Who: George and Wrath When: Tuesday Where: Wrath's apartment o' kidnapping What: So, how are you? (Originally posted by George)
George felt like he should be angrier at Wrath than he was. She'd been the one who took Bridget and Lucifer would never have gotten his claws into her otherwise. The whole fiasco would never have started if Wrath could just approach the world like a person.
But Wrath wasn't a normal person, and part of George's sympathy sprang from that. He wanted to help her, to make her feel better and happier. Lucifer was the one who made him furious; Wrath made him concerned.
So he headed back to her apartment, unsure if she was still going to be there. She'd said she might stick around, but George honestly wasn't sure if she had meant that. Now that he wasn't caught in a rush of anger and fear, he took a good look at the place Wrath was living. It just made him scowl more. He'd say it wasn't safe, but Wrath was more than capable of taking care of herself.
He knocked on the door instead of kicking it down, this time. "Wrath? Hey, it's me."
Wrath had been biding her time, wondering when Lucifer would turn to her for her punishment. So far it hadn't come and that actually made it worse. She wanted it over with.
When she heard George's voice after the knock, she pulled her sleeves over her hands and wrapped her arms around herself. She didn't bother getting up from the bed, though she sat up when she called, "come in."
George opened the door and stepped inside, offering Wrath a small smile. He closed the door behind himself and leaned against the wall.
"Hey. Um, how're you?"
Wrath arched an eyebrow at him and she declined to answer. It was always the same. She was always the same.
"Blondie okay?"
"She's out of the hospital," George said. "She's not really up to walking around, but she's healing. The babies are all right, too."
Wrath just nodded. She didn't really care, but she supposed it was better than the human being dead. She didn't need a bunch of saints even more angry with her.
"So did you come to punish me, or-?"
George stared at her, startled.
"What? No! No, God. I just came to see how you were."
She honestly didn't understand why someone would do such a thing. No one came by just to see how she was. No one liked being around her. No one liked wrath, unless there was something wrong with them.
Maybe that was one of the reasons she had taken someone. It had been nice having company even if the company was chained to the radiator.
"Why?" she asked, curious instead of defensive.
"Because I was worried about you," George said. "You said Lucifer might hurt you, and I wanted to be sure you weren't injured. And to see how you were feeling after everything had settled down a bit."
"Lucifer hasn't shown up. I think he's too pleased with himself to deal with me yet." Wrath shoved her fingers through her hair and she pulled her knees up to her chest. "You want to see how I am after everything? You saints are so fucking weird."
"Maybe he won't do anything at all?" George said, and he really hoped that would turn out to be true. "And yeah, I worry about you. You took Bridget, but you aren't the one who threatened to go all supernova and steal her babies. I'm not mad at you the way I am Lucifer."
Wrath shrugged. "Maybe. I do enough to myself anyway, Lucifer is just white noise." Unconsciously Wrath wrapped her arms tighter around herself as she revealed that.
"I wouldn't have kept her here long. I just wanted her to talk. I didn't mean for things to explode like they did. I got carried away."
"I know," George said, hands in his pockets. He thought about sitting down, but Wrath's apartment didn't have much in the way of furniture. There was one battered-looking chair, and George honestly wasn't sure it would support his weight. "If I thought you'd meant for things to get as bad as they did, I'd be mad. As it is..." He shrugged.
Wrath scowled up at him, rolling her eyes. "As it is, you pity me? I don't need your holier than thou pity, saint."
"As it is, I know what it's like to have a situation go to shit way faster than it ever should have, and it sucks."
Being around Wrath had a strange effect on George. As much as she came close to triggering his temper, she also reminded him to be patient with her. That little whispering voice of 'Patience, calm down' didn't happen as often as it should have, and what an irony that Wrath was the one to bring it out in him.
"Okay, sorry if I break your chair, I'm gonna sit in it. Um. Are you feeling okay?"
Wrath didn't care about the chair and she found herself feeling oddly glad that he was sitting. It meant he was staying.
Was she feeling okay? What did that even mean.
"I don't want to chain you to my radiator," she said honestly. "I kind of wonder if I could though."
George barked out a laugh and said "I'm pretty good at breaking handcuffs. And I'm a biter, too."
He honestly wasn't sure if Wrath was trying to change the subject or just didn't understand the question, though. He said, "I meant...are you still hurting yourself?"
Wrath screwed up her face when George mentioned biting and she chose not to say Bridget had left a hefty bite-mark on her leg the other day.
"You didn't say that," Wrath accused him, because she didn't really get subtlety. Then she pulled her sleeves up her arms to reveal the deep gashes that covered them. Some looked infected, but she hardly noticed. "Maybe I had for a little while. But after the other day it all started in again."
"Sorry," George said quietly, staring at her arms. "Should have been blunter."
Moving carefully, like he was trying to corner an injured animal, George rose out of the chair and drifted closer to her. "Those...you need to put some bandages on those. And antibiotics."
Wrath didn't like people trying to baby her and she watched him carefully, her eyes predatory. "Why? I like them like this."