Even the Wicked Need to Eat

“Be careful with oxygen on the mountains too,” Devon pointed out. Samael didn’t seem like he’d have trouble if he took it easy, but you never knew with some people. He felt he’d be amiss not to point out the elevation concerns. Even he’d been careful learning how his body adjusted after that first night.

His brow knit together, a low black line over ocean water blues, at the tone Samael took. This was starting to sound worse than a cult. Not immaculate conception meant he knew his father. So was he a mutant after all? Devon had started to wonder if something else was going on and now it sounded that way.

“We haven’t really talked of my beliefs,” Devon said with a smirk. “Telling me I don’t want to hear something is a sure fire way to get me to ask.” He glanced around, “But maybe now that dinner’s done, it’s time to take the conversation elsewhere.” He inclined his head and glanced upward, but then shrugged. “If you had creepy schooling and there’s more church weirdness, I want to hear it.”

“It’d be nice to hear that someone’s more fucked up than I,” he stated, before finishing off his milkshake. “Well, hear more proof you are anyway.”

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

Devon’s concern about oxygen in the mountains was almost endearing. Samael didn’t really have any plans to go to the mountains any time soon, but he supposed it made sense. It would be easy to just lose yourself in the fun of flight and next thing you know you’re a couple miles up and can’t breathe. That fall would suck.

Devon was also right that they hadn’t really talked about his beliefs, though Devon had already said he didn’t believe in God taking an active hand. That in itself was an important belief and would be the foundation for many others.

The waitress had dropped off the check, and Samael glanced at the bill, then deftly slid some bills into it before setting it back down. “Yes, I believe somewhere else would be good,” he said with a smile, “Let’s go.” He moved to stand up, zipping up his jacket as he stood and waited for Devon to join him before leaving the restaurant, “Did you have somewhere in mind?” He glanced upward briefly, it was getting dark out, perhaps the perfect time to not be seen by those below.

Devon was watching. He wanted to see just how much money Samael – the child of a Nun – was rolling with. He certainly didn’t seem to be hurting for cash, unless of course he stole his clothes. Really, who bought a white leather coat for the winter? He had a few ideas… Oh right, this guy.

He nodded to going and rolled right out of the booth, following after the guy who’d just bought him dinner. Is that really what he’d come to? He was gathering information he supposed but would he have had this good a meal without it? Maybe things were getting more desperate than Devon liked.

With a grin, he nodded to Samael. He did have a place in mind, but this was more than going to have a conversation. He was perking up and not just because they’d come outside. The air felt cool and flurries were about to start. Winter was a great time for introspection, whether you wanted it or not.

He craned his head and started walking, quickly ducking down an alley between a closed shoe store and some kitschy art gallery. With a deep inhalation, his grin broadened. Darkness took his eyes and all of oblivion looked back upon Samael. Then, with a howling breeze, Tempest flew up into the night.

((OOC:
Bipolar Disorder: Depressive state fading, end of thread.
No percentage chances necessary at this time. ))