So there's a dark side in us all...

[definitivestep]

There are only so many places Sam can go, times like this. It's Gene or Gwen or Jack, and Jack's not here, and Gwen won't know how to deal with it any better than he does, and it's not really surprising anyway that he ends up at Gene's door, a gun in one hand, just staring at the door for almost a minute before he actually knocks

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[lionofmanc]

Gene's not asleep yet, which is good for Sam, probably not so good for him. He's got the feeling something's wrong, something he can't quite place. Instinct. Stronger now that he's turning into things: his hackles would be raised if he wasn't stubbornly human-shaped at the moment.

He's on his feet the moment Sam knocks, opening the door and giving Sam a once-over. Gun in his hand, the completely lost expression that Gene remembers from when he first had Tyler dropped into his lap... This isn't good.

He doesn't say anything at first, just quietly ushers Sam inside. It's only when the door's closed behind them that he speaks. "Go on and have a seat, and then I expect you'll tell me what's going on."

[definitivestep]

Sam doesn't argue, just walks quietly over to sit down, turning over the gun in his hands for a minute before he actually says anything. Mat doesn't have a gun, so who the hell... He'll worry about that later.

"My guardian angel," he says slowly, in carefully measured tones, "just killed a woman." He glances up at Gene, meeting his eyes. He knows that doesn't explain much, but give him a minute to sort it all out in his head before he tries to explain.

[lionofmanc]

"Your guardian angel. The boy who's afraid to throw a punch. Him." Gene's expression's just a bit disbelieving. "And he killed a woman."

Gene hooks the desk chair with a foot and pulls it out, sitting backwards on it just to reestablish the familiar. Across from each other, something between them, even if it's only the back of the chair... It's what they're used to. And it just might protect him from doing something stupid just because he doesn't want Sam looking at him like that again.

Close is dangerous for them. Always has been, even at their best there's an edge of tension, of unrealized violence every time they're sharing space too closely. Sometimes, he'd concede, the violence is very much realized, but that's not the point. Point is, he's going to give Sam space now, set something up between the two of them so Sam's got enough room to get everything sorted. He doesn't know how he knows these things, or that he knows them at all, except in the vaguest possible sense. It's part of the great fuzzy cloud of things he shrugs at

[definitivestep]

Sam probably wouldn't believe it himself, if he hadn't seen Mat come into his room, blood on his clothes and shaking. He sighs and sets the gun on the bed beside him. "That guardian angel, yes. He came and found me, and..."

Sam shakes his head. And this is where it gets fuzzy, because Mat was rambling a little past the point of coherence, and there was only so much he could pick out from what he said, not all of it entirely helpful.

"Her name was Natasha. She was working for a Neqa'el demon, and she asked Mat to kill her." And he would love to not believe that, except that it didn't hurt at all when Mat said it. It wasn't a lie.