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[He's already readying up his ammunition, grabbing at least two more handfuls of snow.]
think we already know the answer to that one. must be a family trait
[This time, he packs the snowballs a bit more firmly so that they almost completely engulf his hands. All the while, Greed tips his chin back to show off the slick carbon of his throat.]
and there it is. see that ? thats exactly what a pissant would say
[He takes one step forward, then another, with that same, so-sure confidence he's known for. The moment the first snowball comes his way, the former homunculus twists, listening as it makes contact with the ground.]
looks like you missed
[Truth be told, he forgot about Michael's little bag of tricks. Which is why, perhaps, the second ball he tosses hits the broadside of the hotel instead of its intended target. Because he isn't prepared for the sudden chill down his back, nor the laughter behind him. Greed whips around, tail lashing, and as dribbles of ice fall out from his shirt, he huffs at the empty air.]
Oi, oi, oi - ! Now, that's cheating. [He says, half-amused, half-chiding. He's about to throw his third shot, but as he notices Michael, he squints his eyes.]
[He doesn't have his sunglasses.]
[Greed slowly arches his eyebrows as he lets his grin cock up the side of his face.]
didn't know you had it in you. ah but you know how i feel about people stealing from me. can't let that slide
[And what's a Sin to do? Greed glances up towards the next available balcony and with a leap, he clears the railing. He's still a few floors down, but that doesn't stop him from leaning over the banister to throw up a large flurry of snow.]
If you are aware of that, then you only have yourself to blame for getting caught in a spider’s web twice.
[ He never unwinds like this, it is a safe bet that the issue that plagues him has been put on the back burner for the time being. ]
Calling me one hardly seems fair considering I’m just being truthful. The truth hurts, I suppose, or so they say.
Missed? On the contrary, I hit the bullseye. [ He leans over the railing to shoot the former homunculus a smile that isn’t the least bit apologetic. ]
If I remember correctly, when you steal something, you call it borrowing. For now, they can act as a reminder that you dropped your guard.
[ He urges the shades down just enough to look over the lenses at him. He could toss them down to the man but, as he has already begun to scale the building, he holds his position. ]
Well, that was foolish.
You had a strategic advantage down there, the snow is finite up here and now you are trapped in an enclosed space. Either you have a plan, or you are winging it, I’m going with the latter.
[ He manages to jerk his head back so he doesn’t take snow flurries to the kisser but, when he peers down again, he is dusted in a thin layer of snow from the top of his head to his shoulders.
But he is a man of patience, he simply stares down while idly tossing a snowball up the air and catching it like one would a baseball. And, since he is in earshot now, he calls down. ]
Are you coming up here to surrender? Very well, I accept.
[But the Sin doesn't answer, not right away. Instead, there's sounds: the click of his claws finding a door, the telltale rck-a-tck-tck as he fiddles with a lock. Finally, something pops and as he pushes the sliding glass open, Greed grabs his phone again.]
spiders web? thought that was angie's whole thing not yours
[He takes a moment to turn on a light switch. Thankfully, the room he's broken into is unoccupied at the moment. Greed wanders over into the kitchen.]
i dont know. always preferred being honest myself. but truth hurting huh. dont think you realize how right you are. ah
[He opens a fridge and his grin turns absolutely devilish.]
was it? guess we'll just have to wait and see. as for that other thing.
i'm not telling
[He yanks open a drawer, grabs a convenient zip-lock bag, and begins filling it with ice. Once he's satisfied he has enough, he nudges the refrigerator closed with his knee. A few, quick pounds of his fist later, and the cubes are nothing but dust.]
[Greed shakes the bag before going back out onto the balcony. He drops his phone into his pocket and tips his head up to look at Michael again.]
Ah, but I don't. So, sorry Blues, but I think I'm gunna have to deny you this time. Again, nothing personal. [But the look on his face: it's dastardly. And as the former homunculus gathers some drift-swept snow off the concrete, he adds in a bit of ice for good measure.]
Just tell me when you're ready to quit. [He says as he slaps his forearm, sending up his special wintery mix.]
It was a figure of speech. You are a magnet for trouble and a glutton for punishment.
You just broke into that room, didn’t you? Unreal. [ He can probably feel the exasperation through the text. If he was still outside at that point, he would have been treated to a frown. Teaching an old dog new tricks is trying work. ]
Good. I prefer it that way, your demeanor. Even while you are in the process of committing a crime.
[ The entire time Greed is surveying the room, Michael is finishing up his coffee. He even has time to pull a coin from his pocket to begin idly clearing the scratch off tickets. When he hears the distinct sound of footsteps, he sets them aside and pockets his own phone. ]
I was hoping you would say that. I hope you don’t have any other obligations for tonight, I have no intention of yielding.
[ The sin’s smile might be dastardly, but his is brimming with confidence. He is about to show him why. When the shower of snow is launched skyward, he lets his wings out and covers himself, flicking them outward to send some of it back down at his attacker of sorts. ]
A shield for a Shield. Maybe you should have set some ground rules, hm?
[ Musing to himself, he reaches out and half-heartedly let’s go of his snowball with the intention of aiming for a face shot. As an afterthought, he chimes in: ]
[And down, down, down, the snow goes. Greed doesn't even have time to get out of the way of it. Thankfully though, it's light enough that when Michael uses his wings to block it, what falls is merely a dusting; the look of it more like a fresh-falling storm, gentle and quiet.]
[The Sin shakes and from the tip of his head to the point of his tail, he sheds off some of the ice. He digs one of his claws into the shell of his ear, pulling out a rather sizable chunk.] Ehh, even if I did, it doesn't matter. I can always make it up to Ella later. [He cleans his nail using his thumb, sending a spittle of sleet onto the balcony.]
Ha - ! Fair enough. Suppose I shouldn't have doubted you. [While he talks, that vest of his slips off his shoulders. It glides over his elbows before he catches it by the collar. And as he holds it out, the 'Shield rises. Across his arms and over his chest, it goes; its movement as languid and slow as running ink.]
[When another snowball hits him in the face, the noise that follows is hard. Solid. Greed swipes at his jaw, and the tusks he's suddenly sporting shrink back down.] Ah, can't let you see that part. Sorry.
[No need to expose Michael to his ugly side, after all. But that doesn't mean he won't play ugly. Greed hooks one of his boots into the rail of the banister.] And why would I do that? I told you before to never hold back with me. There's no point, so why start now?
[This time, instead of snow, it's his vest that he flings up first. And he hopes it's enough of a distraction. Because what follows is the whole bag of ice. Using the bottom as a gripping point, the former homunculus tosses it up, leaving its top split wide open to let its contents spill out in a large, sweeping fan.]
[And behind it all? Is him. Him leaping up onto the next balcony, claws out, and laughter in his throat.]
Ella, is it? She must have the patience of a saint, then, if you are on a first name basis with her. I suppose I can leave a note on her door later.
[ Rather than continue their banter, he locks onto the vest and narrows his eyes slightly, as if trying to read what his next move might be. Anyone with eyes knows that he favors the vest so, if he is willing to part with it now, he is clearly up to no good. ]
Hiding them is unnecessary, trust that I’ve probably seen more monstrous things than that. If I didn’t accept you for all that you are, would we be here right now? Humans might shrink away, but I won’t.
[ Michael leans over the railing, resting his chin against his arms during their brief reprieve. It’s so funny, he hasn’t taken part in anything like this for well over ten thousand years, but he falls back into the old routine quickly enough. ]
Why? Hmm. It never hurts to be sure, a friendly reminder never hurt anyone. Besides, it’s rare that I’m able to engage someone with my full strength, maybe I was just making sure you weren’t getting cold feet.
[ The second he sees movement, he straightens up and braces himself for what is to come. He should have expected it to be the vest, maybe he’s getting slower in his old age. Not likely though. What he doesn’t expect is for the chunks of ice that rocket skyward to rain down and find their way past the collar of his shirt. Never again will he remove his tie prematurely for the evening.
What follows is a yelp after he catches the vest and drops it behind his side of the balcony. He hurriedly untucks his shirt and swears under his breath as he dances around trying to get the ice out. When Michael reappears, he looks disheveled and slightly annoyed by the inconvenience. ]
You might’ve landed a decisive blow, but now I have your sunglasses and your vest. It’s a rather cold evening, can you afford to lose anything else? The walk home may not be a cold one for you but, if you lose anything else, it might cause a scene.
[ He doesn’t join him in his laughter, but he does provide him with his best shit-eating grin as he hops up onto the railing himself and beckons him closer with a hand. Neither one of them have anymore snow in hand, but this chase has only just begun. There are plenty of surfaces around them to take it from, or he can take the “fight” to the ground floor or roof. ]
[Slipping onto the second balcony for the evening, the Sin casually pushes himself over the rail. He brushes his hand over his shoulder once to shoo away some of the ice he caught in the crossfire.] It's simply business, Blues. Nothing more to it than that. What, did you think I didn't have other work besides the bar? [Lifting his head, he checks to make sure this room is, like the last, empty before reaching into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes.]
[He pulls it out and bites at the corner of the lid to tear it off.] And don't think her place is the sort for someone like you. No offense. [The forks of his tongue find the butt of a smoke, twirling around it. Greed pulls it onto his lip as he lifts one of his arms high in the air to waggle a finger towards Michael.] You might be fine with it, but I'd rather not. Got a handsome face, Michael. Would prefer to keep it that way.
[The Sin jerks his hand across the rail. The sparks that follow, while brief, are enough for him to light his cigarette. And when the tip turns a low, simmering red, he jerks himself straight again, his grin slowly stretching across his face.] Didn't see that one coming, did ya? Told you before. I'm full of surprises.
[He inhales, dragging cold air and tobacco deep into his lungs. This battle is far from won, and he knows it. But that doesn't mean he isn't allowed to pause, break, and think about his next move. By the time Michael shows him his smile, the cigarette on his lip is a third of the way burned.]
[Greed pinches it, pitching it over the side of the rail. Because he knows that look. Knows it well, in fact.] Oh, ho - ! There you go. There's that attitude of yours. Was almost starting to think you were gunna make it easy on me. [Behind him, his tail shivers. It twitches softly along the balcony's concrete slab, shaking out a small speckling of ice.] And is that what you're worried about? If I'd cause a scene? [He tilts his head, giving Michael a slow, mocking wink.] Or is it something else?
[The Sin rolls his neck. With no words left to give, he takes another leap upward. The tips of his claws sink into the lip of the next balcony and as he leaves behind five, deep-run gouges, he uses the anchor as a jumping point to land boots-first on the banister.]
[Thnck.]
Haven't held your punches before, don't see why that should change now. [He hums, gripping the rail between his legs. With his shoulders hunched and his knees splayed out, it would be all too easy to mistake him for a gargoyle; his steamy breath and wafting tail, the only things giving him away. Greed smears one of his hands along the iron, putting together a short pile of sleet.]
Cold feet, huh. [He says, mostly to himself. But once he has enough ice, he squishes it together, forming a broken, loose-shaped sphere.] Dunno, Blues. Why don't we find out?
[He doesn't bother aiming for Michael this time. No, once again, he uses the ball as means of directing his attention elsewhere. Because as soon as the snow leaves his hand, the Sin tilts back, making his heels notch into the rail. He waits a second, just enough time to catch Michael with that too-sure smile of his, before prying his hands loose off the banister. And as his body begins its free fall, the former homunculus touches the side of his temple, shooting off a sarcastic salute.]
Hardly. For the man who wants it all, it isn’t a stretch. That’s where we differ, you live for the contact with others, while I find myself eager to get away. Standing here now, feeling the chill against my face, is the ultimate sense of peace.
It sounds like you are making decisions for me again. [ He muses, knowing full well that Greed is right and wouldn’t lead him astray. If he says it isn’t the type of place for him, then it isn’t. ] I’m beginning to think you care more about my face than I do, Greed. Is there something you want to tell me?
[ The sparks alight against the stark white background and, once the cigarette is lit, he finds he can follow the glow every time he inhales. It would be a foolish move for anyone else, but he knows anything the former homunculus does is deliberate. ] The ice? No, but I should have known you would think outside the box, even with something like this. I’m impressed, you used your environment to your advantage. Throwing your vest was a nice touch, but an unnecessary sacrifice.
No, taking it easy on any opponent would be an insult. Besides, why would I hold back when I’m rarely able to let myself go? Though, if you keep going on like that, I might just take a cheap shot to be spiteful. You know that isn’t the case. [ Normally, that is. He would never do such a dishonorable thing, but the might is vague enough to let him find a loophole in his own rigid set of rules. ]
It won’t, but I hope you don’t end up regretting this in the end. I told you once before, I’ve only lost one fight in my lifetime.
[ Before the snowball even makes contact, Michael spreads both his arms out to either side, tipping his head off to one side to watch him. He knows a snowball is coming but, after the last sneak attack, he is expecting another trick. He closes his eyes and lets himself fall forward with all the grace of a swan.
Without a confined space to compress them, all six wings stretch to their full length and snap in the air to give him enough speed to catch up to the dark blur still falling. There is no immediate retaliation but his dive will earn him bonus points. In the midst of their fall, he pulls the sunglasses off and, now nearly nose to nose with him, returns them to their owner. ]
The vest you’ll have to win back. Oh, and Greed? You seem to have dropped something. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t return it?
[ That snowball he threw? Michael reveals it in his other hand before promptly reaching out to dump it on his head and ruffle his hair to ensure the slush gets worked in properly. After though? His wings catch him right before he hits the ground, making for a nimble landing. ]
[He has just enough time to snap his teeth. The warm air trapped in his lungs fogs off the tips of them. Against the whipping wind, it only lasts for a second; its moment short-lived and quick. But it doesn't matter. Because as he feels his sunglasses press up his nose, the Sin leans forward. He knows he has only seconds (precious seconds), but he takes them for all their worth. And they are worth it. Worth it all, if only for - ]
Ah - ? [He barely manages to get out before a slosh of ice flattens between his horns. It catches him off guard, making his body second guess itself before the evitable plunge. The squares of his heels grind into the snow, dragging out parallel lines that wander and wave like the backend of a car, spinning in a fishtail. No, where Michael's landing is graceful and smooth, his? It's entirely the opposite. A showering wake of ice and snow fans along either side of him and as the Sin reaches out, he sinks his claws into the ground, pulling up a cake of stiff-cold mud.]
Ha AHAHAHAHA - ! I'd say that was a pretty cheap shot. [Greed tips back on his heels to pry his nails loose. Already, the ice stuck between them is beginning to melt; his oppressive heat turning it to a sloshy, sleety mix. He stands up, shaking his wrist to flick a splattering of half-frozen muck onto the snow.] As for that, I'm not worried about your face, Blues. Mine just - ah, doesn't matter. [Running his hands through his hair, he gives it a quick shake.] And there's nothing to tell that you wouldn't know already.
[He tilts his head to the side and a slop of snow splats along his boots. Shloop. Whatever style he had to his hair is gone by this point.] So, what? Are you saying you're impressed by me now? [He starts in as a single clump of snow slides down his face. Greed takes one step forward. All around the courtyard, there's signs of where he's been: the tracks of his boots leading up to the hotel, the small divots where he's retaliated in their friendly game of fire. And as light snow begins to gradually eat them away, the Sin lets his tail tunnel through a sizable mound.]
You might not be good with people, but you wouldn't be the first. [The spines at the tip of his tail scrape at the snow, breaking it apart into sizable, throwable chunks.] Outcasts, Michael. Here, before. They always come to me. Those that could never live a normal kind of life - [Trailing off, the Sin slides his eyes slyly to the side. Ah, and there's that look again. That terrible, awful look.] - that much hasn't changed. Might not think it, but I've always been a fan of the underdog.
[He takes his moment, then. With a whipping snap, the former homunculus yanks his tail from the snow, sending a curtain of ice out in front of him. It shoots into the air like a spray. One thick, whitening, and maybe, just maybe, disorienting enough that he won't see him coming. No one said he couldn't play dirty, after all. And as he slides forward, he crouches down, grabbing two more handfuls of snow.]
[One, he aims for Michael's face. But the other? He'll try to get down the front of shirt.]
Was it? I believe I remember someone telling me all is fair in love and war.
[ He watches the whole display, noting how quickly the ice melts. Well, at least someone is equipped to deal with this weather. Were he anyone else, he might have been a little jealous but the warm clothing, as long as it isn’t cumbersome, is not a huge imposition. Tedious maybe, but not to the degree of warranting the jealousy. ]
Impressed? Don’t be absurd, it will take more than fancy footwork and ingenuity to impress me, Greed, but you’re well on your way. Let’s take care of that pride now, before your head gets so large that you’re unable to fit in the elevator for the ride down.
[ His attention lingers on the chunks and he nearly grins. This may be all in good fun but (aside from the Purge) it has been a long time since he was able to move like this. He is both thankful and impressed. ]
No, I would never expect you to root for anyone but the underdog. The underdog has everything going against them, much like the outcasts that flock to him, but everything to gain. When one feels they have nothing to lose, that is when they feel the most alive.
[ Michael digs a heel into the snow-covered earth to give himself a better foothold when he snaps his wings in an attempt to thwart the oncoming distraction. It is somewhat successful but appears to leave him wide open to both snowballs.
Funny enough, he lets the first one strike him in the face and shakes his head to clear his vision. He snatches up the wrist of the hand going to dump the snow and tries to twist it, letting the snow flurry over the top of his head instead. He hasn’t even begun to get into this fight yet, snow is not the only weapon available to him.
But there is no pride in his eyes when he hooks his foot around Greed’s leg to try and knock him off balance — just enough to make him stumble forward a little so he is easier to reach. Why? Well, all six of his wings create a loose cocoon around them both as he leans up, catches him by the chin and locks their lips together. Soft and hesitant but lingering.
When he pulls back, he is still close enough to smell him, to taste the lingering hint of nicotine on his mouth. But is there victory in his eyes? No, he looks so incredibly torn. Finally, nonchalantly, he begins to withdraw. ]
I yield. [ With a snap of his fingers, the vest reappears on Greed. Now that is a cheap parting shot. ] I suppose that makes this your win.
[A slosh of ice slides down the side of his jaw, meeting his grin and splitting. This is a different side of Michael he rarely (if ever) gets to see. Where duty and paperwork have been brushed aside and the fight isn't one between righteousness and a perceived threat, but a way to let loose. To let loose, to unwind, and to be free for maybe the first time ever in his life.]
Love and war, huh? Didn't think it was that serious, Blue Eyes. [The thick cloud of fog hanging around his face thins and the Sin jerks his hips, shoving his heel deep into the snow. At first, he thinks he has the upper hand. Even when Michael grabs his wrist and twists it, the expression on his face is as wild as ever. No, this fight has barely begun, and it wouldn't be the Archangel he knows if he let him down so easy. It's been trained into him: how to maneuver and manipulate the situation to play the odds out in his favor.]
[But he's so focused on his face that he easily misses the next move. There's a foot around his leg, a tug of gravity, and the former homunculus (surprised, but not shocked) claps his jaws together, readying himself for a painful blow. Michael Morningstar may not look much to most. But ah, he's said it, hasn't he? How looks can be oh-so deceiving.]
[And he's ready for it. The 'Shield trembles up his neck, instinctually fingering at his chin in preparation, and the Sin goes solidly stiff.]
[What he isn't ready for is the gentle touch on his chin and the kiss that follows, as chaste and light as the snow all around them.]
[Greed blinks through the haze. He can taste Michael on his lips, the graze of him, the clean kind of sweetness (crisp, barely there like crystal-clear water) of him against the leftover tobacco sticking to his teeth. It's fresh is what it is. Fresh, feather-weight, yet painfully, painfully brief.]
[Which is why, for a second, he says nothing at all and just watches him; the look on his face, as dumbfounded as a man on the receiving end of a five-finger slap.] Tsk - [The former homunculus shoots his hand out, trying to snag any part of Michael that he can (be it his shirt, his collar, or anything else within his grabbing, gaping reach).]
[He doesn't even seem to care when the vest reappears on his back, bringing the comfortable fur of his collar pluming along his neck. No, oh no. He's got something else in mind. Something he's been waiting a long, long time for.]
[Greed skirts air between his teeth, wheezing it over their sharp, knifing points.] - oi, oi, oi. It wasn't about winning, Blues. [Another slip of melting snow trickles down the back of his neck and dives behind his vest.]
[He makes an effort to lean in, then; his whole body chasing after Michael's retreat like a shadow, stretching with sun. Greed bows his head and as his fingers loosen their grip, a faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.] Wouldn't have made a difference, y'know. If I won or not. That was never the point. [When he leans forward, he makes an effort to try to find Michael's forehead with his own; the touch of the jewel in his forehead warm despite the chill.] But I'll say one thing.
[Slowly, his eyes peel open and a shimmer of red teases behind them.]
[ War is always serious, no matter the species. This is why the offspring of animals partake in playful spars of their own to prepare them for a predestined life that favors the continuation of their bloodlines rather than love, a life wrought with danger. Love is something they cannot afford in their even shorter lives, it is kill or be killed.
Even so, love and war will always go hand in hand.
But as much as he might be dwelling too harshly on the words, he is finally letting go. He is doing what everyone here has asked him to, to stop living for people other than himself when those people are not here. As unfamiliar as it might be, it does feel nice.
The smile on his face is almost boyish and his attire, at least his shirt, is partially untucked and lightly wrinkled. His hair? Unkempt. But the way Greed stands there without a word has him thinking he has over-stepped his boundaries. A disadvantage in a battle would normally have him retreating to find a better vantage point, where he could take the time to assess and troubleshoot.
He does not have that here, not when he feels his escape halted by claws. Not to rip or tear, but just to encourage him to stay. If he had a heart, it would be rattling in his chest like a pinball. As it stands, a breath that is unnecessary to take catches in his throat to give away his anticipation. ]
Don’t take part in a battle with that kind of attitude, things can change quickly.
[ A reprimand, sure, but his tone is soft and somewhat fond, as his hand finds the hand that grabbed him. For a moment, all he does is gingerly stroke at the claws, still wrapping his mind around the fact that he did this at all. To be so impulsive is unlike him. ]
I don’t know if it was the right choice, but it was a choice. My choice. Does that count for anything? [ Michael never tries to avoid his gaze. In fact, he seems to be looking so intently, like he expects the answer to his unease will be there. Only when he finds nothing does he start to shy away a fraction.
What is done is done and now he is at a loss. What happens now? Is it wrong of him to think that seeing him the following day won’t be a problem? He did not do this for a guarantee, not for a taste of something forbidden or any other frivolous claim. A kiss is typically reserved for humans, and they are not human, to breed connection, but it also be a show of respect.
No, even he knows he didn’t do this for that reason.
Should he apologize? No, at least not after he feels himself easing forward so their foreheads can meet. The warmth, as big a contrast as the man himself, has Michael sinking against him, his wings drawing back to reveal the display. He does not care who sees, that alone startles him.
Before making contact and closing his eyes, blue meets red as he takes in the glow. Quietly, more to himself than to his company: ]
[The Sin's tail licks out behind him and with a flick, he sends another splintering of ice pelting to the ground, making small imprints in the snow. He lets a shallow breath slip between his teeth. No, he knows all about war. How it always costs more, how it never comes cheap. But this isn't a battleground, even if the tracks in the ice say otherwise. It's that other half of the equation. And while he doesn't know it, while he never quite will, wanting. Ah, is that a language he can understand.]
[Starting from the pinkie and moving up, Greed splays out his fingers. He keeps the hooks of his claws curled closer to the inside of his palm, leaving their soft edges open to the touch.] If we were really fighting, I don't think we'd be having this conversation, Blues. [His eyes sink heavy at the rims of his sunglasses. There's something almost unreadable about his look: the stillness as he follows after Michael's hand, the slight twitch in his gaze as the slits of his eyes widen, only to snap back to narrow, quaking points. The former homunculus flexes his toes in his boots. He can feel the chill biting at the leather, and it's enough to bring him back.]
[And bring him back, it does. The smile on his face is softer somehow. Kinder. Like the smooth side of steel, hiding its edge. A hum vibrates deafly in his chest.] Your choice, huh? [Greed catches Michael's stare. He thinks he can almost see those gears of his turning. Those endless thoughts racing against themselves, trying to justify every action on a set of scales that don't exist.]
[The Sin makes a sound in his nose.] Tch, does it count. That's a stupid question. [He tries to level the flat part of his thumb under Michael's chin as he feels his wings retreat. It's like the curtain is finally being pulled aside. And if someone happens to catch what's behind it? If someone gets a little peek? Well, it's not like he's ever been shy before.]
[Still, he makes an effort to pivot a bit. Michael's been as giving as he always is. It seems only fair that he returns the gesture. Greed twists his back, exposing it towards the windows of the hotel. It may not be a lot of privacy, but it's something.] Getting lost in that head of yours again, aren't you? [He slurs and as he tilts his chin, he lets the tip of his nose brush against Michael's.] I could tell you the same thing I always do. What's right and what's wrong never mattered to me, Blue Eyes. What matters is whether this is what you really want.
[Given how close he is, the Sin lets his words touch along Michael's lips. He's barely there and everywhere all at once; his presence more similar to steam, venting from a cold, iron grate. Greed peels his head away and as he tries to feel out the Archangel's lower lip with his thumb, the tip of his tail whisks at the snow, collecting up a small, powdery dusting.]
And you can't really call me virtuous. Besides, if it really bothers you, you can always blame it on that little problem of yours - [A sneer teases on his face. Of course, he's not being serious. Even if this whole thing had started as a way of distracting Michael, this? Whatever this is? He wouldn't change it for the world.]
[Doesn't mean he can't be a shit about it.]
[Greed nips at the corner of Michael's mouth before finally pulling away.] - now, before you get any more crazy ideas, think it's about time you head back upstairs, hmn? [Lifting his hand, the Sin slowly tries to push the Archangel's hair back. The man is a stickler for presentation, after all.] No point staying out here.
[ The ice chunks catch his attention, causing him to look away just long enough to trace their path. His amusement kicks back in when he finds himself wondering why Greed didn’t bother to use this blatant distraction to pick up another handful of snow and dump it on him. ]
On that you definitely know better, I’m an angel of many words. Even when I fight I try to minimize damage and talk my so-called enemies down. I might have limited what I said, but I would still talk to you openly like this.
[ The expression gives him pause because he has always been able to read him, much to the displeasure of the former homunculus. But here and now? He finds himself at a loss, as want isn’t typically something he deals with, not in this manner. If the circumstances were different, he might have teased him for the soft expression. For now, he quietly relishes in it. ] Yes, my choice. I have you to thank for that.
[ A laugh, a mere exhale through his nose, is all he gets about his bad habit while he tilts his head into the touch. Oh, his movements are a little awkward but he has the spirit. When they are nose to nose, he closes his eyes. ]
You could say that but you know it won’t do any good, and it is what I want. You’ll have to excuse the execution because, for once, I’m flying blind here. It’s strange, being close enough to smell and taste someone. A show of intimacy that I never thought I would take any part in.
[ Annd there he is, right back to the Sin he knows he is. The indignation is splashed across his face. ]
Ideas, he says. [ He scoffs at the insinuation, his feathers bristling behind him. There are no ideas in his head at the moment, just a vast, endless void of static and dial-up tones. Michael reaches up to touch the corner of his mouth where his teeth nipped, looking vaguely startled. ]
Banishing me to my room like a child, you’re very audacious, aren’t you? As it just so happens, I was planning on going back after I returned the vest. You should go back before Miss Kamora starts wondering where her prize is. I did text her to let her know you would be picking it up.
[ He closes his eyes, letting out a soft sigh at the fingers through his hair. Leave it to Greed to be mindful of his appearance for him, as well as try to protect his virtue. ]
Thank you for the distraction but, if I worried about someone seeing us, I wouldn’t have lowered my wings. Remember that. [ His voice drops to a whisper, his expression softening into something that almost comes off as tender. The small amount of embarrassment he will feel later is a problem for future Michael. ]
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think we already know the answer to that one. must be a family trait
[This time, he packs the snowballs a bit more firmly so that they almost completely engulf his hands. All the while, Greed tips his chin back to show off the slick carbon of his throat.]
and there it is. see that ? thats exactly what a pissant would say
[He takes one step forward, then another, with that same, so-sure confidence he's known for. The moment the first snowball comes his way, the former homunculus twists, listening as it makes contact with the ground.]
looks like you missed
[Truth be told, he forgot about Michael's little bag of tricks. Which is why, perhaps, the second ball he tosses hits the broadside of the hotel instead of its intended target. Because he isn't prepared for the sudden chill down his back, nor the laughter behind him. Greed whips around, tail lashing, and as dribbles of ice fall out from his shirt, he huffs at the empty air.]
Oi, oi, oi - ! Now, that's cheating. [He says, half-amused, half-chiding. He's about to throw his third shot, but as he notices Michael, he squints his eyes.]
[He doesn't have his sunglasses.]
[Greed slowly arches his eyebrows as he lets his grin cock up the side of his face.]
didn't know you had it in you. ah but you know how i feel about people stealing from me. can't let that slide
[And what's a Sin to do? Greed glances up towards the next available balcony and with a leap, he clears the railing. He's still a few floors down, but that doesn't stop him from leaning over the banister to throw up a large flurry of snow.]
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[ He never unwinds like this, it is a safe bet that the issue that plagues him has been put on the back burner for the time being. ]
Calling me one hardly seems fair considering I’m just being truthful. The truth hurts, I suppose, or so they say.
Missed? On the contrary, I hit the bullseye. [ He leans over the railing to shoot the former homunculus a smile that isn’t the least bit apologetic. ]
If I remember correctly, when you steal something, you call it borrowing. For now, they can act as a reminder that you dropped your guard.
[ He urges the shades down just enough to look over the lenses at him. He could toss them down to the man but, as he has already begun to scale the building, he holds his position. ]
Well, that was foolish.
You had a strategic advantage down there, the snow is finite up here and now you are trapped in an enclosed space. Either you have a plan, or you are winging it, I’m going with the latter.
[ He manages to jerk his head back so he doesn’t take snow flurries to the kisser but, when he peers down again, he is dusted in a thin layer of snow from the top of his head to his shoulders.
But he is a man of patience, he simply stares down while idly tossing a snowball up the air and catching it like one would a baseball. And, since he is in earshot now, he calls down. ]
Are you coming up here to surrender? Very well, I accept.
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spiders web? thought that was angie's whole thing not yours
[He takes a moment to turn on a light switch. Thankfully, the room he's broken into is unoccupied at the moment. Greed wanders over into the kitchen.]
i dont know. always preferred being honest myself. but truth hurting huh. dont think you realize how right you are. ah
[He opens a fridge and his grin turns absolutely devilish.]
was it? guess we'll just have to wait and see. as for that other thing.
i'm not telling
[He yanks open a drawer, grabs a convenient zip-lock bag, and begins filling it with ice. Once he's satisfied he has enough, he nudges the refrigerator closed with his knee. A few, quick pounds of his fist later, and the cubes are nothing but dust.]
[Greed shakes the bag before going back out onto the balcony. He drops his phone into his pocket and tips his head up to look at Michael again.]
Ah, but I don't. So, sorry Blues, but I think I'm gunna have to deny you this time. Again, nothing personal. [But the look on his face: it's dastardly. And as the former homunculus gathers some drift-swept snow off the concrete, he adds in a bit of ice for good measure.]
Just tell me when you're ready to quit. [He says as he slaps his forearm, sending up his special wintery mix.]
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You just broke into that room, didn’t you? Unreal. [ He can probably feel the exasperation through the text. If he was still outside at that point, he would have been treated to a frown. Teaching an old dog new tricks is trying work. ]
Good. I prefer it that way, your demeanor. Even while you are in the process of committing a crime.
[ The entire time Greed is surveying the room, Michael is finishing up his coffee. He even has time to pull a coin from his pocket to begin idly clearing the scratch off tickets. When he hears the distinct sound of footsteps, he sets them aside and pockets his own phone. ]
I was hoping you would say that. I hope you don’t have any other obligations for tonight, I have no intention of yielding.
[ The sin’s smile might be dastardly, but his is brimming with confidence. He is about to show him why. When the shower of snow is launched skyward, he lets his wings out and covers himself, flicking them outward to send some of it back down at his attacker of sorts. ]
A shield for a Shield. Maybe you should have set some ground rules, hm?
[ Musing to himself, he reaches out and half-heartedly let’s go of his snowball with the intention of aiming for a face shot. As an afterthought, he chimes in: ]
We won ten dollars, by the way.
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[The Sin shakes and from the tip of his head to the point of his tail, he sheds off some of the ice. He digs one of his claws into the shell of his ear, pulling out a rather sizable chunk.] Ehh, even if I did, it doesn't matter. I can always make it up to Ella later. [He cleans his nail using his thumb, sending a spittle of sleet onto the balcony.]
Ha - ! Fair enough. Suppose I shouldn't have doubted you. [While he talks, that vest of his slips off his shoulders. It glides over his elbows before he catches it by the collar. And as he holds it out, the 'Shield rises. Across his arms and over his chest, it goes; its movement as languid and slow as running ink.]
[When another snowball hits him in the face, the noise that follows is hard. Solid. Greed swipes at his jaw, and the tusks he's suddenly sporting shrink back down.] Ah, can't let you see that part. Sorry.
[No need to expose Michael to his ugly side, after all. But that doesn't mean he won't play ugly. Greed hooks one of his boots into the rail of the banister.] And why would I do that? I told you before to never hold back with me. There's no point, so why start now?
[This time, instead of snow, it's his vest that he flings up first. And he hopes it's enough of a distraction. Because what follows is the whole bag of ice. Using the bottom as a gripping point, the former homunculus tosses it up, leaving its top split wide open to let its contents spill out in a large, sweeping fan.]
[And behind it all? Is him. Him leaping up onto the next balcony, claws out, and laughter in his throat.]
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[ Rather than continue their banter, he locks onto the vest and narrows his eyes slightly, as if trying to read what his next move might be. Anyone with eyes knows that he favors the vest so, if he is willing to part with it now, he is clearly up to no good. ]
Hiding them is unnecessary, trust that I’ve probably seen more monstrous things than that. If I didn’t accept you for all that you are, would we be here right now? Humans might shrink away, but I won’t.
[ Michael leans over the railing, resting his chin against his arms during their brief reprieve. It’s so funny, he hasn’t taken part in anything like this for well over ten thousand years, but he falls back into the old routine quickly enough. ]
Why? Hmm. It never hurts to be sure, a friendly reminder never hurt anyone. Besides, it’s rare that I’m able to engage someone with my full strength, maybe I was just making sure you weren’t getting cold feet.
[ The second he sees movement, he straightens up and braces himself for what is to come. He should have expected it to be the vest, maybe he’s getting slower in his old age. Not likely though. What he doesn’t expect is for the chunks of ice that rocket skyward to rain down and find their way past the collar of his shirt. Never again will he remove his tie prematurely for the evening.
What follows is a yelp after he catches the vest and drops it behind his side of the balcony. He hurriedly untucks his shirt and swears under his breath as he dances around trying to get the ice out. When Michael reappears, he looks disheveled and slightly annoyed by the inconvenience. ]
You might’ve landed a decisive blow, but now I have your sunglasses and your vest. It’s a rather cold evening, can you afford to lose anything else? The walk home may not be a cold one for you but, if you lose anything else, it might cause a scene.
[ He doesn’t join him in his laughter, but he does provide him with his best shit-eating grin as he hops up onto the railing himself and beckons him closer with a hand. Neither one of them have anymore snow in hand, but this chase has only just begun. There are plenty of surfaces around them to take it from, or he can take the “fight” to the ground floor or roof. ]
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[He pulls it out and bites at the corner of the lid to tear it off.] And don't think her place is the sort for someone like you. No offense. [The forks of his tongue find the butt of a smoke, twirling around it. Greed pulls it onto his lip as he lifts one of his arms high in the air to waggle a finger towards Michael.] You might be fine with it, but I'd rather not. Got a handsome face, Michael. Would prefer to keep it that way.
[The Sin jerks his hand across the rail. The sparks that follow, while brief, are enough for him to light his cigarette. And when the tip turns a low, simmering red, he jerks himself straight again, his grin slowly stretching across his face.] Didn't see that one coming, did ya? Told you before. I'm full of surprises.
[He inhales, dragging cold air and tobacco deep into his lungs. This battle is far from won, and he knows it. But that doesn't mean he isn't allowed to pause, break, and think about his next move. By the time Michael shows him his smile, the cigarette on his lip is a third of the way burned.]
[Greed pinches it, pitching it over the side of the rail. Because he knows that look. Knows it well, in fact.] Oh, ho - ! There you go. There's that attitude of yours. Was almost starting to think you were gunna make it easy on me. [Behind him, his tail shivers. It twitches softly along the balcony's concrete slab, shaking out a small speckling of ice.] And is that what you're worried about? If I'd cause a scene? [He tilts his head, giving Michael a slow, mocking wink.] Or is it something else?
[The Sin rolls his neck. With no words left to give, he takes another leap upward. The tips of his claws sink into the lip of the next balcony and as he leaves behind five, deep-run gouges, he uses the anchor as a jumping point to land boots-first on the banister.]
[Thnck.]
Haven't held your punches before, don't see why that should change now. [He hums, gripping the rail between his legs. With his shoulders hunched and his knees splayed out, it would be all too easy to mistake him for a gargoyle; his steamy breath and wafting tail, the only things giving him away. Greed smears one of his hands along the iron, putting together a short pile of sleet.]
Cold feet, huh. [He says, mostly to himself. But once he has enough ice, he squishes it together, forming a broken, loose-shaped sphere.] Dunno, Blues. Why don't we find out?
[He doesn't bother aiming for Michael this time. No, once again, he uses the ball as means of directing his attention elsewhere. Because as soon as the snow leaves his hand, the Sin tilts back, making his heels notch into the rail. He waits a second, just enough time to catch Michael with that too-sure smile of his, before prying his hands loose off the banister. And as his body begins its free fall, the former homunculus touches the side of his temple, shooting off a sarcastic salute.]
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It sounds like you are making decisions for me again. [ He muses, knowing full well that Greed is right and wouldn’t lead him astray. If he says it isn’t the type of place for him, then it isn’t. ] I’m beginning to think you care more about my face than I do, Greed. Is there something you want to tell me?
[ The sparks alight against the stark white background and, once the cigarette is lit, he finds he can follow the glow every time he inhales. It would be a foolish move for anyone else, but he knows anything the former homunculus does is deliberate. ] The ice? No, but I should have known you would think outside the box, even with something like this. I’m impressed, you used your environment to your advantage. Throwing your vest was a nice touch, but an unnecessary sacrifice.
No, taking it easy on any opponent would be an insult. Besides, why would I hold back when I’m rarely able to let myself go? Though, if you keep going on like that, I might just take a cheap shot to be spiteful. You know that isn’t the case. [ Normally, that is. He would never do such a dishonorable thing, but the might is vague enough to let him find a loophole in his own rigid set of rules. ]
It won’t, but I hope you don’t end up regretting this in the end. I told you once before, I’ve only lost one fight in my lifetime.
[ Before the snowball even makes contact, Michael spreads both his arms out to either side, tipping his head off to one side to watch him. He knows a snowball is coming but, after the last sneak attack, he is expecting another trick. He closes his eyes and lets himself fall forward with all the grace of a swan.
Without a confined space to compress them, all six wings stretch to their full length and snap in the air to give him enough speed to catch up to the dark blur still falling. There is no immediate retaliation but his dive will earn him bonus points. In the midst of their fall, he pulls the sunglasses off and, now nearly nose to nose with him, returns them to their owner. ]
The vest you’ll have to win back. Oh, and Greed? You seem to have dropped something. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t return it?
[ That snowball he threw? Michael reveals it in his other hand before promptly reaching out to dump it on his head and ruffle his hair to ensure the slush gets worked in properly. After though? His wings catch him right before he hits the ground, making for a nimble landing. ]
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Ah - ? [He barely manages to get out before a slosh of ice flattens between his horns. It catches him off guard, making his body second guess itself before the evitable plunge. The squares of his heels grind into the snow, dragging out parallel lines that wander and wave like the backend of a car, spinning in a fishtail. No, where Michael's landing is graceful and smooth, his? It's entirely the opposite. A showering wake of ice and snow fans along either side of him and as the Sin reaches out, he sinks his claws into the ground, pulling up a cake of stiff-cold mud.]
Ha AHAHAHAHA - ! I'd say that was a pretty cheap shot. [Greed tips back on his heels to pry his nails loose. Already, the ice stuck between them is beginning to melt; his oppressive heat turning it to a sloshy, sleety mix. He stands up, shaking his wrist to flick a splattering of half-frozen muck onto the snow.] As for that, I'm not worried about your face, Blues. Mine just - ah, doesn't matter. [Running his hands through his hair, he gives it a quick shake.] And there's nothing to tell that you wouldn't know already.
[He tilts his head to the side and a slop of snow splats along his boots. Shloop. Whatever style he had to his hair is gone by this point.] So, what? Are you saying you're impressed by me now? [He starts in as a single clump of snow slides down his face. Greed takes one step forward. All around the courtyard, there's signs of where he's been: the tracks of his boots leading up to the hotel, the small divots where he's retaliated in their friendly game of fire. And as light snow begins to gradually eat them away, the Sin lets his tail tunnel through a sizable mound.]
You might not be good with people, but you wouldn't be the first. [The spines at the tip of his tail scrape at the snow, breaking it apart into sizable, throwable chunks.] Outcasts, Michael. Here, before. They always come to me. Those that could never live a normal kind of life - [Trailing off, the Sin slides his eyes slyly to the side. Ah, and there's that look again. That terrible, awful look.] - that much hasn't changed. Might not think it, but I've always been a fan of the underdog.
[He takes his moment, then. With a whipping snap, the former homunculus yanks his tail from the snow, sending a curtain of ice out in front of him. It shoots into the air like a spray. One thick, whitening, and maybe, just maybe, disorienting enough that he won't see him coming. No one said he couldn't play dirty, after all. And as he slides forward, he crouches down, grabbing two more handfuls of snow.]
[One, he aims for Michael's face. But the other? He'll try to get down the front of shirt.]
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[ He watches the whole display, noting how quickly the ice melts. Well, at least someone is equipped to deal with this weather. Were he anyone else, he might have been a little jealous but the warm clothing, as long as it isn’t cumbersome, is not a huge imposition. Tedious maybe, but not to the degree of warranting the jealousy. ]
Impressed? Don’t be absurd, it will take more than fancy footwork and ingenuity to impress me, Greed, but you’re well on your way. Let’s take care of that pride now, before your head gets so large that you’re unable to fit in the elevator for the ride down.
[ His attention lingers on the chunks and he nearly grins. This may be all in good fun but (aside from the Purge) it has been a long time since he was able to move like this. He is both thankful and impressed. ]
No, I would never expect you to root for anyone but the underdog. The underdog has everything going against them, much like the outcasts that flock to him, but everything to gain. When one feels they have nothing to lose, that is when they feel the most alive.
[ Michael digs a heel into the snow-covered earth to give himself a better foothold when he snaps his wings in an attempt to thwart the oncoming distraction. It is somewhat successful but appears to leave him wide open to both snowballs.
Funny enough, he lets the first one strike him in the face and shakes his head to clear his vision. He snatches up the wrist of the hand going to dump the snow and tries to twist it, letting the snow flurry over the top of his head instead. He hasn’t even begun to get into this fight yet, snow is not the only weapon available to him.
But there is no pride in his eyes when he hooks his foot around Greed’s leg to try and knock him off balance — just enough to make him stumble forward a little so he is easier to reach. Why? Well, all six of his wings create a loose cocoon around them both as he leans up, catches him by the chin and locks their lips together. Soft and hesitant but lingering.
When he pulls back, he is still close enough to smell him, to taste the lingering hint of nicotine on his mouth. But is there victory in his eyes? No, he looks so incredibly torn. Finally, nonchalantly, he begins to withdraw. ]
I yield. [ With a snap of his fingers, the vest reappears on Greed. Now that is a cheap parting shot. ] I suppose that makes this your win.
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Love and war, huh? Didn't think it was that serious, Blue Eyes. [The thick cloud of fog hanging around his face thins and the Sin jerks his hips, shoving his heel deep into the snow. At first, he thinks he has the upper hand. Even when Michael grabs his wrist and twists it, the expression on his face is as wild as ever. No, this fight has barely begun, and it wouldn't be the Archangel he knows if he let him down so easy. It's been trained into him: how to maneuver and manipulate the situation to play the odds out in his favor.]
[But he's so focused on his face that he easily misses the next move. There's a foot around his leg, a tug of gravity, and the former homunculus (surprised, but not shocked) claps his jaws together, readying himself for a painful blow. Michael Morningstar may not look much to most. But ah, he's said it, hasn't he? How looks can be oh-so deceiving.]
[And he's ready for it. The 'Shield trembles up his neck, instinctually fingering at his chin in preparation, and the Sin goes solidly stiff.]
[What he isn't ready for is the gentle touch on his chin and the kiss that follows, as chaste and light as the snow all around them.]
[Greed blinks through the haze. He can taste Michael on his lips, the graze of him, the clean kind of sweetness (crisp, barely there like crystal-clear water) of him against the leftover tobacco sticking to his teeth. It's fresh is what it is. Fresh, feather-weight, yet painfully, painfully brief.]
[Which is why, for a second, he says nothing at all and just watches him; the look on his face, as dumbfounded as a man on the receiving end of a five-finger slap.] Tsk - [The former homunculus shoots his hand out, trying to snag any part of Michael that he can (be it his shirt, his collar, or anything else within his grabbing, gaping reach).]
[He doesn't even seem to care when the vest reappears on his back, bringing the comfortable fur of his collar pluming along his neck. No, oh no. He's got something else in mind. Something he's been waiting a long, long time for.]
[Greed skirts air between his teeth, wheezing it over their sharp, knifing points.] - oi, oi, oi. It wasn't about winning, Blues. [Another slip of melting snow trickles down the back of his neck and dives behind his vest.]
[He makes an effort to lean in, then; his whole body chasing after Michael's retreat like a shadow, stretching with sun. Greed bows his head and as his fingers loosen their grip, a faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.] Wouldn't have made a difference, y'know. If I won or not. That was never the point. [When he leans forward, he makes an effort to try to find Michael's forehead with his own; the touch of the jewel in his forehead warm despite the chill.] But I'll say one thing.
[Slowly, his eyes peel open and a shimmer of red teases behind them.]
It took you long enough.
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Even so, love and war will always go hand in hand.
But as much as he might be dwelling too harshly on the words, he is finally letting go. He is doing what everyone here has asked him to, to stop living for people other than himself when those people are not here. As unfamiliar as it might be, it does feel nice.
The smile on his face is almost boyish and his attire, at least his shirt, is partially untucked and lightly wrinkled. His hair? Unkempt. But the way Greed stands there without a word has him thinking he has over-stepped his boundaries. A disadvantage in a battle would normally have him retreating to find a better vantage point, where he could take the time to assess and troubleshoot.
He does not have that here, not when he feels his escape halted by claws. Not to rip or tear, but just to encourage him to stay. If he had a heart, it would be rattling in his chest like a pinball. As it stands, a breath that is unnecessary to take catches in his throat to give away his anticipation. ]
Don’t take part in a battle with that kind of attitude, things can change quickly.
[ A reprimand, sure, but his tone is soft and somewhat fond, as his hand finds the hand that grabbed him. For a moment, all he does is gingerly stroke at the claws, still wrapping his mind around the fact that he did this at all. To be so impulsive is unlike him. ]
I don’t know if it was the right choice, but it was a choice. My choice. Does that count for anything? [ Michael never tries to avoid his gaze. In fact, he seems to be looking so intently, like he expects the answer to his unease will be there. Only when he finds nothing does he start to shy away a fraction.
What is done is done and now he is at a loss. What happens now? Is it wrong of him to think that seeing him the following day won’t be a problem? He did not do this for a guarantee, not for a taste of something forbidden or any other frivolous claim. A kiss is typically reserved for humans, and they are not human, to breed connection, but it also be a show of respect.
No, even he knows he didn’t do this for that reason.
Should he apologize? No, at least not after he feels himself easing forward so their foreheads can meet. The warmth, as big a contrast as the man himself, has Michael sinking against him, his wings drawing back to reveal the display. He does not care who sees, that alone startles him.
Before making contact and closing his eyes, blue meets red as he takes in the glow. Quietly, more to himself than to his company: ]
Patience is a virtue.
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[Starting from the pinkie and moving up, Greed splays out his fingers. He keeps the hooks of his claws curled closer to the inside of his palm, leaving their soft edges open to the touch.] If we were really fighting, I don't think we'd be having this conversation, Blues. [His eyes sink heavy at the rims of his sunglasses. There's something almost unreadable about his look: the stillness as he follows after Michael's hand, the slight twitch in his gaze as the slits of his eyes widen, only to snap back to narrow, quaking points. The former homunculus flexes his toes in his boots. He can feel the chill biting at the leather, and it's enough to bring him back.]
[And bring him back, it does. The smile on his face is softer somehow. Kinder. Like the smooth side of steel, hiding its edge. A hum vibrates deafly in his chest.] Your choice, huh? [Greed catches Michael's stare. He thinks he can almost see those gears of his turning. Those endless thoughts racing against themselves, trying to justify every action on a set of scales that don't exist.]
[The Sin makes a sound in his nose.] Tch, does it count. That's a stupid question. [He tries to level the flat part of his thumb under Michael's chin as he feels his wings retreat. It's like the curtain is finally being pulled aside. And if someone happens to catch what's behind it? If someone gets a little peek? Well, it's not like he's ever been shy before.]
[Still, he makes an effort to pivot a bit. Michael's been as giving as he always is. It seems only fair that he returns the gesture. Greed twists his back, exposing it towards the windows of the hotel. It may not be a lot of privacy, but it's something.] Getting lost in that head of yours again, aren't you? [He slurs and as he tilts his chin, he lets the tip of his nose brush against Michael's.] I could tell you the same thing I always do. What's right and what's wrong never mattered to me, Blue Eyes. What matters is whether this is what you really want.
[Given how close he is, the Sin lets his words touch along Michael's lips. He's barely there and everywhere all at once; his presence more similar to steam, venting from a cold, iron grate. Greed peels his head away and as he tries to feel out the Archangel's lower lip with his thumb, the tip of his tail whisks at the snow, collecting up a small, powdery dusting.]
And you can't really call me virtuous. Besides, if it really bothers you, you can always blame it on that little problem of yours - [A sneer teases on his face. Of course, he's not being serious. Even if this whole thing had started as a way of distracting Michael, this? Whatever this is? He wouldn't change it for the world.]
[Doesn't mean he can't be a shit about it.]
[Greed nips at the corner of Michael's mouth before finally pulling away.] - now, before you get any more crazy ideas, think it's about time you head back upstairs, hmn? [Lifting his hand, the Sin slowly tries to push the Archangel's hair back. The man is a stickler for presentation, after all.] No point staying out here.
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On that you definitely know better, I’m an angel of many words. Even when I fight I try to minimize damage and talk my so-called enemies down. I might have limited what I said, but I would still talk to you openly like this.
[ The expression gives him pause because he has always been able to read him, much to the displeasure of the former homunculus. But here and now? He finds himself at a loss, as want isn’t typically something he deals with, not in this manner. If the circumstances were different, he might have teased him for the soft expression. For now, he quietly relishes in it. ] Yes, my choice. I have you to thank for that.
[ A laugh, a mere exhale through his nose, is all he gets about his bad habit while he tilts his head into the touch. Oh, his movements are a little awkward but he has the spirit. When they are nose to nose, he closes his eyes. ]
You could say that but you know it won’t do any good, and it is what I want. You’ll have to excuse the execution because, for once, I’m flying blind here. It’s strange, being close enough to smell and taste someone. A show of intimacy that I never thought I would take any part in.
[ Annd there he is, right back to the Sin he knows he is. The indignation is splashed across his face. ]
Ideas, he says. [ He scoffs at the insinuation, his feathers bristling behind him. There are no ideas in his head at the moment, just a vast, endless void of static and dial-up tones. Michael reaches up to touch the corner of his mouth where his teeth nipped, looking vaguely startled. ]
Banishing me to my room like a child, you’re very audacious, aren’t you? As it just so happens, I was planning on going back after I returned the vest. You should go back before Miss Kamora starts wondering where her prize is. I did text her to let her know you would be picking it up.
[ He closes his eyes, letting out a soft sigh at the fingers through his hair. Leave it to Greed to be mindful of his appearance for him, as well as try to protect his virtue. ]
Thank you for the distraction but, if I worried about someone seeing us, I wouldn’t have lowered my wings. Remember that. [ His voice drops to a whisper, his expression softening into something that almost comes off as tender. The small amount of embarrassment he will feel later is a problem for future Michael. ]
Goodnight, Greed.