Even the Wicked Need to Eat

The cab ride wouldn’t be very long and would be spent in quiet contemplation on both sides, neither particularly willing to open up with the cabbie present. And besides, Samael needed time to sort things out and wonder why he was here in the first place. This was definitely against standard operating procedures. Hell, he couldn’t even remember the time he last ate dinner with someone who wasn’t a mark to be punished.

He stared out the window at the approaching twilight and knew he wouldn’t be able to spend much more time here. He had a charity event to go to that evening and more sinners to root out. It would be a lot of work, especially if he tried to change up his tactics… Best not to mention it to… he didn’t even know Devon’s name yet. He’d have to remedy that soon.

Eventually they would arrive and Samael would step out of the cab. They were at Black & Orange, a rather standard looking burger place with wooden chairs and harsh lighting. But the smell wafting out was pure deliciousness that called to them both. Samael leaned over and paid the cabbie while he waited for Devon to join him and once he did and the cab drove off, he offered a hand to Devon.

“I’m Samael, by the way.”

Silence couldn’t prevail in the cab as Devon’s right leg bounced up and down against the door, creating that soft sound of friction and faintest tapping. He didn’t know what he was thinking, climbing into the cab with this lunatic. Was he that hungry? Was he really hoping that something good would come out of this ruined afternoon?

He exited the cab and walked quickly onto the sidewalk, rising up and down on tip toes as he waited for Samael to pay. His hoodie was still up but the evening lights still glinted along the lapis of his irises. Washington D.C. had a funny kind of charm at night. It wasn’s still but it wasn’t bustling; it was busy like the wrapping of gifts on Christmas Eve. All was quiet outside but under the surface, so much was happening.

“Hey,” Devon said, taking the hand offered. His handshake wasn’t limp but he put little strength in the squeeze as he shook Samael’s. “Devon. Thanks for,” he nodded toward the cab.

Inside they went, Devon bobbing back and forth to the quiet music playing overhead as they waited for a table. Samael asked for one in the back, still illuminated though spared the brightest of the restaurant’s worse lights. Devon took down his hoodie revealing the mop of black curls and waves. He often hoped he could one day fly over the dark seas.

They took their seat and went over the menu, a waitress bringing over waters and their beverages. Devon ordered a bacon cheeseburger with mushrooms, steak fries and onion rooms. The chocolate milkshake was for the meal, not before. He liked to dip his fries.

A hand took up the knife from his place setting after they’d ordered. He twirled it over his fingers and leapt at the chance to speak once the waitress had gone. “How long you been doing this? A long time? It seems like you’re not used to talking to people… normally,” Devon smirked.

((OOC:
Bipolar Disorder: Manic state.
No percentage chances necessary at this time. ))

Samael had noticed Devon’s odd fidgety mood, the leg tapping, the head bobbing and everything else. It was like Devon was almost an entirely different person than before. It was… very different and Samael was pretty sure he preferred this version to the sulky version. Kind of, anyways. This version he knew less how to deal with, but it was also probably more prone to talk.

They found their booth and were both lost in the menus for a few moments before ordering – Samael went a basic cheeseburger, sauce only, and a side salad with fat free ranch.

Again, Devon surprised him with how eager he was to speak once the waitress was gone, immediately asking how long he had been doing this. Samael had to ponder it for a few moments before answering quietly so others couldn’t hear, “How long? It depends on which part you mean. My… stuff… manifested early, but only basic things. In fact that’s all I had for a long time until very recently. If you mean my particular extracurricular hobby, I’ve been doing it for about 7 years. Mostly it has been… doing what you said earlier. I catch them in the act. Sometimes punish and let go, sometimes send them on to the authorities…” He trailed off. Sometimes they didn’t deserve to live. But he didn’t need to mention that.

Their drinks arrived – a diet coke for Samael – and he waited for the waitress to leave again before looking back to Devon, “How long have you been… doing whatever it is you do?”

The stale state of Samael's order didn't surprise Devon, considering he found the purity of a sanctatmonious individual to mean they put on airs of purity and good health.  They were clean, ever polite, ate well and always did the right thing.  Except for behind closed doors where they mentally attacked people and probably had some other dirty desires they rarely shared.  Basically, Devon knew he was sitting across from a freak and he was okay with it.  That didn't mean he couldn't enjoy his dinner.

"Thanks again," Devon said first, completely unrelated to the current topic save for the one in his head.  He sipped at his water.  "You've been at this a while then.  Wow, seven years.  I've been out for about three, though I don't really have a doing other than a sort of be out there and do whatever plan."  He shrugged his shoulder.

The waitress dropped off their drinks and Devon's side order of onion rings.  He grinned up to her and she smiled back before departing.  Without delay Devon picked up an o-ring, crinkled it together and slid it into his mouth.  His smile spoke volumes for the taste.  It didn't cause him to pause long, however.

"I do the same things though, well maybe a little different.  I typically follow people out on their own at night, people I'm worried might get attacked or something.  Then if someone does, I make sure they stop and the person can get away, call cops, whatever.  You know how breezy it gets at night in dark alleys?" Devon asked with a grin.  "Really windy.  Really, very windy."  He chuckled.

"So seven years?  How old are you then?  You act like you think you should be older."

((OOC:
Bipolar Disorder: Manic state.
No percentage chances necessary at this time. ))

Devon’s fully changed attitude made Samael smile a little once again, a close mouth almost awkward kind of a smile, but a genuine one. He listened as Devon spoke about how long Samael had been doing this and even Samael was kind of surprised – he’d never really realized how early he had started this, or how long he’d been at it, or if it would ever end.

He took a long drink of his coke and watched as Devon fully enjoyed his onion rings. The guy took such great delight in little things that it made him seem almost kid-like at times. He was surprised to learn that Devon was apparently a bit of a vigilante, too, though perhaps a… less effective kind. At least to Samael’s way of thinking. The tale of how windy it could get in a dark alley did make him smile, though. Still, without the guys actually getting caught, Samael was pretty sure they just went back to their wicked ways later the same evening or soon after.

A nod was the answer to Devon’s first question, “Yeah, about 7 anyways. Sometimes it feels like longer.” He wasn’t really sure what Devon meant about thinking he should be older, so he just raised his eyebrows, “Some of us grow up faster than others I guess.”

Devon continued munching on the onion rings, sipping occasionally on his water. He was hungrier than he realized. Had he had lunch? No, and breakfast had been a cereal bar from a concession stand down the street from the YMCA. His sugar was probably pretty low. He’d have to get dessert.

Clearly Samael wouldn’t care. He seemed to be quietly appraising the conversation as it went along. Devon figured Samael simply didn’t care about the trivial matters of food and the cost of dinner tonight. How did he get his money anyway? Devon hoped he didn’t steal it from the people he mentally controlled. That would have been a further perversion.

He nearly choked on the onion ring he was eating though. His blue eyes widened suddenly. “What?” he said loudly. A few eyes went their way and Devon grimaced, pulling his head down. His voice quieted too, “You’re seven? That’s insane… I guess you aren’t normal at all then. That’s more than just growing up faster.”

Devon chuckled, blinking and shaking his head as if disbelief. “Well I’m 20. I grew up fast too, just not that fast. Were you always physically this age or did you have a short childhood or…?”

Was this guy an angel or a lab experiment? He hadn’t expected anything this strange. Samael looked like a twenty-something but maybe someone had grown him. There’s no way he just appeared fully formed. Where were his wings then?

((OOC:
Bipolar Disorder: Manic state.
No percentage chances necessary at this time. ))

Devon really seemed to be tearing into the onion rings and Samael thought the poor guy must have really been hungry. He wondered if the poor thing had even eaten regularly with the way he was putting away food. For some reason he gave Samael that vibe of a high functioning homeless type, though he couldn’t imagine why that would actually be the case. Hell the guy could fall back on modeling.

Samael did let out a soft laugh when Devon said he thought that he was seven. What did Devon think he was? Some sort of creature that aged quickly? He listened to him and then just shook his head, “No, seven is the number of years that I told you I have been doing this, since I was fifteen, which makes me twenty-two.” Samael supposed he hadn’t been too clear about that.

About that time the waitress came and he went quiet as she dropped off their burgers, checking to see if they needed anything else. Samael just flashed her a smile and then looked back to Samael after she left, “Where did you grow up anyways?”

“Wait wait,” Devon said, holding up a hand as the waitress arrived. He shot her a grin, but smirked over at Samael. A bunch of fries disappeared into Devon’s mouth even as Samael tried to ask another question.

“So you aren’t seven… Okay, yeah I thought you were some freak creature hatched or put down on this planet,” Devon laughed and sucked on his milkshake. “Still, since you were fifteen? Got started a little earlier than me.” He nodded, bobbing his head slightly more than actually nodded.

“You have to be more clear. The way you act, anything’s possible,” Devon’s brow lifted as he smirked again. A bite of the burger went next with more fries and another gulp of milkshake. Devon was hungry.

“I’m from Cali. Yeah I’m a bit of a ways from home, but it’s hard to keep me down,” he laughed. “I was hanging in New York until recently… How’s your burger?” he asked only incidentally interested. “Mine’s great thanks. It’s the bacon. Fries are good too. You ever dip fries in a milkshake?”

Devon lifted a fry ceremoniously and then dunked it into the chocolately goodness of his ice cream concoction. “It’s absolutely sinful but I promise I won’t go crazy telepath on you for it,” he grinned mischievously. “It’s worth it though.”

More onion rings went into his mouth.

“You’ve really been doing that to people for seven years? I’m surprised no one else has come down on you yet,” Devon said with a half-frown. “You have to be more careful.”

((OOC:
Bipolar Disorder: Manic state.
No percentage chances necessary at this time. ))

Samael chuckled slightly as Devon held his hands up, finally coming to an understanding about age and how long he had been at all of this. Also at the zeal with which Devon ate. It was almost Gluttonous, but he supposed that Devon was probably hungry and maybe didn’t get full meals all the time, so maybe it was okay and not overly sinful.

He smiled and nodded when Devon reiterated that Samael was only 15 when he started, “Yes, that was the first time I caught someone in the act, so to speak. Sometimes in the Church, it is said that one receives their ‘Call’. That was when I received mine.”

As Devon spoke some more, Samael reached down and picked up his burger, carefully taking a bite and setting it back down as he chewed and listened. He wasn’t entirely surprised that Devon was from California, his laid back attitude spoke volumes. Samael watched curiously as Devon dunked his fries in the milkshake and he seemed a little confused by it, “That seems… an odd combination.”

Devon made light of Samael’s telepathy, and that spoke volumes for how much more at ease the guy was than before.

“Yes, for seven years I’ve been doing this. And generally I am more careful,” he said, “This was… a little new. I haven’t refined it quite yet, and I admit I let my emotions get the better of me after what I saw.”

“Now there I can understand,” Devon nodded slowly. “You let your emotions take ahold of you and who knows what you’ll do. Can get… bad,” he said with another slow nod. “I’m glad I found you then. No simple coincidence I don’t think.”

Devon didn’t like rapists. No one did. He didn’t like how easily they could get away with it. He didn’t like Jason or what he’d done. He wasn’t a fan of rules or nonsense laws. He didn’t like people who used the system. But when he felt something was wrong, deep down inside his gut, he wasn’t going to be quiet.

“I’m sorry if I came off as brash but you were being a dick,” he said with an easy tone. “That whole things was nuts. Gotta find a better way to approach that. Not saying I know what it is, but damn,” Devon grimaced.

He pushed his plate of fries forward and then pushed the milkshake a few inches across the table. “Try it. It’s good. I promise it won’t condemn you to hell or anything,” the blue eyes rolled.

“That’s great about the church I guess. I can’t stand them. Give me open air, green hills and blue sky. I like sunshine and starlight, playful breezes and all the land around me,” Devon waxed a bit poetic. His foot was tapping underneath the table. Even Devon was starting to realize he was having a mood.

What had set him off? He was nervous. He didn’t know this guy and he wasn’t sure how to handle it all. He was hungry, yes, but it wasn’t the need or promise of food. It was this chance encounter where someone didn’t quite have their head on right. Devon wanted to help; he just wasn’t sure how.

“Look, I don’t want to keep sounding like a jerk,” Devon said plainly. He was trying to concentrate and focus on what he was saying. “I just… I just think you have to be careful for a lot of reason, for yourself and others. I don’t know how things are supposed to be, but I know it’s not right how things are going. I try to protect people when I can… But I guess I’m realizing I need to figure myself out first. Maybe you do too.”

Blue eyes held Samael’s for a moment. Then Devon sighed and jabbed another French fry in his shake. He threw it in his mouth and grinned.

((OOC:
Bipolar Disorder: Manic state.
No percentage chances necessary at this time. ))

Devon was definitely somewhat right, sometimes Samael’s emotions did take control. It had resulted in perhaps worse beatings than necessary, or worse – though he felt justified in most of those cases, the people brought it on themselves and being left alive at all was a mercy.

He wasn’t surprised that Devon said he was a dick, not many understood his work and fewer still understood the necessity of it. Somebody had to be the one to punish – because nobody else was. Slaps on the wrist from the law, sometimes the law unable to do anything because there was no evidence. It was all disgusting. That was what was wrong, not Samael’s actions. But, again, he didn’t expect most people to see that and it was a thankless job.

“Churches are nice,” he said in response to Devon’s opinion, “They can be quiet, or loud, full of joy, usually peaceful. A great place to reflect or to learn.” He eyed, almost warily, the milkshake and fries that had been pushed forward, like they might leap up at him or something. But with graceful fingers he reached out and nabbed a fry, tipping just the tip into the shake before pulling it back to pop it into his mouth as he listened to Devon some more.

“I do try to be careful,” he said, “Generally there is nothing to link them to me. I was sloppy earlier, it doesn’t normally happen.” Samael would have to make sure of that. His punishment would be great. He met Devon’s gaze curiously, peering into the blue eyes until Devon broke the contact.

Then, after taking another careful bite of his burger, he shrugged slightly and smiled at Devon’s antics, “I’m glad you’re less moody than you were earlier.”

Devon laughed loudly at Samael’s comment. “Well excuse me. You were a little moody yourself. Well I shouldn’t say moody. Maybe righteously flippant and arrogant,” the blue eyed mood ring replied. “We all got our issues but I’m trying to learn here.”

“Besides, I’m bipolar,” he explained with a shrug of his shoulder. “I can’t let it keep me from my life and I won’t. But seeing as how my powers are influenced by emotions… It can get crazy,” he laughed. “I didn’t even do what I did back at the library on purpose. You know? It can get… Wow. Really.”

He would have frowned if he weren’t feeling so upset. So instead he reached for his milkshake, downing a large gulp before taking another bite of his burger. “I don’t like the churches. Too unnatural and I’m afraid the roof would blow off, not that I worry about lightning striking me for entering,” he grinned while tapping a hand against his chest.

“Everyone finds peace in different ways. Mine isn’t for most people,” he chuckled. “You’re way too…” He paused and then waved a hand, gesturing to all of Samael. “That for it anyway. I do think it’s funny you’re all about control but then so in danger of losing it you have to constrict yourself. That’s not control, that’s limiting. I’m not big on limiting.”

He sighed almost immediately, “Not that I think people should be allowed to do whatever they want. I am glad that kid got caught…” He frowned now, glancing down at his burger. “I just worry what will happen if I get too angry with someone like that… I don’t think I could handle what you see,” he shook his head.

As if to soothe his sad state, Devon went again for his milk shake.

“Oh and I had gone to the library to learn, remember? Some preachy know-it-all ruined my reading. You going to go back there tonight? I still want to read up on a few things,” Devon’s voice trailed off. “But I heard about that party.”

((OOC:
Bipolar Disorder: Manic state.
No percentage chances necessary at this time. ))

Samael raised an eyebrow at being called righteously flippant and arrogant. Then he shrugged as if he agreed and didn’t care. He wasn’t overly prideful, not too sinful there. And he was doing God’s work. He had the right to be strong in his convictions and zealous in their application if he wanted to.

Devon’s casual offering that the guy was bipolar was surprising – not that he was bipolar just that he so casually mentioned it. He wondered what the inside of his head looked like, but for now respected Devon’s privacy. It also explained the wind outside the library – Devon hadn’t been making a statement, the wind had just been reacting to his emotions. Interesting…

“I’m way too what?” he said with a smirk, “And I never claimed to be fully in control. Sometimes I can get a little zealous, sure, but as long as I’m careful… well, being zealous and doing god’s work go hand in hand.”

Devon said he was worried about what would happen if he got too angry with someone like that and Samael took a bite of his salad, swallowing before he spoke. “Sometimes that can be a problem, sometimes making sure they’re punished can also be a problem. There are times when you know the justice system will not do its job to someone who has raped repeatedly, or murdered. You know they may do it again. So what do you do then?” he cocked his head to the side at the last part, “It is not an easy decision, but luckily I have guidance.” He glanced upwards briefly and then shrugged again, “Indeed you are correct, you probably don’t want to see what I see. That part…. Is a new development, and it has been difficult to deal with.”

At the final question he shook his head, “No, not back to the library. There’s a charity event I’m most interested in attending.”

"Zealotry seems fine," Devon said conversationally, "As long as it doesn't go too far, becoming vengeance or revenge. You seem to have the right purpose behind it and all, but let's face it... Organized religion doesn't usually." He nodded with a frowning smirk. You just couldn't trust the church. Too many men had long corrupted much of its purpose; it was a political power game now.

He was quiet a while after Samael spoke of the problems of his work. Devon chewed his burger and fries, drank his water and slurped his milkshake in that time. He was reflecting on what Samael was saying through struggling to keep up with it all as his mind worked on his own thoughts. Tempest ran into problems too. Sometimes there were more than he was expecting. Sometimes someone got hurt. Yeah sometimes the trouble maker got away, but to Devon it was more about helping the possible victim and preventing it than it was harming anyone. He wasn't so sure he wanted Samael to be his judge and jury...

"Yeah punishment... You keep using that word. You really feel you're supposed to judge and punish people? It's a bit much to think your guidance is from on high right? Do you really hear in your head that you're doing the right things?" Devon queried. "God's never be known to interfere in mortals activities like that. I thought part of the whole deal was we were supposed to handle our own shit, cause either way we'd end up answering to him."

Devon chuckled briefly, "Unless we go back to the Old Testament Different story though, certainly. I'm just amazed you're so sure... so I expect there's something you're not telling me maybe? The voice of God reaching your thoughts every night?" He shrugged a shoulder, "Like I said, I don't know how I'd deal with it, but I don't think I'd be quite as sure as you really. What if someone put something in your head or make you think something about someone but it was a trick? I mean if you're just sending them to the cops to admit something... It could still get tricky I guess."

"But the charity thing," Devon's voice softened as he nodded, eyes wide. "Yeah I'd heard about that. I'm not invited and the cost.... Well I think I might try to get in once I'm done reading. Most places don't cover their roof top access too well. It'd be nice to see who's who going around that isn't obvious like the President," he grinned.

((OOC:
Bipolar Disorder: Manic state.
No percentage chances necessary at this time. ))

Samael watched Devon curiously as the guy talked about zealotry. It was interesting to hear how strong the convictions were of from this young man who might very well be homeless from the things he had said and way he had acted. He gently took another bite of his burger and then went for his salad, avoiding the croutons.

Devon question Samael’s crusade to punish the wicked, and even went so far as to basically ask if he was crazy and hearing the voices of God in his head. It was apparent to Samael that Devon simply didn’t understand Faith, or what a calling was. Priests did not speak directly to God, that did not mean the truly faithful ones did not receive guidance from him.

“It isn’t just the Old Testament,” he said, shaking his head slightly, “And no, I do not hear voices. That does not mean that I don’t receive guidance. You say poor things about the church, but do you believe out of all of the members of the clergy that none of them receive guidance from God? And yes, there is the possibility of my head could be toyed with, though not a very good one considering my own abilities.” He shrugged again and took a bit of his salad.

He listened as Devon spoke of the charity event. “I’m not invited either,” he said, “But luckily I’ve got a bit of a universal pass.” He grinned slightly, “Besides, these things… they’re full of people tr ying to feel better about themselves by pretending to help people. I think you’d hate it.”

“I believe that no one gets direct guidance from God,” Devon said flatly, milkshake in hand. “Maybe there are coincidences that aren’t quite or signs from above that wise people notice, but it’s a lot about trust and intuition. I can read the weather, but it doesn’t tell me on its own how it’s going to be.” He shrugged, “I know God isn’t the weather, but…”

“Oh that’s what I do,” Devon said proudly but distractedly. “I can control the weather.” He smiled slightly, “There’s a lot that’s possible but I think talking in definitives will get you in trouble more often than not. Presuming you know what is and how it should go is a bad idea, every time. So I’m glad you want to help, but I’d be careful with presumption.”

Devon inhaled and stuffed a few onion rings in his mouth next. He didn’t say anything while he chewed but he made eye contact and shrugged a couple times, trying to express his hesitancy. He knew he was probably speaking out of turn but they were having a talk right? This wasn’t about absolutes. Didn’t he just say absolutes were bad?

“I guess what matters is you want to do right. As long as you want to do good, that’s good, but you better be sure when you go as far as you do. You can’t just trust what you think you’ve been told or seen… Faith in God aside, these are real lives you’re affecting and it’s all bigger than just one person. Making that kid go confess to the cops will get all those girls contacted. They’ve got to deal with it again. It’ll bring up all sorts of questions and a whole train of people will be affected.”

He shrugged again, “And people try to feel good for helping all the time. What I’d hate is if they were doing it unethically, I guess.” A big grin crossed his face, “Besides I love pointing out when people are short sighted.”

((OOC:
Bipolar Disorder: Manic state.
No percentage chances necessary at this time. ))

“I suppose it depends on what you mean by direct,” Samael said in response to Devon’s disbelief, “Do you truly believe no one receives guidance? Feelings from a higher power that direct them on to certain paths? In a world like ours, with all of the strange things we see, you – who are in the middle of the weirdness – refuse to believe there may be higher beings than ourselves who offer guidance?” He chuckled, “Perhaps you should reevaluate things.”

Samael listened as Devon mentioned he could control the weather, and he nodded, again it made sense with what he had seen, “that’s an interesting one. You could cause a lot of trouble if you aren’t careful, I imagine, much like myself.”

He nodded again, “And yes, I do want to do right. There are right ways to act in this world, and that is why we have laws, but sometimes the laws and those that enforce them are wrong. Sometimes there needs to be other people to fill those gaps and to, well, police the protectors.”

He pondered for a few minutes as Devon spoke of how making the rapist turn himself in might affect the girls he had already raped, and he nodded, “Yes, I know, and it is something I have already thought about. Sadly, however, it is something they will have to simply deal with, as harsh as it sounds. They must, simply because not dealing with it may end up in more girls getting raped – would end up in more girls getting raped. We cannot let that happen just because we are afraid the ones who have already been victims will be uncomfortable, as callous as that sounds it is simply a necessity.” He smiled slightly, “I try to counteract that in some ways by making numerous charitable gifts to applicable charities on behalf of the sinners I appropriate funding from, based on their sins.”

“While you are pointing out people being short sighted, do not forget the mirror,” he said with a slight grin.

“This is called deflection,” Devon said with a cavalier tone. He gestured away from himself with a fry. “You briefly talk of yourself but always make witty comments directed at someone else. We ain’t talking about me there, you know.” He shook his head.

“The problem isn’t that the girls will have to deal with it. It’s that you’re making decisions for people and causing a series of chain reactions. I’d just be careful unless of course you can predict how all of that will go,” Devon shrugged before downing the fry.

“As for me,” Devon smirked. “I’m trying. I don’t have what you have, clearly, and until recently I had to worry… Well maybe I’ve got to worry more about what I’m doing,” he sighed. “Sometimes I have trouble when I can’t relax but I do get in some visits with my shrink.”

He shrugged and sipped at his milkshake. “It usually shows poorly on you if you have to deflect so as not to feel as bad about what’s going on you know,” Devon said matter-of-factly. “Problem is, it usually works.” Looking down at his half-eaten burger, Devon sighed again.

“You know it’s not like I want more girls getting raped,” Devon said, his voice deepening with a bite. “I’m just saying you need to think bigger. You know, a thunderstorm in one place could mean a tornado the next town over?” he asked with a pointed glare. “Stuff like that. Different, I know, but the idea’s the same.”

Another exasperated sigh left Devon’s lips, “Look, I’m just repeating myself. Yay for vigilante justice. Try not to fuck it up.” Blue eyes rolled as he looked over for the waitress. Meanwhile, he couldn’t forget or give up his milkshake even if he was suddenly feeling under the weather.

((OOC:
Bipolar Disorder: Depressive state, getting angry.
No percentage chances necessary at this time. ))

Samael chuckled slightly as Devon brought up deflection, “But is it you or I who is deflecting? I answered your questions, went into my reasonings and then questioned you. Maybe you are trying to deflect back on to me, hmm?” His smile remained as he took a big bite of his burger and carefully set it back down, wiping his hands on his napkin.

He grunted slightly and took a sip of his water as Devon said he needed to think bigger, “Perhaps I will now that things seem to be expanding. My abilities I mean. It might make it easier to take a little bit different approach. Maybe.” He shrugged a bit.

Devon’s final statement made him laugh softly, “I could say the same for you with that. Don’t accidentally blow someone’s head into a wall in an alley or something.” He shook his head, smiling again, “If you really are into this stuff, you should come to New York City. You’ll be busy all night.”

“You questioned me about what?” Devon asked with an annoyed glared, his voice betraying the same. “I haven’t tried not to answer you at all. Whatever,” he said with a small yawn. He picked up his burger and took a bite.

He chewed as Samael kept talking and when again the conversation was turned back to Devon, his blue eyes rolled. The burger went down and Devon smirked, “Yeah I know about being careful. I’m the one who brought it up, remember? And I’ll go back to New York City eventually, I like it there. Lots to do, no one sleeps…”

“I just don’t know when that’ll be. With all the negative attention people with powers are getting, I didn’t want to get caught up in the craziness of the city,” he explained with a fretted brow. “Everyone’s a mutant now. Even if you help, you might get blamed for something. That’s why I’m saying you have to be especially careful about what you cause. There are people out there doing whatever they want and it affects everything for everybody.”

Devon inhaled sharply, “People don’t understand how connected everything is. From my perspective, we all are. Besides, I might go check out Atlanta or Miami. I haven’t been down there in a while. I guess I could go to the upper Mid-West as I’ve never visited, but… I’d like to enjoy some warm weather. I don’t get looked at as funny for not being freezing there.”

Fries went into the milkshake again as he enjoyed the desert combination. “I want to get a better handle on things though. You’ve so nicely pointed out I need to,” another smirk joined his sarcastic tone. “I want to learn more and everything. I’m really into this stuff,” he repeated with a scowl.

((OOC:
Bipolar Disorder: Depressive state, getting angry.
No percentage chances necessary at this time. ))

Samael just shook his head a little at Devon’s first question – he hadn’t been deflecting, he had actually meant for Devon to respond in some way, but it really didn’t matter at this point, he could tell the whole subject was starting to bother the young man.

He nodded a little at the talk of negative attention, “Lots of negative attention. That’s why New York City is good – it is huge, massive population, easy to get lost and stay unnoticed in. And a lot less oversight than a place like this. Way less chance of getting noticed there for sure.” He shrugged.

“Maybe you should find safe places to practice,” he said as Devon said he wanted to learn more, “That’s what I do with my, well I guess you could call it TK if you follow the movies and books. I usually go where it won’t cause trouble if something goes wrong.” He laughed softly as Devon scowled at the end after saying he was really into this stuff, “Yes, you do seem really into it, but why does that seem to make you look so frustrated then? It is a good thing.”

He took a couple bites of his salad as he watched Devon go for his fries, shaking his head slightly with an amused smirk, “So where did you grow up?”

Devon bobbed his head side to side about New York City. Samael had a point, but Devon still didn’t like the possible response en masse that could erupt. New York City had seen its fair share of terrible tragedy and he wanted no further part of that. Worse still, he didn’t want to be blamed for it.

“I do need a better place to practice, but then again I can go where even few special people he can,” Devon said quietly, though he peered up. “It’s amazing, but it’s not the same as down here. You do get a certain perspective though. Everything sort of blends…” He swirled the straw in his milkshake.

“It’s all complicated, like home,” he said idly. “I told you California. I grew up outside San Francisco. Warm, warm days and beautiful nights. I left before I got to enjoy it as a so-called adult,” he smirked. “I miss the beach, the hills, the wooded parks. It’s a great place and with the schools, the culture…”

A sad sigh left his lips and he shrugged, “I’ll go back one day, when I’m ready, when things are better.” He nodded a few long affirmative nods, certainly glossing over the troubles of his youth. “When I’m more prepared, I guess. I want to be. I was reading at the library for that reason, like I said.”

“But uhm, I don’t know much about you. Were you born in a church or something?” he asked dubiously.

((OOC:
Bipolar Disorder: Depressive state..
No percentage chances necessary at this time. ))

Samael thought Devon would like New York, he seemed kind of… urban. Plus, oddly, he thought it’d be nice to have Devon nearby. It would be odd having someone to talk to regularly, it wasn’t something that he was used to. In fact, it wasn’t something he’d even really done in years except to fake people out.

He nodded in agreement about a better place to practice and flashed Devon a smile, “Flying is nice, isn’t it? Gets a bit cold for me up there though. Wonder if a shield keeping out the wind would make it a lot more bearable.” Probably would, in fact, make it a lot better. Wind chill was a bitch.

He listened as Devon talked about where he was from and Samael nodded. He’d only been to San Francisco briefly, but remembered it as a nice place even if it was full of very strange sinners. Very, very strange sinners.

He smiled at the final question and nodded, “I was, actually. My mother was… well, she was a nun. Until she got pregnant. But she went back there to have me, she wanted me to be born there.”

“Flying is amazing,” Devon said matter-of-factly, his brow rising as his eyes sought out a lock with Samael’s. “But be careful, if you’re stupid enough to go more than a couple miles up here or like four near the equator, you’re going to have more to worry about than wind. You’ll start with oxygen deprivation and the temperature drops dramatically. Above the clouds it starts to warm again, but still well below freezing.”

A slow inhalation revealed a faint smile, “It’s beautiful up there and quiet.” He nodded his head from side to side, “But if I’m with you, I can lessen the chill, the winds, and even try to manipulate the air composition through the pressure.” The nods grew more confident. “Practice.”

“But your mother was a nun? Immaculate conception then? No wonder she wanted to be born in a church, geez. Your childhood was messed up then, wasn’t it? Lots of indoctrination and preachy sermons?”

Devon was starting to feel bad for this kid, even if he was older with more disciplined power. Growing up in a church was no way to grow up. How had that been allowed? Well he didn’t know the whole story yet, but look at the product. No wonder he was all zeal and little temperance.

((OOC:
Bipolar Disorder: Depressive state..
No percentage chances necessary at this time. ))

Samael nodded in agreement, “Flying it amazing.” Then he chuckled, “And no, I don’t go that high. It is cold enough already without worrying about that. Still, one of these days I should take a few weeks off to travel – I imagine some of those awesome tourist spots would be even better being able to take flights over them or up mountains any time.”

It was interesting that Devon could manipulate the coldness and air pressure, that seemed like pretty advanced stuff. This guy was more practiced than Samael had initially though, which was a good thing.

Then Devon started into the dangerous subject and Samael glanced away for a few moments before shaking his head, “No, not immaculate conception. And no, I didn’t grow up in the church directly, though it was very much a part of my life and schooling.” He looked back towards Devon, “I don’t think this is a subject you want to get too far into. You might find your beliefs somewhat shaken.”