. There's a couple basics, but it's mostly experience -- why? You looking to sign up? Or, are you looking into it for lil' old Nancy Drew?

Sorry. [He mutters an apology when she complains]

No. I'd rather keep Claire out of this but it's clear she's not going to tell me anything. [He clenches his jaw because his life as a father is hard, okay? Cleaning the wound, he glances sideways at her.] I can't help her or any of them when I don't know what I'm going up against. So I would like to learn.

[The fact that he actually apologized for hurting her makes her pause and look around a little skittishly. God that was weird, he was treating her like a ... person.]

Kids, right? [She rolls her eyes exaggeratedly.] Can't live with him, can't continue the species without 'em. [At the request, she fixes her gaze on his, studying, scrutinizing.] Once you know what's out there, you can't turn back, you know that, right? It's not plane tickets and big guns and paper pushing like your apple pie middle class life. It's dirty and it's bloody and it doesn't end well. For anybody.

[He catches the fact that she's getting skittish and he arches a brow at her for it but says nothing. Some people just aren't used to kindness.]

Sometimes I wonder if that wouldn't be for the best. [The whole not continuing the species. Don't ask. As she scrutinizes him, he starts stitching the wound up.] I'm fine with dirty and bloody, and things not ending well. [He's been well trained for it after all.]

[She sets her jaw, trying not to cringe with each stitch. Hell really gives you a heck of a pain tolerance.]

Sounds like I've got something you want. How about I cut you a deal?

[Clearly. A lot of people he knows would be blubbering by now.]

What kind of deal?

[Oh, but that last one made her choke back a gasp. She swears under her breath, trying to keep that in-control smirk on her face, but it's obviously forced.]

The kind where you get something you want, and I get something I want. You're buddies with the Winchesters, right? They trust you?