A martyr and the damned

He would have had it no other way either. Well, he had a feeling he would hear about it later but then again Samael was known for dong what he wanted regardless of what most people thought. A man who thought himself a monster and a monster in the making, quite the pair they made. Not that he minded too much, though some might have even said that he was blind within a sense. He did find himself a little emotionally hit when the feeling of being missed was returned, even if it was likely just something being said.

”Yeah, you’re one of the few people I probably can trust. Glad the feeling is mutual, even if I am...whatever I am.” Without thinking about it, the glass within his hand shattered into fragments that slipped through his fingers. They didn’t cut him, but they did  prove annoying with the fluid that it once held. Samael ran his fingers through his hair, looking down at the small glittering fragments. ”Sorry...I...just a little stressed is all.” He sighed, wiping away the liquid on his palm against his pants.

”You can fly right? Wanna go for a little fly tonight?” He asked, standing up and stretching a little. He felt the same tingling sensation within his back, and had a feeling what that meant. The wings had manifested once when he was on the run, and they proved a saving grace when it came to escaping. Placing a few bills on the counter, and motioned for Ashley to follow him. This meant mostly walking into the small alleyway behind the place, Samael removing his leather jacket, and removing his shirt with a few motions, a blue of black motion causing large black feathered wings to form from his back.

They drew close to his pal figure, likely a new thing for Ashley. ”Pretty neat, right?” He asked with a smirk.

Sammy seemed nervous, and Martyr blushed. He wasn't sure why he was so... off his game tonight. But maybe it had something to do with Sammy. Sammy the mentioned that he could trust him and Martyr's stomach filled with butterflies.

Sammy then broke his glass and Martyr took his hand to make sure he was alright. Once Martyr was satisfied he was unhurt, and Sammy was okay. He nodded at the explanation. It was sad though. He actually liked the bartender here. He nodded to one of his henchmen who went into the back with the bartender in tow. Martyr only smiled.

Sammy then spread his wings, which was a new one for Martyr. He hadn't exactly expected for something like this to happen. He looked  at the wings in awe. He then smiled and nodded. "Really neat, Sam." He said chuckling. He took Sammy's hand and led him outside where Martyr began floating.

Gunshots were heard inside, but Martyr didn't even flinch. It was like he knew they were coming.

Samael had no idea what he was expecting from Ashley, but he did find him doing what was a little better than what the normal people would have done. Black feathered wings stretched out, seeming as if they could have done with a little more activity with how they moved about. Ashley took his hand, causing what he felt like was a skip within his own heart. Really, get a hold of yourself. He chastised himself internally, rising with the floating man in a couple of beats of the wings. It seemed an easy thing for him to do, breaking the bonds of gravity and rising with the other male. He took a small time to tie his shirt and jacket around his waist, mostly to avoid having to set them down for later.

For a few seconds he could pretend that his life hadn’t fallen into hell. That he wasn’t a criminal but just a person. Even if it was someone that was molding themselves into a criminal, even then he felt he could forgive that. It was weakness as his father would say, but a weakness that he welcomed with open arms. Sometimes, weakness felt nice. ”Despite how much people call this the city of sin, it’s actually nice from up here.” He mentioned, as the city stretched out beneath them, the shot of a gun only really a vague sensation within his hearing. Death was nothing to him.

In a sense he felt a future that could rise, even if it meant he had to hurt people rather than helping them once.

Did he really have any other choice to begin with?

”To the future and one city under the iron fist of Martyr.” He said with what looked to be a grin, before Sammy realized that his glasses had fallen off halfway within their ascent, explaining why the dark tint had gone. Letting the moment guide him, along with the booze that tinged his blood, Samael hooked an arm around Ashley, the one not holding his only good one and pulled him into a kiss.

"Yeah, it's... One of my favorite things." Martyr said smiling. "The way the lights dance against the desert sand..."

Martyr became lost in thought. Samael was his best friend. But... Maybe more? He hadn't put a lot of thought into it before the prison. But... There was always something hidden underneath his exterior. Maybe this was just a natural progression, right?

He looked into Samaels black eyes. "Hear, hear!" He shouted a little louder than he had meant to, but he didn't care. The booze wanted him to scream it out loud. He was agreeing with the booze.

Suddenly, he was being kissed. At first, he tried to fight it. More out of instinct than anything. Then he returned it.

Samael somewhere had expected rejection, and it did come in the form of slight resistance but in the end it was returned. He couldn’t help feeling a little off, though in the best way that was possible. If anything, he could recognize this sensation that was hitting him. Each time no less pleasant than before, and it made him forget for a moment what he was. However the golden moment did end, despite how great it was, and yet here he was still with an arm around someone that could snap him like a twig, a glimmer taking root within eyes black like the cosmos.

As if a single star had taken root.

”Always had wondered how that would go but...I like it.” A smile had formed, not whatever casual smirk that normally rested there. If he had seen himself in the mirror, he would have been confused by such an event. ”So, I was thinking that maybe we could find a nice….whatever  food joint they have around here, talk a bit more about business. I’m sure the future overlord of Vegas might know a few good places that make edible food.” He added with a sly tone, not really wanting to admit that he hadn’t eaten in a few days.

”I’m feeling partial towards Italian myself, but i’m not picky really.”