Josette had been staring - beryl irises fixated upon the man that had inconsiderately and drunkenly fondled her despite her earnest protests of fear and unsought, as the security dragged him further away from the duo that had been involved in the ludicrous happenings. Alistor cast his glance over his shoulder as well, meeting what she had been watching; the guards and Carnival assistants tidying the mess that the Medium and the, for the lack of better names to call him, pervert had created. Caked crimson and shards of fragmented glass visualized a grotesque setting of the once peaceful and well-decorated box at which the Angel begrudgingly flaunted her wings.
Her voice had broken him from his reverie, all attentions completely upon her as she whispered through the air, her voice just barely reaching his ears and he strained to hear her. In her hysteria, Alistor had shaken his head, wanting no more than to disperse whatever distance was between the pair of them and envelop her within strong and lacerated arms to obscure her from the impurities of the world. “And I would have done it a thousand times over should that meant keeping you safe, Josette.” He had genuinely meant it; he would have rapturously gone up against that man again unarmed, regardless if the other had wielded the broken glass or not. He would strive for his victory and walk away with the wounds of a battle just as he formerly did, and wear them with pride.
And as she had elaborated her fright, trepidations faulted by the man that had maliciously assaulted her, her fingers wrapped around his wrist and her cheek leaning into the palm of his hand, Alistor was quite proud of his consequential actions. If it had been a much less serious predicament and he had acted the way he had, he may have regretted them - and now? There wasn’t a tinge of remorse, and he found himself quite earnestly, and secretly, hoping his fists had done permanent damage to that mans face in a feeble reminder. “He was a pig,” the medium said rather bluntly, a deadpanned tone that had eclipsed the disgust and malice felt toward the drunken assailant, “I don’t believe you’d like to think of the other intentions he may have had. And I’m glad I got to him before anything else had happened.” Of course he had known, albeit the innocence shrouding his angel may have obscured her from not - sober or not, Alistor was male, and his gender tended to have repulsive thoughts.
The pain was elementary as she sterilized his wounds with the dampened cloth of cleansing alcohol, washing any traces of lingering and caking blood from his pale skin with a nurturing touch. It was almost ironic how she may have been more worried for his well being rather than her own, when it was her whom had just previously been assaulted. A nearly unfathomable thought; the good in her heart was almost too good to be true, and Alistor felt himself longing and desiring for such a familiar feeling. His own had run cold upon past experiences, as though dunked in water far too Siberian and instantaneously frozen - even pumping blood was not enough. “It is quite the gift you got yourself there,” He agreed with a laugh of his own, more than glad to be hearing such a sound emit from the shaken female before him as she healed his wounds; lacerations that would surely scar in the near future. “How could you say that you’re not a pure angel with that ability?”
It was a query he would have liked to know the answer too, as he had always believed it was almost comical for her not to believe so. Her kisses, gentle presses of lips against once inflamed skin was soothing and left the lightest of tingles in their wake and absconded him with an rather familiar urge - her grasp of his arm turned nearly vice, but he hadn’t questioned it. His hand brought up to his face, fingertips brushing over the small assortment of cuts upon his cheek, and his split lip. “It’s nothing too serious, just stings..” He trailed off, eyes staring intently at hers, and his voice nothing higher than a whisper.
