No, not a soldier. But perhaps I could manage being a spy...she stared at the tiled floor, his hulking presence simultaneously stressful and reassuring. I'm not this desperate for company. I need to stick to 'stressful' – and soon, forget all about him. And her. The memory of Silver was vivid in her mind, a frightened child who could have, surely, been saved.

"Who is she?" she blurted, not even able to make it sound in the slightest bit casual. He looked down at her, suspicious, and she instantly wished she could take the words back.

"Her? What 'her'? Silver? She ain't nothin', Feathers."

That wasn't a helpful answer. Clearly he had no lost love for her, either way. He sighed, and perched next to her on the edge of the bed.

"Alright, she's some kid who's new, who got in the wrong fight, didn't know what she was doin', pathetic, really. Ended up down here. Brought her down m'self. Angry. Stupid kid. No ambition, nothin', a mess. An' now she's..." he trailed off, sneering. "My boss' little project. She ain't nobody, Feathers. Don't think about her." He looked at her. "She been down here again?"

"Yep," she confirmed. Might as well, there's no secret there from the sound of it, think he knew already. But there's more to her than that. Poor little thing. But it's like she can't remember who she is. She's lost...she's scared, I'm sure. But really...I think he is, too. And that thought was so huge, so painful, she couldn't focus on it with him there next to her. You'd never know, from looking at him; he looked like he shouldn't be afraid of anything, at all, ever, like he could charge a brick wall and take no damage from it, but even in the short time she'd been around him – there was something, some unhappiness, in his eyes she couldn't quite make out or understand, but she felt it. His eyes had narrowed in the meantime, however. We all share work and responsibility - if I'm 'work'! But I guess they don't... 

"It's awful here," she said, tentatively. "Everyone is alone."

He barked a laugh. "Everyone's always alone, if yer face don't fit, if ya ain't willin' to throw yer life away for nothin', that's the sort of thing everyone likes, ain't it? People're stupid, an' selfish. They want a pretty face an' don't care what's under it. So I like it here. Suits me. I got what I want. It's simple, Feathers. Ya got power an' they can't hurt ya." He paused after that statement, before carrying doggedly on, more aggressively, "Bein' at the top, that's all there is, Feathers. Don't give me this friendship crap. Like that means anythin' when it gets down to it." He glowered at her. "Trust me. I know. They expect ya to follow in with their stupid plans for nothin'..." His fists balled at his sides, staring into nothing. And now he'd started, he didn't seem able to stop. "No matter how hard ya try, they never see..." His expression hardened. "They will, now."

She stared at his profile. If he'd been anyone else, anyone but a demon, she would have put a hand on his arm, something, anything, some touch, to show him he was wrong, he wasn't alone...but she couldn't, could she? And besides...demon. The key word here is demon... then why was her heart twisting like this? "I'm so sorry," she whispered, uselessly, because what else could she say?

He looked down at her, an ugly twist of a smile on his face. "For what? Ain't none of yer doin'. An' it all ended up alright, right?"

No, she wanted to say, but there she knew when to draw the line. They sat in silence for a minute – strangely, not an awkward one, just thoughtful. That was the weirdest thing. In spite of that outburst, in spite of his very nature, she didn't feel afraid around him, not really. What does that mean? Some weird interim peace. It wouldn't last, but for the moment, it felt – wearily companionable. Human.

He bounced the bag with the syringe full of her blood on his palm. "So. You happy in heaven? Playin' the minion? All holy an' perfect?"

A raw spot in her chest twinged slightly. The antsy sense of white lies and misaimed emotion. "It's good knowing it's for a good cause at the end of the day," she said, non-committally. He raised an eyebrow.

"Ya don't sound so sure?"

Don't do this. Don't pour out your worries to a damned demon. Do not even go here. Stop. This is one step away from Stockholm Syndrome. Even if you know you're about to escape. She made herself look up into his dark, deep-set eyes, wanting to fear him, wanting to hate him, something to stop the urge to talk to him, but they just looked so impossibly, painfully human, a rich dark brown and devoid of the usual mocking nastiness; just curious. "It's fine," she made herself say. "Everyone wonders sometimes, don't they?" She decided to ignore the fact that if there was one thing you didn't doubt, it was the goodness of heaven. Maybe it's because I'm a human, at heart, still, even now. I'm missing something. I'm messing up being an angel. I look at humans like...I'm one of them. Like they're equal to me...like they're better than me. And that simply isn't the case any more. Her stomach flipped over, a sick pressure at the back of her throat making her want to gag for second. She fought the urge, forced herself to breathe again.

"We got this back to front," he said, ironically, waving his free hand. "Hell's the place to be an' yer all 'heaven's givin' me stress'." She smiled in spite of herself.

"Nothing's ever easy, is it?" Silver's blue eyes drifted through her mind's eye again. Sympathy for the devil.

"True, that," he said. For a moment he looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead he just shook his head, stood up, pushed back a few strands of long dark hair, turned away from her. "Enough chit-chattin', anyway. You must be bored as, down here."

She nodded, even though he couldn't see her. "A bit." When I'm not panicking or plotting my escape, anyway. Lurching from terrified mania to obsessive planning fills the day.

He turned back, gave her a long look, and stuck his head out the door, whistled shrilly. She stared at his back in confusion, but a moment later the guard demon from the end of the hall marched up to the door, stared at his superior in confusion for a moment. She took the opportunity to study the guard – he was a bit closer to her height than her towering captor, thank heavens. This'll be OK. I can manage to handle him if I'm quick and I - hah, use my advantage! - I'm sure of it. I have to do this... the two demons exchanged a few words, and after a moment the guard came back and passed over a stack of papers, expression disapproving but servile. He saluted and left.

He turned back to her. "Here. Keep ya quiet. Knock yerself out, Feathers." She took the newspapers numbly, gratefully, the mere touch seeming like a connection to the world outside, to something outside of the four walls.

"Thank you," she whispered, but he'd already slammed the door and left.