arctic irises search her face, her hesitation almost alarming. the pause is justified with the offering of her full name. flowers. he understands. it isn’t often that surnames resulting from certain conditions are regarded favourably. he, however, cares not for the extenuating circumstances of her upbringing. he would be a hypocrite to do so, his own family comprised of similar names and stories. “samina flowers,” he echoes, the edges of forested lips upturned. he catches his eye as it wanders through her features, hoping his potential indiscretion goes unnoticed. “a lovely name indeed. it is my pleasure to know it.”

the smile that pulls on his lovely face does wonders to calm her beating heart. he didn't care at all, it seemed. and even though mina shouldn't, she reaches across the gap between their tables to offer a hand to grasp in greeting. the ladies at the table were fuming behind her. she could feel their gazes in states of avoidance of the whole interaction or staring hard at the back of her head. his name is said and once her hand is withdrawn, dark eyebrows knit in thought. the name sounded familiar, but then again she was just a laid in waiting. she didn't get told too many important details.

❝  mmhm,  reckon  you  do  .  .  .  didn't  take  you  as  a  woman  t'lie  flat  on  her  back  –'less  she  wants  to.❞   a  soft,  self-satisfied  hum  rumbles  from  within  his  throat,  catching  her  shapely  silhouette  in  the  peripheral  of  his  vision,  taking  her  in  once  more,  her  face,  eyes,  lips,  the  nightgown—all  of  her—  with  a  less  than  shameful  sweep.  my,  was  she  a  beautiful  sight,  even  in  such dim lighting.  as  lovely  as  a  marigold in  spring.

she is leading to the living room, not quite sure if she wants to take him any deeper into her home. as much as this whole thing thrilled her, virginia found that a nervous perspiration played upon her brow. it was too late to back down and she didn't want to. with his next sentence, she stops in her tracks knowing exactly what he was insinuating. slowly, head of dirty blonde curls turns backwards to him. ❝ that i don't. ❞ the hum seems to land at the top of her spine and snake its way down her back. or maybe, that was his gaze on her that goes unseen because she has turned away again.

approaching the living room, she lights a few other candles in sconces on the wall. it was an old house, not fully wired yet for electricity. she liked that sometimes. a lot of the time, actually. the atmosphere far warmer and more romantic in an otherwise ice cold abode. hand within hers gives a squeeze. somehow she'd gotten used to the feeling of holding his hand and was reminded of it only then. ❝ i didn't give you my name either and somehow, you found your way to my door sayin' you had nowhere else to go. and i believe that as true. tell me your name then and i'll give you a room here. ❞

Or maybe ever if you continue to use that tone of voice.

There are two implications hidden in that statement. For one, that he had pushed the angel's limits, and second of all, that there was a scenario in which the angel did want to hold his hand. The mere thought of that should not have him blush, and he turns his head away quickly, only venturing to look back once Kokabiel has turned his back to him.

"- that's what She wants me to do", he adds when his friend stops speaking altogether, hoping that it'll explain why he's more agitated than usual. It's the first time he's been tasked to KILL, and the demon is sure he won't be able to talk his way out this one unless he comes up with something good - preferably something that would never reach neither Hell nor Heaven's ears - but the more he thinks on it, the more convinced he is that he would sooner take whatever punishment Hell has in store for him than comply with her request.

thankfully, the demon doesn't mention what he said about holding hands. that was a whole other conversation. ❝ i know what she wants you to do! how could i not? it's all they are buzzing about up there! ❞ and now there was a light shone on the reason he knew to come down to where the demon had to do this horrible task. the angel's upstairs were nearly bragging about the ultimate test and the lucky demon who was enacting it. they didn't want to get their sanitary hands dirty, but would have all the fun with the aftermath of showing benevolence to job and his wife with granting them seven more kids. different ones ... nevermind the dead ones. don't miss them, they are gone. not yet, if both of them have anything to do with it.

'two sugars and a splash of cream,' he tried not to focus on the lump in his throat, one that could not be swallowed, even if domhnall was kind enough to ask him to relax. the house was dark, the wind battered the sides of a home that threatened to fall down, and kit was sitting in a chair with his back to the only exit he knew about. out of every moment he found himself to be a fool, the one where he agreed to get that tome, and the other where he agreed to drink tea alongside an assumed insomniac with a penchant for creepy folklore, had to be the biggest two. his seat was nice enough, and the scent of tea calmed several nerves on the surface of his being, but it wasn't nearly enough for kit to be rid of his anxieties. not when he saw the other's talon - like nails run along the cover of the book, and certainly not when domhnall spoke again; kit was suddenly unsure if he was glad or angry that kit had delivered it to him.

should he even admit he looked at it? more than that, he opened it, using the ( limited ) tools he had to translate some of the words inside. kit believed there were things out there he didn't want to know about. there was something in him, after all, but the thought of - what was the direct translation? undead and bloodsucker . . . vampires had been a myth for a long time. even as a kid, kit believed the only monsters were human ones. staring at domhnall's hands now . . . he tried to pick up his cup, but trembling hands kept him from doing so. he laid them in his lap instead and pretended he was waiting for the drink to cool down. 'fully? no. though i admit, i might have been . . . a bit too curious, for my own good,' kit cleared his throat, brows creased as eyes moved up to domhnall. he could swear the other's eyes had pinpoint lights in them, but his stare didn't linger long enough to find out. 'is he . . . does that mean something to you?' he should not ask questions he might not want the answers to, but again - sometimes he couldn't help himself.

as he brought the book into his lap, the vampire leaned back and draped an arm at the back of the couch he sat upon. his other hand remained atop the book as if he were scared it would disappear from in front of him. at kit remarking he had been too curious, domhnall smiles. who wouldn't be curious when asked to find a very specific ancient text? and maybe part of him counted on it. the shop owner could acclimatize himself to the potential that his acquaintance was not alive in the traditional sense. ❝ he, well, how should i put this? ❞ pointed nails rapped gently on the cover as he thought of what else he could say other than thce obvious. he could use a sort of metaphor and call him family. but, even that ... would be suspicious considering how old this book was. ancestor maybe?