sometimes i dream i'm an exterminating angelblackeyedskankMay 31 2009, 03:46:11 UTC
Coming from the world that she does, everything is weighted to mean more than it might seem initially. Tiny movements and motions can cause huge ripples, smashing too many butterflies under your boots can change the fate of the world around you, and one statement, one question asked, can mean one million different things in all the grand schemes. Every conversation that Ruby has is loaded, the words heavy. She's so used to treating every sentence, every punctuation mark as a potential threat or means to comprehend more that her immediate reaction is defensive.
That, and she is a complete bitch.
She keeps her arms crossed, elbows drawn close to her body, her leg jutted out so that it meets the ground at an angle. Though she might look beat to hell, Ruby has a fascinating way of keeping all her bones upright, and though the look of disgust has faded from her face somewhat, she still does not, by any stretch of the word, look pleased. It would be easy to brush him off and literally disappear from under his nose, and it would be easy to insult him, but if there's one quality that is amplified by being a demon, it's curiosity. There are things Ruby doesn't understand - her begrudging relationship with Dean, why Sam cares whether she lives or dies - and the more time she spends among people, the more time she wants to why.
So she asks: "Why do you care?" Her voice tilts up at the end, prickly and defensive, and she stands like she's holding a great prize hidden underneath her jacket, something to keep safe and hide away from all the eyes out there.
sometimes i dream i'm an exterminating angelatonerMay 31 2009, 04:36:10 UTC
The one time Angel isn't quick to read between the lines, to seek answers from nothing, she adds in that meaning. It is better that he does not take the bait as he falls into the normal way of perceiving things-think first, excessively so, and ask questions later, after he's managed to put two and two together and add up to many different variations of four.
His current conclusion is close to the mark: she's defensive. She's slipped up, and if he had played his cards correctly, maybe he could have pulled more from this. But Angel doubts this. Had he changed his remark, she would still be aiming for control, aiming because she is defensive. Ruby has to attack first, smug and proud, until those attacks are impossible, and then the wall slowly climbs around her.
And that, too, is familiar.
"Well, I'd say it's because you made it clear that there's more than just that. That's why I care. I'm curious, and we interact frequently enough for that to be natural. But what's more interesting is this." Angel steps closer to her, closer still, until there's only a little bit of distance between them. He hopes she doesn't needlessly lash out. She got the last hit in, after all-and given how things go, isn't that enough for her? "That I even need to tell you, and that you aren't answering it yourself. Why is that?"
sometimes i dream i'm an exterminating angelblackeyedskankMay 31 2009, 05:18:13 UTC
She doesn't lash out, doesn't push or move back quickly, surge forward to knock him off balance. Ruby keeps her arms crossed, the tips of her fingers sliding against the leather of her jacket as she exhales hard through her nose and actually breaks eye contact first, glancing to the side. Her tongue turns in her mouth, picking at a bit of broken flesh against her cheek. If she closes her eyes, she can be a million miles away from here, a motel parking lot with flickering neon vacancy and warm rain soaking up the air. But she doesn't close her eyes, and she only spends a moment looking anywhere else but at Angel before she's back in her skin again, in control of herself if not anything else.
Oddly enough, she doesn't feel uncomfortable with the short distance separating them. Ruby is so used to being up in people's personal space that the notion of someone stepping into hers isn't strange at all, only insulting and a means of overstepping one's bounds. They've fought, though, and he's won, so Ruby can afford him the momentary ability to press too close and not end up a smoking pile on a dirty floor. She would never admit that the idea of physically pushing him back makes her feel exhausted, like she hasn't been since she fought her way out of Hell, and she would never let it show on her face either. That doesn't erase its existence, doesn't change fact. But Ruby is a great liar, after all.
"Because," she says, an irritated little huff bringing the words to the forefront as she looks up at him, eyes hard. They stand close enough to feel how dead they both are. "Because it's none of your business. The things that I do, the way that I am, it's none of your business. You don't need to look any closer at what I do or say than you already are. I don't get it. Why you try to. Why you try to dissect every little detail. What are you hoping to find? A means to an end?" She pauses, and this is as honest as she's ever going to be with anyone about anything, and it's as close to a real answer to his last question as she's ever going to give. "I don't understand."
It's the truth. She doesn't get it. His interest doesn't seem to be malicious, and he hasn't brought salt or holy water to any of their little get-togethers, despite what it might do to him. Ruby doesn't understand, and it leaves her bitter and angry and hungry. He has nothing to gain from her, no real angle to play or games to win outside of genuine interest, and she doesn't understand it at all.
sometimes i dream i'm an exterminating angelatonerMay 31 2009, 05:48:27 UTC
Irritation seems to seep off her, he notices. Even if Buffy has clarified what it is like for a demon to walk the earth in the world where Ruby comes from, he finds it curious how well she wears this skin. Demons have varying different definitions, as well as the capacity to possess, but it is not like this; this is different. Though the professional curiosity and wonderment always creeps up in the company of her, he finds himself more intrigued by her as a person than her as a demon. He has solidly lent himself this position, however unwise it may be in the future.
He understands the need to make something into a deal, a trade off, every person looking out for themselves in the end. While he doesn't necessarily agree with this, Angel's time and experience does not make him cower in the face of these choices. It's already been decided that Ruby is most comfortable with this. She needs someone to be taking to give. It's one of her most curious aspects, but also the most transparent.
Right now, though, he knows this most recent admission is not giving and taking, because she has taken nothing from this other then the fact that she is weak, she is broken, and she has no reason to run away yet. Running away would play to the weakness. Talking is playing to it, too, but he thinks that maybe she can give a little; it isn't vulnerability that's making it happen. For once, the reasoning behind this has no solid truth set in stone, no roll of dice that forces these words forth. Angel's satisfied by this.
"I dissect out of habit," he explains, the words delivered as if it's a fact and something that can be thrown away. He'll give more now, because this is less of a game. They'll likely turn it back into one soon enough. She'll spin the wheel and they'll keep on that way, but he doesn't mind this now. Angel doesn't always like games. In fact, he's tired of them, a reminder of his pending humanity that will likely never come. "Sometimes people get to know each other, though. It's basic. I could know you as an investigator, someone who should worry about that. I think you'd prefer that. It'd be professional, and I could be more desperate. But I don't have a real good reason, and that bothers you. I don't want to save your soul-it's already lost, isn't it? But there's something there that you don't like, something that I wouldn't mind seeing. You know that, too." Something good? Angel doesn't spell it out that clearly. He doesn't think "good" is a proper word for it.
sometimes i dream i'm an exterminating angelblackeyedskankMay 31 2009, 06:32:07 UTC
From a any angle's perspective, she's an oddity. From the second that she got off of the rack in Hell and put blade to bone, she's known that. There is nothing good about her, not when every aspect and agenda is weighed. The things that she does are not good, even if the outcome that she's working toward could logically be considered good. But she isn't. She cuts the hearts out of virgins and skins live animals with her bare hands to craft dirty world witchcraft that would make most people's mothers turn violent shades of green. She kills people with little remorse or thought, and sticks her own kind with pokers and heavy punches to ensure that the human side can win this fight. Her teams are all wrong, lined up like crooked and broken soldiers on some unorthodox battlefield. Underneath her black eyes and her demonic power and her issues with blessed Evian water, she remembers enough of her humanity to make her an anomaly, to make being a demon hard. To remember all that she has, see all that she has, without giving into it. Maybe it's something that he can understand, given his own predicament.
But her humanity is something that Ruby never touches on. It's not embarrassing or shaming. She doesn't think it filthy or unfortunate. But like nothing else in her existence, it's hers. It is something that sets her apart from the others, something that she guards and has been building like a flame, until it licks her decisions like a bonfire. She wishes she were like the others, mindless and focused on one distinct outcome, wanting to end the world with fire and brimstone. But she isn't. And she never will be. She hides that behind her back, wearing this face, this mask of distaste and hatred and overall annoyance. She plays these games because they're familiar, they're easy, they're habit. The vampire crowding up the alley with his big brooding face and his big black coat offer something different, however, and no matter how many times he presents his actions and no matter how much she adapts to his lines of insistent pestering, he doesn't roll over and piss off when she tells him to.
Ruby doesn't want to answer his questions, and she doesn't want him dissecting her, and she doesn't want him seeing things about her that she doesn't even enjoy seeing in herself: this humanity, this disgusting idea of the world not ending, this dirty goddamn urge to do right by people even if her methods aren't as appreciative. Because in their world, when people go looking for something, something usually finds them first. She doesn't need him seeing, no matter what it is he ends up finding.
Blood runs into her eye, and she wipes it away with the heel of her hand savagely, glaring down at the bright red on her pale palm. "Don't treat me like an idiot. I'm a demon. I'm not dumb. I know how people act, and I know how they act enough to know that you aren't people. And I don't mean that because you like to stick bendy straws in pints of blood. You aren't like people even though you try just as hard as the next demon to blend in with them." She pauses in a very tense manner, a way that suggests he'll get punched in the face if he opens his mouth to do so much as sneeze.
Drawing comparisons between them is dangerous for her, but it's something she's seen for a long time, and likely a very large part of the reason that she's shoved him so viciously away from her. She doesn't need more people having things in common with her. She doesn't need more people like Dean. "You have a soul," she goes on, like this is something exceptionally important to be pointing out, though she says it nonchalantly. "But that doesn't mean that we're going to be bosom buddies because we're both a little rare for our species. You have a soul. I have humanity. It's not the same thing, but considering what your soul means to you, I think you can draw comparisons. There. Good enough for you, cherry pie?"
sometimes i dream i'm an exterminating angelatonerMay 31 2009, 06:53:46 UTC
As patronizing as his words could have been, he does not see this as a circumstance in which he is treating her like an idiot; he had spelled out the conclusions as simple as possible. They were not meant to be taken as defining what it is for others to get to know one another, but to answer her question, to make it seem simple. A new angle would turn it into that, but that isn't Angel's intention. Their previous encounter already unveiled that he doesn't doubt her intelligence, her approach to situations, and how tangled up she really needs things to be for them to work. In order to be a demon, she must be able to manipulate. In order to manipulate, she has to understand the interrelations that people have with one another. A to B to C-they line up in a logical progression.
But it's because she chooses to see it as patronizing that he feels somewhat more secure. Acid may be burning on the tip of her tongue, readied and waiting for one wrong move on his behalf, but he doesn't flinch. The pause, the tenseness-the way it adds up is that she is losing a piece of herself, second by second, by trying to prove that she is superior and right, while he is making no effort. She may not wish to be dissected. That's fine, but being in the company of someone like Ruby long enough tends to give enough answers. Perhaps that is why she approaches situations like a frequent hit and run attack. Hit, enjoy the scenery from the results, and pull back, like she never was there in the first place.
The only problem is that Ruby isn't very good at keeping that up. Sometimes, she sticks around a little too long, sure enough in her stance as a demon that it will not hurt her in any way. This is one of those situations.
It would have been better for her to pull away, to turn this into childish remarks by now, but instead, she chooses to draw a parallel, a comparison between the two of them. It is Ruby who brings it up, says that the only reason Angel is drawn to her is because of her humanity. She fails to notice that he was already drawn to her. Either through annoyance or trading insults, she had become a permanent fixture in his life before they met, and it had nothing to do with the demon lurking beneath the skin that he couldn't quite understand. Angel has always seen her as needing to trade punches, to find some satisfaction behind it; now, she's the one opening the book and presenting the answers to him. Are these the correct ones? Is she slipping because she wants him to believe that she sees parallels between them? Or is she brushing it off because she thinks he is, but she is the one who is dragging it up, making it known, and defining it for all to see? Either way, the assumption causes her to lose footing in his eyes.
"That's the thing," Angel begins, his body loosening up the tiniest bit to show his growing comfort. He's at ease, and she will be able to tell. It will push her again or she will leave. The paths leading to the end of this conversation are starting to appear. "Wanting to see something in you doesn't mean I want to see me in you. Parallels, things like that. You just got it wrong, Ruby. That admission probably cost you, though. Being wrong is hard, isn't it?" That's a little patronizing, but the lack of tension leads to the same smile from before slipping forth. "You aren't like some of the vampires around here who are different. They can have redemption from the start. That's why I'm drawn to them. You? There isn't a tie to being a demon that keeps me standing here. Right now, this isn't a game. And if it were, you wouldn't be playing it very well."
He almost goes on to point out potential mechanisms, to make her comparison lead into some other dealing, but he doesn't. Complicate things too badly for the sake of there being a reason and it becomes apparent that it's a mere complication.
sometimes i dream i'm an exterminating angelblackeyedskankMay 31 2009, 07:12:49 UTC
There are a lot of things that Angel gets wrong about her both at the outset and after a certain period of time, but there are just as many things that he gets right. The downfall of being in a place like the City is that it provides her no outlet. She can't hide here, can't run to another state and dig deeper into demonic circles, move with big leagues and slit the throats of underlings who squeal. At best, she can lurk in the Underground until the monsters there get stale, until she needs to pop back out to see what's happening on the surface. And the City forces her to be social, to patronize, to stick her nose into business with more bravado than she would normally, draw attention to herself. It's a jagged comparison to the world that she used to live in, and while she can maintain her swagger normally, people who look closer, like Angel, see the pockmarks in her persona easily enough.
For a creature with no heart, she wears hers too obviously, and with every word that moves beyond his mouth, she tightens and tightens and tightens. The aching curve of her spine winds like a music box, forcing her straighter, as the gears in her mouth turn like clockwork, the odd and weird calm wiped off of her face as simple as a hand passing over glass. She sees the same possibility of parallel in Castiel that she does in Angel, not necessarily the same parallel but the same potential. She hates it as much as he refutes it.
"No," she eventually spews, head tipped down and lips pulled back. "No, you got it wrong. You wanted to see something. That's seeing something. I can't help it if you're blind." And maybe she hasn't given him all of her facts. She certainly hasn't explained what it means to be a demon with humanity, and the fact that he's not seeing it the way she wants him to is enough for her to deduce that it's a pointless endeavor and it was a mistake to bring it up in the first place. Ruby can't afford to make mistakes, not here, not anywhere, and her immediate reaction is to pack up and fuck off.
She cocks an eyebrow at him, her face serious for a moment, and then grins broadly as she shoulders past him, purposefully knocking into him, like they play on the same football team. All her walls are back up, her hackles raised. It's just another day.
sometimes i dream i'm an exterminating angelatonerMay 31 2009, 07:31:24 UTC
"Should you be doing that?" He turns quickly, almost in a rhythmic spin, to catch her back. "You're hurt, aren't you?" It's false concern, but an obvious exit from the conversation. Angel doesn't see a point in discussing who's right and wrong any further. Her last point is unnecessary, unclear-he does see something and she knows it. It has nothing to do with him or his own perspective, and she is retreating because there is no other way to go.
Angel walks up closer to push it, stopping right behind her so that a little bit of his coat even whips forward against the back of her leg, making it possible for her to see just how close he is. "You should have walked away sooner," he continues, and he lets it hang for a moment, like it's his only thought. There is the same smile, the need for it there, because there is no denying his victory at the end of this conversation. He not only won the fight, but he wins the game that never started, her retreating so desperately clearly turning it into that. "After all, you needed to get rest sooner than later."
There is no defense, just the taste of victory. He thinks to say more, but Angel's brand of smug is different from most. If it were her win, he has no doubt she would be doing the same. The only difference is there would be nothing to gain, no play upon weaknesses, while hers are bared to the world.
sometimes i dream i'm an exterminating angelblackeyedskankMay 31 2009, 07:48:01 UTC
Ruby stops, her head tilted slightly to the side as if she's listening to something very far away. With her head in this position, she can almost see him, and he looms like a shadow in her peripheral vision, just another dark figure on a dark night. This one is only slightly more annoying than the majority of the ones she's been forced to deal with, and he's one of the few she's walked away from without having disposed of first.
She is hurting, more than she has in a long, long time, but it doesn't stop her. She would pull the aching bones out of her body and sharpen them to stab if it was necessary. It will take longer than a day for her own abilities to heal the body faster, and Ruby briefly wonders how long it's going to be before the City decides to kill the meat altogether. And she doesn't explain away the conclusions that he makes. It's none of his business what she can and cannot do now, no matter how insubstantial a fact, even if it could be written away with a simple 'I got the VIP healing kit.' Her doors have all been slammed.
When she turns halfway around, she's surprised at just how close he is standing to her. Ruby expected and knew that he was close, her senses prickling better than ever, but even the touch of his coat against her leg had been surprising and interesting enough to be misleading. Her face remains impassive, however: eyes calm, focused, mouth a pale, red slash that only curls up at one side now. "Are you going to attack me again?" she asks, honest but remarkably unafraid and bored. It's as if she's asking him if he plans on passing the salt.
sometimes i dream i'm an exterminating angelatonerMay 31 2009, 08:10:57 UTC
Angel recalls their previous way of departing, how she slipped off into the shadows. Drawing that last minute up in his memory is necessary as he stands there, considering her question, and looking down at her. The answer is clearly "no," but he finds it curious that she would even ask that. Is that what she wants? Would that be easy? Or is a throwaway one? Analyzing it doesn't benefit him as much as he would like, so he doesn't. "I didn't attack first," he tells her, simply. Matter of fact works. "So why would I attack again?" I already won. Unspoken, but it emanates in the air enough as if it is.
He leans toward her then, drawing their faces close enough together that there is no personal space, but not close enough. This would be more effective if he chose to do it the same way as she had, mouth to ear, but he likes it this way. It's more direct, as if she can't avoid it. "Have a good night, Ruby. Rest up." His hand raises and presses against her shoulder in a comforting pat twice, before he pulls back, steps away, and turns. This isn't a retreat to make small talk before they part. This is a full retreat, slip into the shadows, with the sound of his coat being the last sound before he's gone.
sometimes i dream i'm an exterminating angelblackeyedskankMay 31 2009, 08:29:13 UTC
She doesn't look away when he's up in her face, though her expression changes from what it had been before to something akin to a teenager being lectured by an overbearing parent. When he's gone, Ruby lingers in the shadows for a minute after he's gone. She hadn't been given the answer that she wanted, but then that's becoming a constant with him, too, isn't it? There is a lingering buzz where his hand had settled on her shoulder, and she feels rather than knows her face is pinched both in mental discomfort at him touching her at all and confusion at the prospect.
Ruby feels herself shifting and altering by degrees, tiny little clicks of her person that she doesn't like but can't stop, and the only response the body she's wearing has is to meld itself more firmly to her. Her back hurts, her face stings, and she desperately wants to kill something just to see it suffer for the first time in a long time. But not as much as she wants to walk across the street and pour a pound of ketchup onto an appetizer plate and eat french fries.
It's the last thought that she has before she turns to leave, and then as suddenly as she appeared there, she's gone.
That, and she is a complete bitch.
She keeps her arms crossed, elbows drawn close to her body, her leg jutted out so that it meets the ground at an angle. Though she might look beat to hell, Ruby has a fascinating way of keeping all her bones upright, and though the look of disgust has faded from her face somewhat, she still does not, by any stretch of the word, look pleased. It would be easy to brush him off and literally disappear from under his nose, and it would be easy to insult him, but if there's one quality that is amplified by being a demon, it's curiosity. There are things Ruby doesn't understand - her begrudging relationship with Dean, why Sam cares whether she lives or dies - and the more time she spends among people, the more time she wants to why.
So she asks: "Why do you care?" Her voice tilts up at the end, prickly and defensive, and she stands like she's holding a great prize hidden underneath her jacket, something to keep safe and hide away from all the eyes out there.
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His current conclusion is close to the mark: she's defensive. She's slipped up, and if he had played his cards correctly, maybe he could have pulled more from this. But Angel doubts this. Had he changed his remark, she would still be aiming for control, aiming because she is defensive. Ruby has to attack first, smug and proud, until those attacks are impossible, and then the wall slowly climbs around her.
And that, too, is familiar.
"Well, I'd say it's because you made it clear that there's more than just that. That's why I care. I'm curious, and we interact frequently enough for that to be natural. But what's more interesting is this." Angel steps closer to her, closer still, until there's only a little bit of distance between them. He hopes she doesn't needlessly lash out. She got the last hit in, after all-and given how things go, isn't that enough for her? "That I even need to tell you, and that you aren't answering it yourself. Why is that?"
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Oddly enough, she doesn't feel uncomfortable with the short distance separating them. Ruby is so used to being up in people's personal space that the notion of someone stepping into hers isn't strange at all, only insulting and a means of overstepping one's bounds. They've fought, though, and he's won, so Ruby can afford him the momentary ability to press too close and not end up a smoking pile on a dirty floor. She would never admit that the idea of physically pushing him back makes her feel exhausted, like she hasn't been since she fought her way out of Hell, and she would never let it show on her face either. That doesn't erase its existence, doesn't change fact. But Ruby is a great liar, after all.
"Because," she says, an irritated little huff bringing the words to the forefront as she looks up at him, eyes hard. They stand close enough to feel how dead they both are. "Because it's none of your business. The things that I do, the way that I am, it's none of your business. You don't need to look any closer at what I do or say than you already are. I don't get it. Why you try to. Why you try to dissect every little detail. What are you hoping to find? A means to an end?" She pauses, and this is as honest as she's ever going to be with anyone about anything, and it's as close to a real answer to his last question as she's ever going to give. "I don't understand."
It's the truth. She doesn't get it. His interest doesn't seem to be malicious, and he hasn't brought salt or holy water to any of their little get-togethers, despite what it might do to him. Ruby doesn't understand, and it leaves her bitter and angry and hungry. He has nothing to gain from her, no real angle to play or games to win outside of genuine interest, and she doesn't understand it at all.
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He understands the need to make something into a deal, a trade off, every person looking out for themselves in the end. While he doesn't necessarily agree with this, Angel's time and experience does not make him cower in the face of these choices. It's already been decided that Ruby is most comfortable with this. She needs someone to be taking to give. It's one of her most curious aspects, but also the most transparent.
Right now, though, he knows this most recent admission is not giving and taking, because she has taken nothing from this other then the fact that she is weak, she is broken, and she has no reason to run away yet. Running away would play to the weakness. Talking is playing to it, too, but he thinks that maybe she can give a little; it isn't vulnerability that's making it happen. For once, the reasoning behind this has no solid truth set in stone, no roll of dice that forces these words forth. Angel's satisfied by this.
"I dissect out of habit," he explains, the words delivered as if it's a fact and something that can be thrown away. He'll give more now, because this is less of a game. They'll likely turn it back into one soon enough. She'll spin the wheel and they'll keep on that way, but he doesn't mind this now. Angel doesn't always like games. In fact, he's tired of them, a reminder of his pending humanity that will likely never come. "Sometimes people get to know each other, though. It's basic. I could know you as an investigator, someone who should worry about that. I think you'd prefer that. It'd be professional, and I could be more desperate. But I don't have a real good reason, and that bothers you. I don't want to save your soul-it's already lost, isn't it? But there's something there that you don't like, something that I wouldn't mind seeing. You know that, too." Something good? Angel doesn't spell it out that clearly. He doesn't think "good" is a proper word for it.
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But her humanity is something that Ruby never touches on. It's not embarrassing or shaming. She doesn't think it filthy or unfortunate. But like nothing else in her existence, it's hers. It is something that sets her apart from the others, something that she guards and has been building like a flame, until it licks her decisions like a bonfire. She wishes she were like the others, mindless and focused on one distinct outcome, wanting to end the world with fire and brimstone. But she isn't. And she never will be. She hides that behind her back, wearing this face, this mask of distaste and hatred and overall annoyance. She plays these games because they're familiar, they're easy, they're habit. The vampire crowding up the alley with his big brooding face and his big black coat offer something different, however, and no matter how many times he presents his actions and no matter how much she adapts to his lines of insistent pestering, he doesn't roll over and piss off when she tells him to.
Ruby doesn't want to answer his questions, and she doesn't want him dissecting her, and she doesn't want him seeing things about her that she doesn't even enjoy seeing in herself: this humanity, this disgusting idea of the world not ending, this dirty goddamn urge to do right by people even if her methods aren't as appreciative. Because in their world, when people go looking for something, something usually finds them first. She doesn't need him seeing, no matter what it is he ends up finding.
Blood runs into her eye, and she wipes it away with the heel of her hand savagely, glaring down at the bright red on her pale palm. "Don't treat me like an idiot. I'm a demon. I'm not dumb. I know how people act, and I know how they act enough to know that you aren't people. And I don't mean that because you like to stick bendy straws in pints of blood. You aren't like people even though you try just as hard as the next demon to blend in with them." She pauses in a very tense manner, a way that suggests he'll get punched in the face if he opens his mouth to do so much as sneeze.
Drawing comparisons between them is dangerous for her, but it's something she's seen for a long time, and likely a very large part of the reason that she's shoved him so viciously away from her. She doesn't need more people having things in common with her. She doesn't need more people like Dean. "You have a soul," she goes on, like this is something exceptionally important to be pointing out, though she says it nonchalantly. "But that doesn't mean that we're going to be bosom buddies because we're both a little rare for our species. You have a soul. I have humanity. It's not the same thing, but considering what your soul means to you, I think you can draw comparisons. There. Good enough for you, cherry pie?"
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But it's because she chooses to see it as patronizing that he feels somewhat more secure. Acid may be burning on the tip of her tongue, readied and waiting for one wrong move on his behalf, but he doesn't flinch. The pause, the tenseness-the way it adds up is that she is losing a piece of herself, second by second, by trying to prove that she is superior and right, while he is making no effort. She may not wish to be dissected. That's fine, but being in the company of someone like Ruby long enough tends to give enough answers. Perhaps that is why she approaches situations like a frequent hit and run attack. Hit, enjoy the scenery from the results, and pull back, like she never was there in the first place.
The only problem is that Ruby isn't very good at keeping that up. Sometimes, she sticks around a little too long, sure enough in her stance as a demon that it will not hurt her in any way. This is one of those situations.
It would have been better for her to pull away, to turn this into childish remarks by now, but instead, she chooses to draw a parallel, a comparison between the two of them. It is Ruby who brings it up, says that the only reason Angel is drawn to her is because of her humanity. She fails to notice that he was already drawn to her. Either through annoyance or trading insults, she had become a permanent fixture in his life before they met, and it had nothing to do with the demon lurking beneath the skin that he couldn't quite understand. Angel has always seen her as needing to trade punches, to find some satisfaction behind it; now, she's the one opening the book and presenting the answers to him. Are these the correct ones? Is she slipping because she wants him to believe that she sees parallels between them? Or is she brushing it off because she thinks he is, but she is the one who is dragging it up, making it known, and defining it for all to see? Either way, the assumption causes her to lose footing in his eyes.
"That's the thing," Angel begins, his body loosening up the tiniest bit to show his growing comfort. He's at ease, and she will be able to tell. It will push her again or she will leave. The paths leading to the end of this conversation are starting to appear. "Wanting to see something in you doesn't mean I want to see me in you. Parallels, things like that. You just got it wrong, Ruby. That admission probably cost you, though. Being wrong is hard, isn't it?" That's a little patronizing, but the lack of tension leads to the same smile from before slipping forth. "You aren't like some of the vampires around here who are different. They can have redemption from the start. That's why I'm drawn to them. You? There isn't a tie to being a demon that keeps me standing here. Right now, this isn't a game. And if it were, you wouldn't be playing it very well."
He almost goes on to point out potential mechanisms, to make her comparison lead into some other dealing, but he doesn't. Complicate things too badly for the sake of there being a reason and it becomes apparent that it's a mere complication.
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For a creature with no heart, she wears hers too obviously, and with every word that moves beyond his mouth, she tightens and tightens and tightens. The aching curve of her spine winds like a music box, forcing her straighter, as the gears in her mouth turn like clockwork, the odd and weird calm wiped off of her face as simple as a hand passing over glass. She sees the same possibility of parallel in Castiel that she does in Angel, not necessarily the same parallel but the same potential. She hates it as much as he refutes it.
"No," she eventually spews, head tipped down and lips pulled back. "No, you got it wrong. You wanted to see something. That's seeing something. I can't help it if you're blind." And maybe she hasn't given him all of her facts. She certainly hasn't explained what it means to be a demon with humanity, and the fact that he's not seeing it the way she wants him to is enough for her to deduce that it's a pointless endeavor and it was a mistake to bring it up in the first place. Ruby can't afford to make mistakes, not here, not anywhere, and her immediate reaction is to pack up and fuck off.
She cocks an eyebrow at him, her face serious for a moment, and then grins broadly as she shoulders past him, purposefully knocking into him, like they play on the same football team. All her walls are back up, her hackles raised. It's just another day.
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Angel walks up closer to push it, stopping right behind her so that a little bit of his coat even whips forward against the back of her leg, making it possible for her to see just how close he is. "You should have walked away sooner," he continues, and he lets it hang for a moment, like it's his only thought. There is the same smile, the need for it there, because there is no denying his victory at the end of this conversation. He not only won the fight, but he wins the game that never started, her retreating so desperately clearly turning it into that. "After all, you needed to get rest sooner than later."
There is no defense, just the taste of victory. He thinks to say more, but Angel's brand of smug is different from most. If it were her win, he has no doubt she would be doing the same. The only difference is there would be nothing to gain, no play upon weaknesses, while hers are bared to the world.
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She is hurting, more than she has in a long, long time, but it doesn't stop her. She would pull the aching bones out of her body and sharpen them to stab if it was necessary. It will take longer than a day for her own abilities to heal the body faster, and Ruby briefly wonders how long it's going to be before the City decides to kill the meat altogether. And she doesn't explain away the conclusions that he makes. It's none of his business what she can and cannot do now, no matter how insubstantial a fact, even if it could be written away with a simple 'I got the VIP healing kit.' Her doors have all been slammed.
When she turns halfway around, she's surprised at just how close he is standing to her. Ruby expected and knew that he was close, her senses prickling better than ever, but even the touch of his coat against her leg had been surprising and interesting enough to be misleading. Her face remains impassive, however: eyes calm, focused, mouth a pale, red slash that only curls up at one side now. "Are you going to attack me again?" she asks, honest but remarkably unafraid and bored. It's as if she's asking him if he plans on passing the salt.
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He leans toward her then, drawing their faces close enough together that there is no personal space, but not close enough. This would be more effective if he chose to do it the same way as she had, mouth to ear, but he likes it this way. It's more direct, as if she can't avoid it. "Have a good night, Ruby. Rest up." His hand raises and presses against her shoulder in a comforting pat twice, before he pulls back, steps away, and turns. This isn't a retreat to make small talk before they part. This is a full retreat, slip into the shadows, with the sound of his coat being the last sound before he's gone.
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Ruby feels herself shifting and altering by degrees, tiny little clicks of her person that she doesn't like but can't stop, and the only response the body she's wearing has is to meld itself more firmly to her. Her back hurts, her face stings, and she desperately wants to kill something just to see it suffer for the first time in a long time. But not as much as she wants to walk across the street and pour a pound of ketchup onto an appetizer plate and eat french fries.
It's the last thought that she has before she turns to leave, and then as suddenly as she appeared there, she's gone.
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