louds | duplicitynet

Okay, that's good.
Um, lock the door if you haven't already I guess? I'm coming back.

a locked door wouldn't keep him out but okay
sorry

It's okay just, you know. Be careful. If there's some satan freak going around attacking people that's pretty concerning.

i'm not lying
i stabbed him in the goddamn eye
he laughed
didn't even bleed

I believe you. Do you think he's going to come back?

maybe?

( god. fuck. he hadn't even gotten that far. the asshole seemed awfully amused at sam's--existence, his fucked up life, the shitty deformities life stuck him with. )

i'll leave

Please don't.

he only gives a shit because he thinks my existence is hilarious
if i'm not around, he won't come back to your place

If you ditch I'm going to come looking for you, and I really don't want to do that in this weather.

fine

Thank you, I'm on my way. Is Henry around?

no

( good thing, too.

he'd have hated for henry to get involved in that mess. )

Did any of his stuff get caught in the crossfire?

i don't think so
but tbh i kinda blacked out for a minute
the couch, the lamp next to the couch, and the sword
that's it

( oh no, she liked that lamp. )

Okay, I'm five minutes away. Don't attack me when I come in or anything like that, I'm not Satan.

i'm good

( it's closer to seven minutes before he'll hear the rattle of blue's keys in the door, and she's only thinly masking concern when she walks in. she's gotten better at rolling with the weird here, but it's not every day that your new housemate sends you a message claiming they fought satan in your apartment. she looks around the room briefly before she spots sam — and the couch, but she walks up to him first. )

Are you sure you're okay?

( he's sitting on the floor, in a corner, back pressed up against the walls. knees pulled up to his chest to make himself as absolutely small as he can possibly get--and there's. little spots of dried blood along his pants in the same spaces of small breaks in fabric and over his arms but there's no open wounds on him. nothing that looks like he's currently wounded. any wounds on him have healed, sealed up and left behind small scars that'll heal over into clear skin in the next several weeks.

so nothing major, at least. )

'm good. ( a slow breath in, which sam holds for a few moments before he lets it out of his mouth. his eyes close, head tipping back to rest against the wall. ) He just wanted to piss me off, not hurt me.

( one of the back cushions on the couch has been ripped off. there's no sign of the sword. the lamp is back on the stand beside the couch, but it--impacted with satan's hand when he caught it, so it's a little worse for wear. )

( she's tempted to point out that sam doesn't look particularly good, but she bites her tongue. an unusual habit for blue, but it doesn't feel particularly helpful right now. instead she shifts her weight, getting a good look at the room. the couch is...probably too difficult to repair, but there's no walls caved in, no destroyed piles of furniture. it could be a hell of a lot worse.

blue squats down in front of him, and after a moment reaches out for his arm, to push the sleeve up. just to see for herself. )

Why did your uncle want to make you so mad? Is he....literally Satan?

( sam rolls his eyes, but he lets blue grab for him, lets her push up his sleeves. there's a few bite marks and scratches lining his skin, but they're--self inflicted, nothing satan did to him. sam has a shit temper, a shit time keeping a lid on it, he didn't want blue or henry returning when he was still fuming and wanting to break shit.

that's never a good mix. but the bit of pain is--grounding. and sam heals fast enough he doesn't think any of it fucking matters anyway. )

Didn't ask. And he's not--not one of 'em from where I come from. ( far as sam can tell, he doesn't really have a nose for that shit. ) He said he's Satan, and I don't know why he'd fucking lie about it. He's definitely an angel of some kind.

( there's nothing that blue can do with the injuries that are left — and from what sam has already said it seems fairly clear that he can heal from it all with time — but that doesn't exactly relieve any of her concern. sam is...new to blue's life, but as it turns out, she's learning that she cares quite a bit about what happens to him.

but it's not like there's anything practical she can do right now, so instead she just shifts. sits on the floor in front of him, and pulls her knees up to her chest. not hunched and small like the way sam is huddled, but mirroring the pose a little. )

Sounds like a shit guy. Do you think he's going to come back for you?

( god, don't do that. don't copy him. it makes sam all too aware of how he's shoved himself into a corner, and instead of just sitting here continuing to ball himself up, he starts to relax a bit. stretches out his legs a little, sits up a little straighter. never quite straight, because he's always a slouchy motherfucker.

but a little closer. )

We're all toys to assholes like that. He'll do whatever he thinks is most entertaining. ( sam has some experience in this field, although none with an actual goddamn angel. ) And I'm the idiot who ( and in the most obnoxious cowboyish accent he can possibly muster: ) 'bout damned turned him on so I did a real shit job of discouraging him.

It probably wasn't...the best idea, getting into a pissing match with Satan.

( the only benefit to the multiverse, really, is that blue doesn't have to examine her own feelings about deities and celestial beings at all. it's fairly evident that blue and sam don't come from the same universe, and probably likely that this satan comes from somewhere else too. so if there's thoughts that she might have about the existence of angels — fallen or otherwise — blue doesn't have to actually examine them yet.

instead she just casts a sidelong glance at the couch, with the torn up cushions. it's probably not ideal having furniture torn up and damaged lamps, but they probably dodged a bullet. if a fallen angel came swanning into their apartment ready to goad a fight out of sam, a lot worse could have happened to the place— to him. blue could have come home. henry. )

I mean, I was already looking at a new place.

Sorry. ( that he broke her shit. that he started fights and caused problems. that he's like this, he can't fucking help it and it's a shit excuse and not one he'd ever actually. voice out loud. because what the hell kind of reason is that? sorry, i've got a crap temper, so you're just going to have to deal with me being a piece of shit every once in a while who starts crap. no. it's not on everyone else to just fucking work around him, it's on him to figure out how to work around himself.

sam at least--definitely looks remorseful. now that blue's here to assess the damage, he's a lot less pissed at himself and at satan and more upset that he was an idiot and wrecked shit. )

If he comes back, I'll try and keep it out of the house.

At the risk of sounding lame, I do care a little more about the wellbeing of people than I do the furniture that came free with the apartment.

( it's framed as a light nudge towards a joke, with a slightly amused lilt to her voice even if blue's expression is still wrapped up in a state of concerned and trying not to look it. she stretches out one of her legs, knocks the edge of her toe against the side of his legs — and she's even wearing her shoes still, it had been a pretty speedy entrance after all. )

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cw: mild self harm

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