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“Well, an angel’s wings are… sensitive. You of all people should know that.” Sweat trickled down his neck in anticipation, the small, humid room adding to the feeling of despair in his gut. Concrete bricks surrounded him, trapping him in a foolproof cage with the other.
“What dae ye mean, ‘me of all people’? Ye think I’ve interacted with an angel before?” This question prompted a chuckle from the other, eyeblack clouding his face as he leaned over. Hands reached up, scratching the back of his neck in anxiety. Sweat gathered under his fingernails.
Ghost, on the other hand, was calm. He eventually sat up straight again, leaned forward as if to catch Soap’s every breath. His strong, defined hands were neatly folded in his lap, the definition of cautious and formal. It was frightening.
“I wouldn’t suggest such a thing. You know the dangers of being acquainted with such a powerful being. What they could do.” It was said with a lilt of tease, like Ghost knew something Soap didn’t know he did. Like he knew something Soap didn’t want him to. “Or how they would tempt you?”
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Or, Soap is an angel in hiding, and Ghost helps him... relieve some tension. -
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