While Bliss and Caine chatted softly and woman they knew by the name of Medea came in to join them, there was a soft discussion going on between two people in common circumstances with vastly different upbringings. The gang held a variety of members...
Azrael and Salomae talked of how she had an education up until she was thirteen and that he had pretty much stopped being officially taught anything when he was one year old. He strummed his stringed instrument while they spoke.
"I dunno what I'd do if onna these strings broke. Prolly kill myself or something," Azrael told her.
"You would have the instrument fixed, my dear," Sal said quietly, knowingly.
"By who? You know anyone who has a spare... uh... whatever-this-thing-is string?"
"No, but I would find out."
He looked at her, blinking, as if she were something etheral, unreal, angelic. "You would? You'd do that fer me?"
"Of course, Azrael."
"Wow. I just didn't think ya the helpin' type. At least, not to a bum like me."
"Azrael, I consider you a friend."
"An' I consider you a friend, too. But that doesn't stop me from bein' a bum."
She gave him a gentle smile. "You are a very pleasant bum to be with."
"Really? ::breaks out into a wide, pearly wide, straight smile, not something you see much of these days:: Well, thanks. Fer what it's worth, I think yer a nice college professor type ta be with, too.
"College professor type?" She chuckled. "Not nearly, Azrael."
"Ya sure talk pretty, s'fer sure."
"Thank you very much for the compliment, Azrael, but there are several things I have yet to learn."
"It's tha same fer all of us. Can't ever learn everything. Yer just closer than most of us."
"Not in every way. . . I do not know how to play that instrument, Azrael. I cannot expel emotion as easily as you."
"But that ain't smarts. That's just," he shifted in his seat, the instrument toning softly. "I dunno, different. Don't teach ya that stuff in schools, 'least what I understand of 'em."
"On the contrary, Azrael. Education is a good thing, but it is wise to remember from time to time that nothing worth knowing can be taught."
He shrugged. "I guess. But still..." And his sigh was eloquent where he was not.
"It is most often the subjects not taught in school that end up most desired by the general public."
"I guess. But that doesn't keep ya from bein' a college type, does it?"
"I suppose not. My schooling ended at age fourteen, in any case. No. . .it was. . ." she went on with some confusion in her eyes. "Thirteen, I think. Thirteen or fourteen." She yanked a strand of hair from her head with a sharp movement.
"Psh, mine ended at age one. End of story." He shrugged. "Don't really matter. Good thing we got someone with brains in the gang, else we'd end up like the rest of 'em, destroyed from the inside out."
She let a gentle smile caress her lips. "I suppose so. . ."
"Not that I'd care if that buncha murderin', rapin' freaks broke up... But..." He thought. "Well, I guess I wanna see 'em around fer yer sake, Sal."
She almost laughed. "For my sake?" And what exactly is this supposed to mean?"
"I dunno... if there's anything that buncha creeps does right, they protect ya. I wanna see ya protected."
"Azrael, I care for your physical safety as well, but I do believe that I can care for myself."
He raised a brow. "Not ta be critical... but can ya fight?"
"To some extent. And I do believe that Wraith would pop up in a time of need. . .like magic. He always seems to do that."
"S'true. If he cares for anything, it's you. Says somethin' about ya, dontcha think, Sal?"
"And what would this be?" She had one brow raised in an odd position but it didn’t stop him from answering her.
"Yer important to us, Sal. Yer... " He shifted, struggling for the words his uneducated mind could never give him. "Well... Important. S'all I can think of."
Her voice dropped low. "Thank you, Azrael."
"Yer welcome," he nodded solemnly.
"You cannot know how much that means to me." Az coughed a bit, nervous with the whole subject. Sal rose lightly to her feet to bend down again long enough to press a brief kiss against his lips. Calmly, she sat again on the floor, cross-legged.
He blinked. And then, for lack of something better to do, he blinked again, struck strongly by the kiss. "Uh... " He shook his head. "Uh... thanks. That's..." C’mon, breathe, Az, breathe, he told himself. "Well, it's just... I've never done that before."
"I understand."
A grin flickered at the corner of his mouth. "Well, thanks, Sal. All I can say is... well, I needed that. Makes me know why people still struggle to live through this hell." She smiled softly, her understanding in her eyes. And he sighed. "But you realize I didn't just say that so you'd do that. I meant it. And so does Wraith, but the cold bastard'd never admit it." He felt so good just then that he chuckled.
"Yes. . .Wraith is a very enigmatic young man."
"He's so weird... he has all this stuff inside him... But he clams up when you try an' talk about it. An' he's vicious in a fight, an' a merciless assassin... but he's a good guy, once ya get ta know 'im." Az shook his head in dismay.
"He does not like admitting to his sensitivity. . ."
"Yeah," he nodded right along with what she said. "Yeah, s'what I mean.
"But that is not really a flaw, I suppose. Merely a fact."
"Makes 'im good at what he does, which I could never do. I could beat 'im in a fair fight, prolly. But with Wraith, it ain't never a fair fight." He grinned to himself at that and she didn’t seem to find it as amusing, though she offered up a slim smile. "But y'prolly don't wanna hear 'bout our stupid figthin' an' stuff."
"I do, in all honesty."
He looked at her. She seemed sincere in that but he shrugged, disbelieving. "Well... I could go on an' on about my techniques an' stuff, but you'd just get bored."
"Go ahead. What else will we talk about?"
"Well, if ya insist..." he shrugged again as though it wouldn’t matter to him if she weren’t interested. Though somewhere, deep down, it may have just. "Most people like fightin' with their fists an' feet, which is fine, but there's so much other stuff y'can do.
She listened intently, hoping to pick some knowledge up out of this as they rose together and headed for the exit. Az picked up his instrument once again and placed it on his lap, tapping his chin in thought. Then he stood, looped it over his back with the black nylon strap attached. He moved to the door, his boots tapping on on the tiled floor, but the monotonous sound was drowned out by the commotion of the Hospital lobby... the chaos of an entire shattered world as it was centered on one building and its wearied staff.
"Elbows an' knees are deadly," he began. "'specially if you get up close to the guy an' clinch 'im, so he can't move; then ya can pound away on 'is kidneys with her knees and at his head with yer elbows." He stepped through the doors, out into the night, and breathed in the air heartily. A gunshot in the distance, followed by a woman's scream made him mutter quietly, "Ah. Home, sweet home." Together they moved into the darkness and were gone.