That Samandriel heard voices was true, but hearing with human ears was different than angelic ones just as seeing with human eyes was. He caught Natasha's name as they all clamored inside, managed to get up near silently and hover at his open door while he listened.
He was sure Natasha and her partner were both aware of his presence, but it wouldn't have surprised him too much if at least his sister was more focused on what Mitchell was saying.
Either way, it was clear to him that both Natasha and the demon were there to get answers out of him that he plainly didn't want to give. It was time to face the music, he supposed. At least with his sister there, any end he might find for his betrayal would be quick.
He picked up an overlarge t-shirt and pulled it on, not caring that it was long enough to completely hide the fact that he was wearing underwear at all. He grabbed his collar from where he'd jammed it under the mattress hoping that somehow Mitchell wouldn't smell the bits of blood that had soaked into the leather. His Master had never fed from him while he wore it after all. The blood was still there, of course, dried now because Samandriel hadn't had the energy to clean it.
Quietly, he padded out into the kitchen, set his collar on the table for Mitchell to look at and walked over to the demon to slide down the wall, pull his knees up tight to his chest and ignore that anything else might exist in the world. Demons traded on sin and betrayal, didn't they? He was safer near him than he ever might have a chance being with his Master or his sister.