Tempest raises an eyebrow slightly, falling silent as she heard thunder rumble outside. "There's a thunderstorm coming. Don't think I had anything to do with it, though."
"I sure in the he.ll didn't," he said with a grin. No point in pure hostility. At least she hadn't, you know, killed him.
Serce laughs softly, shaking her head. "I'd hope not. I can't control anything more than lightning or electricity, despite being called a Storm Angel."
He nodded. "So, you could have fried my a.ss out of existence if you wanted." NOW he was nervous.
"I've been given no reason to besides your being a Blood Angel at my house. That seems a petty cause for me to kill someone over," Tempest says, shrugging.
"Right." Okay, silence was definitely the better option. He wasn't necessarily interested in dying.
"I can fix your wing in the morning. I'm going to see if I can't get some sleep."
He nodded, smiling inwardly. Scar could kill her. Tonight. While she slept peacefully, he could steal the life from her pretty little self. Yet...
Tempest smiles faintly, disappearing upstairs to her bedroom. "Just because I'm another hybrid... It doesn't make sense for them to want me dead," she mutters, running a hand through her hair.
Was he even capable of doing it? He had thought he would be able to arrive on-scene and carry out his orders swiftly, but upon seeing her, recognizing her as a body of living flesh, he wasn't so sure. He was younger than every other candidate, and this was the situation that was a concern for him. Now he understood that concern
Tempest sits on her bed, fisting her hands in her hair. "Da.mn it all... He shouldn't have been able to find the place," she growls. "I'm so dead and it can hardly be blamed on him. But if there's some chance... Some chance to stop it..." She sighs, shaking her head. It was pointless as far as she could tell.
Scar sat down, his wing hanging awkwardly to the side. Some assassin he was. The girl couldn't have done a single thing to stop him, and he chickened out;. What was he supposed to do? Admit failure to the Blood Angels and forfeit his life?
Tempest lays back on her bed, closing her eyes. "I can't believe this is happening," she says quietly.
Sleep did not come to Scar. He simply sat there, reflecting on his failure. There was still time, but he knew better. If Scar Rayyn couldn't do it before, how could he take her life now? The simple answer was that he couldn't.
Tempest walks downstairs the next morning, her hair braided in a fishtail over her shoulder.
Scar looked at her. He wished he looked even ten percent as refreshed as Tempest did.
"Good morning," Tempest says lightly, grabbing a bagel from the kitchen. "It looks like you didn't sleep at all last night."
"Would you slep if your wing was broken?" Scar stood up, walking to the window but then slinking away. "Bright."
Tempest rolls her eyes, not bothering to give him an answer as she grabs a roll of bandages.
Scar slinked back against the wall. Now he wished that he had disposed of her the night before. Shewas going to annoy him and extort gross amounts of information from him. Not that he cared. He was sure that death was but inevitable at this point.