A Hard Day's Night [ari & chi][mature][fin]

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Ari mentally kicked herself, gathering her poise to herself once more and sat straight, though keeping her glowing hazel eyes trained upon his precious face. She brushed a piece of her warm chocolate hair from her eyes and smiled, now calm and collected. The musk of the bar was beginning to get to her, make her head clouded. She glanced around and saw that there weren't many patrons left hanging around, and she turned back to Chi.

He had called her something in a different language and she was pensively curious as to what he'd said. But he'd put the word my in front of it, and that made her smile, regardless of what the word was. Oh, I'll look it up later, she thought to herself. She'd spoken Italian to him, after all, and he hadn't seemed to understand a word she'd said, thankfully.

When he asked her what she did, she chuckled. "I don't really work," she said, chewing on her lip, an old habit that had yet to die hard. She glanced around the bar again, and then back to Chi.

"Would you be opposed to going for a walk?" Ari asked, tensely. The air in the bar was grating on her nerves, making her not want to breath. While she technically had no need to either inhale or exhale, she hated to be without her keen sense of smell. Aside from her telepathy, it was her keenest sense.

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Malachi watched the woman collect herself, and tried to do the same, his wings once more retreating closer into his back. She laughed in response to his question, which he thought a good sign. His own cheeks were still rather pink, though. He hadn't done the love/relationship/flirting thing in...well. It had been ages ago, which to Malachi was a literal phrase and not a figurative one. Perhaps he should tread lightly around this woman? He wasn't sure what the hell to do with her, actually.

"Of course not, sorry. Apparently I've been spending a great deal of my time with mortals lately." He smiled as well, chuckling slightly at such a ridiculous question to ask a vampire he knew had to be over...well, probably around 400 years, he thought, but his conception of time was a bit rusty. Years faded and slipped into one another in the realm of memory. The angel watched the vampire chew her lip, and then looked around the bar as she did, obviously still not quite sure how to react.

"Of course not. Fresh air sounds wonderful, actually." The angel, now attempting to be a mite more perceptive with his blood-eating friend, noticed the tenseness in her voice, and wondered what it was that had her on edge. He stood, then, happy to get outside under the wide sky, where winged folk naturally felt more comfortable. "Shall we?"

The door was only a few steps away, and once the door was opened to the clean air outside Malachi could not stop himself from taking a deep breath, his wings stretching themselves out to their full length for but a moment on the sidewalk before furling back into his back, more loosely now that he was distracted from his troubles by the vamp. "Did you have somewhere in mind to go?"

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Ari stood, following Malachi out of the bar and into the fresh night air. She inhaled deeply, letting the stark night wash its way through her lungs and she couldn't help but be breath-taken by the angel's glorious wings as he spread them out to their full extent.

"You're lucky," she said with a smile, as she played with the cord her sword was wrapped around. "I love the sky." She glanced up whistfully, watching the stars twinkle. She looked back down at him, still struck by his innocent and classic beauty. He was like a painting that was timeless, ageless and completely removed from the everyday struggles of the living, breathing Earth. But Ari knew that that was not the case. This man, this vessel was a part of something much, much larger.

"I couldn't breathe in the bar," she said, taking a step closer to him. "I mean, that's not to say I need to breathe at all," another step, " but it does rather hinder my sense of smell. I have no heartbeat," taking yet another tentative step forward, her heeled boots making an ominous clipping sound on the concrete. "I am by all rights, technically dead, you know," she said, raising an eyebrow. She wasn't trying to scare him off, just tell him about herself. Show him who she really was. "I haven't seen the sun in almost 400 years."

She took another step closer to him, their bodies now barely centimeters from being completely pressed together. She inhaled deeply, taking in his scent, an Earthy, beautiful smell. She tilted her head up and looked deep into his eyes, a wry smile on her flawless face. "Did you know that Araceli means 'altar of heaven' in Italiano?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, their lips almost coming together. She breathed in again, committing his scent to memory and then backed off, ten feet away from him in a flash, a sly smile on her face.

She reached out her hand for him to take in his saying, "I want to show you my favorite part in all of the city," her hair picking up at the ends in the slight breeze.

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Malachi watch, speechless, as Araceli continued to step closer and closer to him, listening to her speak, half-entranced. The things she spoke of were chilling to him. As a creature of the light, the idea of being trapped in eternal night was unfathomably horrific to him, a heartwrenching thing. It made him want to hug the poor woman and hold her 'till she could stand the sun again. He held himself back, though, alternately disgusted and enthralled by her very nature.

The angel inhaled as she took the final step, closing the distance between them to bare centimeters, studying those hazel eyes of hers. She smelled of sharp spice and iron, vanilla and sandalwood. It was an intoxicating smell, and the angel had to fight the urge to put an arm round the girl, or at least take her by the arm. And her eyes-- they bored into him like hot coals, as if trying to impress themselves into his permanently, to convey some message that he couldn't read just yet. "I.."

But no, she spared him the mental struggle over reaching out and whisked away faster than he could quite follow. He stepped back almost defensively at the display of speed, feeling like a marionette. Should he stay here with this woman? Was it a bad idea, or good? Could he help her, or would she harm him, inadvertently or not? She had not led him awry yet, though, and it did not seem to the innocent angel that she would. Still, he was concerned. Malachi didn't want to get carried away.

She offered him her arm. To take the plunge, or not? His better nature warned him against it, but he couldn't resist the idea that following the rabbit hole down could be to fruitful end. Malachi couldn't help it, though; he reached out to her, only to pause.

"I...I can't, I'm sorry. You're a vampire, you kill the people I'm here to protect. I..." It obviously pained the angel to say such a thing, his extended hand faltering and then retreating ever so slightly, the open palm curling into a closed hand. Malachi's other hand raised to run through his hair as the extended arm sunk to rest by his side. "I just can't go with you, Araceli. I'm torn-- you're different from the others, but there is one thing I cannot ignore, and that is murder." A heavy sigh escaped the magnificent creature.

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"...there is one thing I cannot ignore, and that is murder."

She turned her body to face him, a slight smirk on her face. She walked to him again, once more drawing close, though not within a hair's breadth this time. There was a small distance between the two, but even that seem like too much. "Angelo sciocco," she murmered, reaching a hand up to stroke the side of his face, "you don't listen, do you?" She inched just the tiniest bit closer, once more taking in his heedy scent with a reverie she could hardly control.

She dropped her hand back down to her side, smiling at him widely. "I told you I was different." She looked into his eyes, her own eyes smiling with the feeling of being near him. He exuded goodness. And that was something Ari hadn't come across in a long while. She been exposed to all of the darkness in the world, and all of the burdens of that darkness. "Just because I'm a Vampire, doesn't automatically make me a murderer." She took his hand up in hers and brushed it across her cheek and lips, kissing his palm softly. "I've never killed a human, in all my 400 years, I swear to it." She was being completely honest with the angel. She'd never had a big penchant for lying, but she felt as if she were completely unable to do it in his presence regardless.

"The man who sired me, Kale Lucani, left me, soon after I was made. He was a bastard of a man, worth nothing. I was very, very near death when my second sire found me, for I refused to drink the blood of humans. Logan Darc was a nefarious cur, but he showed me how to live without killing. Logan taught me 'La Piccola Bevanda,'" she explained, releasing his hand from her grasp and taking a small step back. She did not want to make him uncomfortable, regardless of how close she desired to be to him. "That means 'The Little Drink,' in Italian. I merely took small drinks from humans and left them completely alive, and without remembrance of the event. But when they made synthetic blood, that solved all my problems. I've been living off what one could call 'fake blood' since it was created."

She took another step forward, not being able to help herself and said, "I may not be a beauteous angel, such as yourself, but I do greatly value what humanity I've been allowed to retain. "

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Malachi froze, almost sad-eyed, as she approached him again. He felt the world move around him, but he seemed a statue, even his fine chestnut hair hardly wavering in the mild breeze. She said something that he could deduce from her tone, but wasn't sure of the exact meaning-- silly angel, it must mean. She put a hand to his face again, delicate and cool, a touch that made his heart flutter despite himself. Chi took in a small, smooth breath, his eyes locked on hers once more. He smelled of snow and incense, like a temple in an alpine forest.

Her hand dropped as one of his own arms slid back a bit, the coolness of that gold-bronze bracer on his wrist, (an accoutrement often forgotten about but never missing from his person,) pressing through his shirt and into his abdomen. It was a welcome, eye-opening contrast to the heat that was rising in his skin. For once, he did not quite return her smile, not yet. In fact, he mostly looked confused when she said that vampiricism did not make her a murderer.

Araceli's quick hands pulled his arm from his side, molding the muscled angel like putty. He could only watch, entranced, as she caressed and kissed his hand, flashes of memories from eons ago flittering through that ancient mind, of a similar dark-haired woman in the shadows of the cedars of Lebanon. In fact-- yes, Araceli was terrifically similar to that memory-woman, enough that Malachi felt as though he might follow her anywhere she called him to, just to chase shadows and dust made real.

"Never?" the angel inquired, mildly dumbstruck, before letting her continue with her story. She spoke a little, and then stepped back. He felt something in him relax, but there was still some jitteriness in him. It was the feeling you get after you stick your finger in an electrical socket. It's sharp at first, and surprising, but leaves you energized and tingley, eyes wide and head buzzing. The angel's wings fluttered behind him again, as though he was released from a spell. She continued speaking, and he listened with cautious interest.

When she'd finished, he sighed, looking down into the woman who again stood so close to him. She was so like-- she even smelled of sandalwood--
but Malachi pressed those memories back into the darkness of reverie, where they belonged, instead of the present. "I...I'm sorry, Araceli. You're right, I've been short-sighted. I should not assume like that, but I honestly have never met nor heard of anyone who has lived a life like yours."

Those angelic eyes beheld her with a sense of wonder, trying to fathom what this woman's life had been like, going on 400 years of defying the nature of her kind. Of course he couldn't doubt her, not being who he was. Malachi was deeply curious now-- she had sparked his visceral interest before, but now he was curious about her at a different level. His face broke once more into the kind, tired smile that was more typical of him. "Forgive me?"

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Ari smiled sweetly at him when he asked her to forgive him. She put a hand to her chin in a mock "thoughtful" expression and then smiled, her teeth gleaming in the shadowy street.

"I think I can do that," she said, their bodies still comfortably close to one another. She was about to take his hand in hers when a foul smell made its appearance in the air. She cocked her head in the direction she thought it was coming from, her brow furrowed in a puzzled gaze.

She didn't know how well the angel's senses functioned in this mortal body, but she wondered briefly if he could smell the poignant odor as well as she was able to. She turned around, her back now to Malachi and took in the air once more, when suddenly it hit her. She let out a heavy hiss, automatically lowering her stance into that of a defensive position, as if to guard the angel from whatever it was that thought they could attack her.

The smell that was making her nose tingle was hatred. Sheer, unabashed, volatile hatred. She was starting to pick up on the images coming from the approaching attacker's head, small glimpses of his poorly thought out plan. She lifted her arm up, prepared to reach for the pistol holstered on her back, when the first bullet hit her, lodging itself deep in her shoulder. The second came not seconds later, penetrating her chest and three more hit almost simultaneously, in various point on her abdomen. She hissed in response, blood seeping from the wounds, and her fangs extended to their full length.

She fell to the ground, the sting of pure silver working its way through her veins, making her writhe on the pavement. She yelled out in pain, one arm gripping her torn shoulder. As cloudy as her vision was, she could still hear the coming footsteps of her attacker, a male to be sure, the overwhelming stink of triumph seeping out of his head. He pulled the gun on her, aiming straight for the head, and she felt as though she couldn't move a muscle. He cocked the pistol he carried and she could almost hear the barreling of a last bullet, one that would be her demise.

She turned her head away and whimpered, uttering softly the singular word, "Malachi..." before her consciousness failed her and her vision became a total black.

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Malachi was just grinning at her little joke when the vampiress before him seemed to become very acutely distracted. He couldn't sense whatever it was that had set Araceli off, nor could he see what it was that had her turning, and then hissing. "צִפּוֹרָה, what..?"

The angel couldn't see what was going on until she moved to grab her pistol and the first shots were fired by their attacker. Malachi heard five, and all sounded like they hit, but they came so close together that he was unable to react until the woman was on the ground, writhing and crying out. His first instinct was to grab the girl up into his arms and fly to safety to heal her, but the shooter was suddenly there. He bent to the ground for but a moment, surprise and concern written like a banner across his face. But the man was there-- the angel's pretty head flipped up, eyes locking on the shooter's. They were hard and cold, filled with a holy anger that was frightening to behold.

A quick, heavy flap of those gigantic white wings, spread at an alarming speed to their full width, sent him in a rolling front flip towards the man with his pistol pointed at Araceli's head. Malachi, an expert if ever there was one in unarmed, nonlethal combat, swept the gun from the man's hand with a very heavy chopping blow to the tendon in his upper forearm. His other elbow moved to take a crack at the attacker's sternum to distract him until the first hand could return to deliver a pointed, measured blow to the temple.

The angel had to stop to breathe for a moment after the knee-jerk response, a cursory glance confirming that the man would be out for at least a little while. He shook his head for a moment, and then turned to collect the mostly spent gun and stuff it into the front waistband of his pants.

All in all, it was hardly a minute between when Araceli had been shot and when Malachi was there by her side, her assailant laying like a sleeping drunk on the sidewalk until he could be better dealt with. It might've been a terrifying thing to watch, an angel of Malachi's character suddenly wailing on some thug's ass, but for the tender, frightened look of his when he saw how bad Araceli had been hurt. "Ah, shit, shit..."

The angel of mercy continued cursing his way through several languages as his hands began to glow, the blues of his eyes glimmering away into a uniform white light. Instinctively, Malachi had his wings spread around the two, his hands and holy magic working as one to try to extract the five bullets that'd wedged themselves inside of the little woman, distress clear on the man's pure face. "Hang in there, צִפּוֹרָה. All will soon pass."

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Ari could hardly make heads or tails of what was going around her. It seemed as though the ocean was roaring through her ears and, for a moment, she felt at peace. That is, until the pain hit her like a mach truck, slamming into her chest like a thousand knives stabbing her at once. She coughed up a stream of blood and snapped back into consciousness, regardless of how much she wished she'd stayed out. She felt a heavy pressure on her abdomen and realized that Malachi was hovering over her.

She inched her hand down to the top of her boot, the pressure almost unbearable, and she could feel the silver working it's way through her veins. Sure, she was old enough to handle silver touching her flesh, but nearly a round of armor piercing, full point silver bullets that were now embedded in and around her sternum was a completely different story. She pulled her Ankh dagger from its sheath and gripped the hilt, pulling it towards her chest. She knew that her body had already started to push out the bullets, but the fabric that cover her oozing wounds was definitely hindering that process. She held up the blade to the neck of her shirt, sliding the knife in a downwards motion, parting the shirt and revealing her chest to the world. She could feel the soft night air blowing around her marred, maimed skin and she coughed up more blood.

With the fabric out of the way, she tensed as each bullet was forced out and clinked onto the pavement, her brow furrowed in deep concentration, trying to block out the pain and keep herself from losing anymore blood than she had. Already, she could feel the dull burn of thirst at the back of her throat, a feeling that would plague her until the end of her days. When the fifth and last remaining bullet was out of her system, she realized that her back had been arched and she released all the tension that was flowing through her body.

She opened her eyes and the first thing that she saw was Chi, his worried face causing her to smile. No one had ever been worried about her before, and she couldn't help the grin that now crossed her features. "Chi..." she whispered, feeling the blood trickling down her chin and chest and onto the pavement. "I need blood..." She winced again, the pain returning and flaring as her open wounds were hit by the night air. Her back arched again slightly, her clothing now soaked in her own blood, her once nude bra now a deep brown. Her breasts heaved with the pain and she could hear the echoes of her boots scraping the cement. She need to get blood into her system, and that needed to happen quickly, or this suffering would go on far too long for her liking. She grabbed Chi's hand, once more opening her eyes and looking into his beautiful face, her expression a plea for assistance.

"I have... blood.. in my apart-... ment..." her words were choppy and probably hard to understand, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances. "18th... and... Quail..." she managed to get out before the pain overtook her again, making her writhe once more.

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The angel's hands were quick and light, precise and practiced. They'd been the hands of countless war medics, of doctors, healers and shamans. She managed to slice open her shirt, which made his job that much easier, but at this point, with her covered in blood and spluttering, the sight of her sculpted torso hardly registered to him. He was in 'angel-mode,' machine-like and thrilling in his ability to see a task to it's end. For the moment, he was to heal the woman so that she stopped bleeding, take her to her apartment to replenish her blood, and detain her attacker, if possible.

Well, that could wait. "18th and Quail." he repeated, eyes glancing upward for just a moment before gently sliding his arms beneath her so as to pick her up. It would've been a much more romantic scene had she not been covered in her own blood, poor thing. The angel's wings flapped once or twice to steady him as he stood with the little vampiress in his arms. His hands stayed glowing and on her, that healing power still working to stitch up her wounds as well as possible before she bled out any more.

And with a bound or two, and a heavy downward flap of his wings, they were airborne. He didn't float at all, as some think an angel might, and the jerking of his wings at first might've aggravated the girl's wounds, but Malachi was trying to keep as steady as possible. After a moment or two, though, when they were safely in the air and above the drafts of the city, the wingbeats steadied into a pulsing rhythm. Cold winds tore at the angel's hair and clothes, but he seemed to pay them no mind. His eyes, still white and pupilless with light, were scouring the city for the landmark he knew would lead him toward 18th street.

His home, the New Testament Cathedral, was on 14th-- he flew that way, then, and then past it 5 blocks, all the while wondering how the hell he was going to find Quail street.

There was 18th below him-- the angel swooped down for a moment, suddenly recognizing this as a place he'd been before, under much more chilling circumstances. Down the road, he knew, was a menagerie of apartment complexes populated for the most part by nonhumans. Perhaps that was Quail street? With another flap of his wings, they were shooting down 18th proper, possibly an odd sight to behold, but hopefully one that would go mostly unnoticed. Generally, there weren't many people left unawares of nonhumans in this town, but it did happen occasionally.

The angel touched down at the apartment complex he'd been to only once before and looked to his left to see the street sign for Quail. His eyes flickered down to the woman in his arms, then, the light starting to fade back into his normal, sympathetic eyes.

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Ari was hardly conscious as the angel lifted off into the sky, but she could feel the cold air as it flew past them. Her chest was feeling perhaps the smallest bit better, partially because of her own regenerative nature, and partially because of the angel's healing. She woke slightly, opening her eyes to stare up into Chi's handsome face. One corner of her mouth picked up in the smallest of smiles, and she could feel her cold, hard body pressed up tight against his warm soft frame. He was holding her like a baby, his arms wrapped tightly around her small form and she sighed, releasing the air that had been tensed in her lungs. The wounds still hurt with an incredible ferocity, but she was tough, and her pain tolerance was a bit above average.

When they landed, Malachi looked a bit lost, and so she whispered, "Building's called Willow Bend, it's apartment 12A, first floor," and then winced, for talking most definitely had a negative effect on the way she was feeling.

They finally managed to make it inside, her apartment, a small but refined space, filled with clean white furniture and tinged with a modern feel. She motioned to the kitchen, her stock of blood kept in the fridge, and she winced again, all movement seemingly painful.

"That man was evil," she said, gripping her wounded shoulder. "The inside of his head was... terrifying." She had caught a pretty fair glance of the inner workings of her attackers mind before she had passed out and Malachi had saved her. "He would have raped me if you hadn't of been there." She shook her head in disgust, wishing for once in her long life that she could have killed the human.

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Willow Bend, 12A, first floor. Willow Bend, 12A, first floor...

Malachi repeated the directions internally as he searched out the specific place. It didn't take him long despite the dark, and he was ushered on more by that empathetic power of his cluing him in to how much pain the girl in his arms was actually in. This empathetic power came to him in a synaesthetic way-- pain was a metallic taste in his mouth and a grating, buzzing 'sound' in his head. It was quite unbearable to be so close to so much of it, but Malachi had been experiencing this same taste-sound combination in much higher doses all day so that it was almost something he could ignore at the moment.

Almost, except that he was the angel of mercy, and ignoring pain was not quite in his repertoire.

Still, it was not long before they'd made their way into Araceli's rooms, which was refreshingly (for a vampire) clean, white and modern. "Home sweet home." He set her very gingerly on the couch (although he did feel bad about putting her on a white couch when she was bleeding) before quickly fetching a packet of blood from the refridgerator.

It was the sort of thing that you found in a hospital, with a hole on top that allowed it to be hung from an IV cart. He ripped off one of the tabs as he neared the wounded vampire, setting a pillow gently behind her back so that she could sit up to drink.

"You can read minds?" the angel responded to her first comment, looking at her with a raised brow and hesitant eye, obviously wondering what she'd read in him. Her second comment made him visibly uncomfortable, however, toes curling in his shoes and a look of ill disgust on his face. The emotion passed quickly, though, to one that was much more reassuring. "I'm very glad I was there, then. Despite my best efforts, this city is no place for lovely women to be taking strolls alone at night." He smiled gently, trying to distract her from the awful truth of the attack. "Do you need anything else? I'm sorry about your couch...wasn't really sure where else to put you. Ah, let me get you a damp towel or something..." He looked around, as if to go rush off and find one, before obviously realizing he had no idea where anything was.

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The pain in Ari's chest was diminishing slightly and annoying slowly. But the fact that it was diminishing at all was a relief. She smiled at Chi when he presented her with the plastic bag filled with blood, A-, to be exact, and she tipped it to her lips gingerly. The flow of cold blood made her blanch a bit, but she sucked it up and finished the rest, emptying the bag in a flash. She lost a huge amount herself and even the smallest bit of replenishment made a big difference; she could already feel her wounds begin to knit together, the blood ceased to spill from her chest and she could finally clear her throat without spewing a fountain of the crimson liquid.

However, she knew that she must've looked as awful as she felt and she became distinctly away of her torn shirt, her chest and abdomen open to the angel. She doubted seriously that he was the least bit tempted by her maimed flesh--though it was mending at a quick pace now--and she felt a bit embarrassed. Ari had no problem with her body, she loved the way her limbs moved like water, the sinew of her toned muscle flexing with each graceful movement she made, but she was with an angel and she felt like she should exercise a bit of modesty, as out of character as that was for her. Ari, by nature, when a sensual creature, seductive in every way, and she knew this well, often using it to her advantage to get what she wanted.

She shook her head and glanced up at Chi, his beautiful eyes fraught with a worry that both troubled and pleased her. No one had worried much after her before, and it pleased her that the angel did, but she didn't like seeing that look upon his face. When he asked about he telepathy, she smiled, laying a hand over his, his warm skin reassuring to her.

"Yes, I'm a telepath. I can read the minds of the people in my general vicinity, of all races." She gave him a wry grin, and said, "I am unable, however, to glean anything from your mind, curious angel. So you needn't worry about me intruding into your thoughts, though you've made quite the intrusion into mine." She smiled, squeezing his hand softly and then closed her eyes, her lips parting with a soft sigh as her body finished mending. The holes that had, just minutes ago riddled her abdomen, had since vanished and she was left whole once more, albeit a bit more covered in blood than she was before.

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Her cool hand on his was a very odd feeling. It was like marble, like a statue, but beautiful and quite alive at the same time. Her smile was beautiful as well, despite how disheveled and bloody she was. Chi had the distinct advantage of being able to see the good in just about anyone he met, and he respected the great deal of good he saw in the vampiress.

"You can't?" Malachi's head canted to the side a bit, surprised by this. "Ah, well, you're not missing much anyway." He tried to act smooth in response to her flattery, but he was really having a difficult time concealing the red blush that spread across his face. She squeezed his hand slightly and sighed, and the angel bit his lip. What the hell was he getting himself into?

His hand pulled away gently as he decided to deal with the situation by leaving for a moment. "Yeah, um...let me go find you a- a towel or something." Damn, he was such a klutz when it came to this sort of thing. He could feel that her pain had lessened significantly, and on top of that the reassuring effect he had on the woman (as well as the affection she exuded, which Chi was currently trying to pretend wasn't there beyond a platonic sense).

The angel preceded to enter what looked like a bathroom, but was actually a bedroom. He left immediately, feeling somewhat embarrassed to even be in her bedchambers, especially when she was lying near-shirtless on the couch nearby. Chi turned and found the washroom, gathering up a towel dampened with tap water, and returned to the vampire with it.

He sat down by her, arms draping naturally over his bent knees, wings half-spread behind him. The angel offered her the towel in a sort of clumsy, boyish way. Another man might've been thrilled to 'wipe down' the beautiful woman, but her beauty just served to make Malachi even more mortified. "Ah, here, this should...help..."

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Ari smiled at Chi, his uncomfortable expression making her chuckle softly. She felt bad, she wasn't trying to make the poor angel ill at ease. He walked off, saying something about getting her a towel and she rolled her eyes, hoping he wouldn't get lost in her tiny apartment. Ari could more than afford lager quarters, but she liked living in a compacted space. It made her more comfortable and she was only one person, she didn't need anymore space than she already had.

She lifted her well toned arms over her head, stretching her muscles and arching her back so that her chest was up in the air and then released her tensed position, moving on to stretch out her legs and point her toes. The skin of her stomach felt raw and inflamed, having just been shot through with a clip of bullets, it was understandable. She swung her feet off the couch right as Malachi walked back into the room and she smiled at him. He handed her a damp towel and she took it from him, offering a soft "Grazie," before she shrugged out of her jacket and the ripped v-neck. She used the towel to wipe the blood from her mouth and chin, then covering herself up so the angel wouldn't be anymore uncomfortable than he already was. She grinned at him, his tense expression only making her unable to wipe the smile that was plastered on her features.

She stood, perhaps a little too quickly and swayed, and she felt a bit lightheaded. She walked to the kitchen, shaking her head softly to rid herself of the dizziness that was making her walk like a drunk and she turned back to Chi, leaning against the counter top. "I'm being a terrible hostess, can I get you something to drink?" She opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer and popped the cap, offering it to him, keeping the towel tightly wrapped around her form. She smiled at him and brushed her hair from her eyes, which had thankfully avoided much of the bloodshed and was still silky as ever.

She sat back down and leaned against the back of the couch, taking a short breather before she stood again. "Right, I'll be right back. I feel a change of clothes is in order. Make yourself at home." She loosed her grip on the towel as she walked to the bathroom and it fell from her frame as she shut the door behind her. She stripped down to just her naked flesh and wet the towel back down, running it against her body to remove the blood that had begun to dry. When she had got most of it off, she tossed the now red towel into the waste basket and grabbed a new one, opening the bathroom and crossing the hall, which was completely open to the living room, to her room. She closed the door and opened up her closet, pulling a white, airy dress from a hanger and slipped it over her head, and then walked back into the living room, a smile gracing her pretty face.

"Right, I feel infinitely better. What would you like to do?"