realityshifted

[Heero is once again at the bar, but this time he's not trying to drink himself into oblivion. That hadn't worked out as well has he had hoped, leaving with a rather nasty hangover. While there is a bottle of opened vodka on the counter, he's not drinking it.

Instead he's using it to disinfect a shrapnel wound to his upper arm. The left one again, right under a nearly healed gun shot wound. It seemed as though every time he stepped foot onto Duo's reality he somehow managed to take a hit to the arm. One of these days he was going to come back to the plane missing an arm. The thought had him slightly amused. How would he explain that one back home?

Dabbing the wound with a cotton ball gently, he set it down once he was finished and reached for the suture kit. Yes, he was going to actually do this to himself, in the open for all to see. Not that it bothered him or anything. The bar happened to be the most convenient place to do this. Vodka made a wonderful disinfectant and was readily available so there was no need to head home and grab the proper cleaner.

Grabbing the already opened kit he set to work. The most impressive part was the fact he was hardly making a face while doing it.]

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I don't need your help.

Is that help in general, of just from me specifically?

In general.

Meanwhile you're sewing your arm up like an idiot.

I've been trained to do it properly. [He'd rather do that than find help thank you very much.]

[This isn't finding help. This is help right here. Being offered. If not mostly because she hates seeing people bleeding.]

Yes, but you're bleeding everywhere.

[Still doesn't matter. He doesn't like getting help unless it's forced on him or he's unconscious.]

I'll clean it up.

That... That's not the point. Ugh, you know what? Screw your permission.

[She roughly grabs his arm to pull it close and runs a thumb over the wound. It (and the stitching) disappear as if the injury never happened. She lets him go and makes a face at the blood on her hands, immediately going to wash it off. She definitely looks a bit green at the gills now.]

That's better.

[Served her right for interfering like that.]

It was fine before. [No sense of manners at all. Looking away from her, he started packing up his supplies.]

No, it was not. Don't you think I've seen enough of blood with all the water of my world having been turned to it?

[He shot her a look.]

How was I supposed to know that?

[Frown.] No, I suppose you wouldn't.

Look, I never much cared for the sight of blood before my world went to shit.

You didn't have to look.

[A pause.]

So what are you?

Right to the point, aren't we?

[She tilts down her shades, revealing her yellow snake eyes.]

I'm a demon.

[It's not all that surprising, or rather he doesn't show it in any way.]

Why do you ask?

You have healing ability.

Well... You don't seem too surprised that I'm a demon. Wouldn't you be more inclined to believe I'm an angel?

No. I don't imagine an angel looking the way you do.

An angel could look like this if they wanted.

[But no, she couldn't imagine Aziraphale in anything different from what she wore normally (aside from tailoring) if he was a woman, regardless of the curves Crowley just knew he'd have like that.]

Then what separates you from angels?

Er... Most of us demons fell. Not all demons fell, mind. One just hung with the wrong crowd. Though I suppose the most telling detail is that angels tend to do good and demons tend to do evil.

And you're different from the other demons. [Healing was a far cry from being evil.]

Er... Well... I'm really only different because I spend all my time on Earth, among people...

[In his world, all demons are capable of healing. After all, they all were angels once. And because of his Arrangement with Aziraphale, he tended to do more good than any demon would care to admit, including himself.]

Sure. [He had a feeling that wasn't the only reason she was different, but he didn't ask. It wasn't his business.]

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