☆007
Reza didn't go to church. Never had, never would. Besides, if anything? She was of an entirely different faith, due to their father, who had instilled Muslim beliefs rather than their mother's Christian views.
Whatever, there was no god as far as she was concerned (though sometimes she allowed herself a brief prayer, a brief respite). Honestly? She was not expecting Samael since he left. The Nymph had given him quite a workout, and while her own abilities meant she was healing rapidly and feeling good... well, it was a different story for him.
There could be no misinterpreting Samael's mood when he returned. Uncharacteristically subdued, he knocked on his sister's door, even as he let himself in with the keys he'd somehow been given.
He peeled off his damp, sweaty t-shirt, which was sticking to his bruises and wandered into the bedroom to drop it into Reza's laundry basket. Once there, he stood still for a moment, uncertain and disoriented. He had learned nothing in Church and that terrified him (or it would have, if he could have identified the fear for what it was).
Daphne watched him with an unreadable look in her face, she merely pointed at the bathroom and stepped in that direction to get the first aid kit. A shower, and then some medical aid were what he needed. The bruises were healing but the hot weather made bandages uncomfortable and easily infected. She had practice at this, it was what they did for a living after all.
Samael obeyed. He had known that it would be like this. That Reza would ask him no difficult questions. He stood under the shower for a long time, preferring a cooler spray this afternoon. Eventually, he emerged, a towel wrapped around his waist. He walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, head in his hands.
Daphne was not a soft woman, she didn't do affectionate or comforting words. However, it was with some ease that she sat by his side and began treating his wounds once more. They were clean, bandaged, some painkillers were offered his way. "Whatever it is, it's not worth it, alright? Torturing yourself over."
Whatever reason for his mood, Reza didn't think anything was worth torturing oneself over.
Samael nodded. A few moments of silence passed, broken only by the occasional sucked-in breath as Reza's fingers touched a particularly tender area. "You're probably right," he said, his voice a bit husky from lack of use. I'll get mine in the end.
He turned to face her, the simple act of twisting causing another hiss. He raised his hand and touched her hair lightly. He nearly smiled at the bruises on the side of her face. What a fucking pair we make, he thought. He leaned closer and closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to hers.
Or not.
Despite how angry she got at him, Daphne was the only one allowed to break Samael, anyone else who touched him was just asking for it- in her opinion. The simple action was returned with a gentle nudge. "Just rest up, we can always kill whoever later."
That got a laugh, at least. A silent one but a laugh nonetheless.
"Yes'm," he murmured, stealing a kiss that was gently only by necessity (he didn't want to open his split lip again) before he crawled up the bed and lowered his head to the blessedly cool pillow.