It wasn’t quite satisfying to watch Raphael come back to himself and gradually abandon the all-consuming task of searching for Abel. In a sense it hurt Samson, to know that he was going to be the cause of their separation if all went as planned and they truly did make it out, to know that he was possible causing them both to suffer further. But, it was undeniable too, that he believed that it was the right thing to do. He had meant everything he said, Raphael really could do good and if they had the chance to get out, they had to take it.
Face split into a smile, more for Raphael’s sake than of his own amusement. Truthfully, he was more of a serious soul, he didn’t see much occasion for amusement in this prison of theirs, even less so in a moment like this. But then, Raphael had gone to the trouble of making a joke, attempting to inject levity into a situation that was nothing short of dire in Samson’s eyes. As much as he might have wanted to ignore it, he could not do such a thing, could not do anything that might discourage Raphael in any fashion. He was trying to build the other up, get him to leave with him, not tear him down.
Head shook slightly, accompanying the smile, a touch grateful that he could remember something positive of his past for once, instead of Delilah, a simply personal rejoinder to Raphael’s levity. “I grew up with six sisters,” he said lightly, “I had to learn to fight for what I wanted with words first and foremost. Otherwise, I would have been dressed for tea parties rather than simply forced to participate in them. Though I didn’t always win and I wore my fair share of dresses when I small enough for ‘em.” As he spoke the amusement in his voice at the memory clearly shined through. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought from his childhood, a reminder of the fact that it had been idyllic once.
The fact that the sound that escaped the other was a cross between a laugh and a sob was not lost on him. However, he was’t sure what he could say that would make it any better, and so opted to say nothing at all. After all, what good was offering the other comfort for something that was undeniably awful, while also having no particular experience with it? Instead he opted to nod in acknowledgment of the other’s final decision, glad that he didn’t have to outright push the man from a stand still into following him. And at the sentiment that followed, about any of the demons following after them, he had to suppress himself from tacking on Delilah, unwilling to put a voice to a thought he had already had if only because it might make it more true than it already was. He was afraid that Delilah would exclusively seek him out, the same way Cain sought after Abel each and every time.
Legs moved at the prompt, in a somewhat quick stride, though certainly not running (it wasn’t time for that yet), heading towards the exit to the cell block area, moving towards any area that would bring them closer to out, head moving from side to side slowly as he tried to make sense of everything he was seeing, jumbled and fogged as it was. As they went, he spoke once more, voice a little more clipped now with the urgency of it all. “Can you keep sharp eyes out for the demons?” he asked, glancing to Raphael and tapping near his own as he continued. “Mine aren’t quite up for scouting.”
A snort came from him at the thought of Samson in rouge and lace, being terrorized by six sisters as he frantically tried to get away from pleas of tea parties, which to him sounded far more pleasant than the other man made it out to be; being an only child made for some lonely times, and any mention of siblings always lifted his spirits. The idyll of family life that the other had made him ache for his own, the dream of a white picket fence and a dog at the front porch seemed only accessible for humans, for people who could just be, but not for him. After all, war-scarred angels made for terrible fathers, or so he thought at least.
Clapping him on the back, he gave him a bright smile at the attempt to at least inject some kind of happiness into the desolate situation that they have both been put in, though half of that smile was still from the thought of Samson in chiffon dresses probably meant for a baby. It was a welcome distraction from both the chaos that surrounded them and the knowledge, the horrible knowledge that he had left the love of his life behind for some demon to prey upon. He could only pray that it would be Cain, or Gabriel, for they were close to the both of them and might show mercy where in the Devil’s eyes, none was deserved.
“I’m sure you looked rather cute in that dress---too bad Polaroids were never around back then; do you supposed I could interest you in a photoshoot if we ever get out?” He could practically see it now, Samson in a wedding dress with lace and any makeup that they could find so as to boost the morale of the troops over at RECON. "Handsewn lace, and I’m sure I could find some type of shoe to fit you well, you might as well look good even when there’s some levity involved. And I know how to put on makeup well enough; thank God for my days at Stonewall, am I right?”
He was about to pass some meaningless tirade about Stonewall or how Samson would look in some nice kitten heels scrounged up from a scorched boutique somewhere when he heard fluttering of feather and wind nearby---and sure enough, the guards were in full swing, ready to beat down on the ensuing chaos. His blood ran utterly cold and his legs kicked into action, for what was he good at if not running away after all; cowardice was bred into him ever since the day he first took a breath of air. He needed to get them out, and fast for it seemed that while they were intent on control, they would have no qualms to kill, and living seemed a better option than having his head sundered from his shoulders at the moment.
“Move. Now.” It was an order, harsh and unheard of coming from him, as he was used to friendly jibes and flirtation around the Yard itself, but the sense of urgency dictated otherwise. He was not going to get them caught now, not while there was a chance of freedom. “Demons are about to get to the crowd, we need to go.”
