Kicked Out of Hell

“Well, that’s a shame, then. Maybe some day. I’d hate for you to have to clear time in your schedule just to talk to me,” she said, shrugging vaguely. “We’ll see, I suppose.”

He turned his look back to Kay, and said with a smile, “If you have somewhere to go, by all means…” He made a sweeping gesture at the door, as if he were a game show host announcing a prize. “I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”

“Yes,” she said after a moment, her face closed off and her voice controlled, and looked back at Metatron again. “Do drop by sometime. I’m sure we have a lot to talk about.”

Resisting the urge to glance again at either of them, she folded her coat and strode past him and to the door, slowly enough that it couldn’t be called fleeing. She turned the handle and stepped out into the light.

Outside, she walked off briskly, feeling the prickle of the Archangel’s aura at her back every step of the way.

“That’s a shame,” Delilah said, more because she was supposed to than genuine sentiment. “I suppose you must be busy so I won’t keep you.”

Let him be under no illusion that she was obliged to answer him, however. He was the one who’d barged in, she didn’t owe him one second of her time.

Instead, she took her eyes off the Metatron completely for the first time since he’d entered, and turned to Delilah with a polite smile. “I don’t expect so, no. Not really my part of town. Though if you’ve got anything to talk about - exchange experiences, that sort of thing - I guess I wouldn’t mind finding the time.” She shrugged, and made a vague gesture. “Or not, if you’d prefer - I mean, we only know each other in the first place because of that one time I really needed a drink. It’s not like we share a bunch of hobbies.” There. Now he couldn’t fault her for not answering his question.

His expression melted into a smile when Delilah set the coffee down in front of him. “Thanks, darling.”

He gave it an experimental sip, and smiled at her even more warmly. “Divine.”

It was bad enough that she’d gotten pretty damn close to out-of-commission-for-the-next-week in front of Ruth, she wasn’t quite willing to explain what happened and why to the angel as well. Plus it didn’t quite seem fair to throw Ruth under the bus either, since she hadn’t known just what she was poking at. Even if she did feel that her thoughts ought to remain her own…

A low whine sounded from next to her. Looking around, she saw Samson having backed away a bit at the sudden appearance of the Metatron and the resulting cold war between him and Ruth, seeming unsure what to do. Digging into her pocket for a treat, Delilah held it out to the poodle, murmuring, “It’s alright, come on…” This was… undesirable, to say the least, but well, it wasn’t like she was expecting this to happen often. Despite seeming to have second thoughts about it, Samson at least trotted up and ate the treat, settling in watchfully again, earning herself a pet in reward.

Distracted and only-half-listening as she was in addition to the medication, the meaning behind the angel’s words took a second longer than it usually might’ve to sink in, faint surprise colouring Delilah’s features for half a second before settling into an exasperated, though fond, look. “Working, love, and I will be for another few hours,” she answered. “I’m not quite desperate enough to have my way with you on company time. Now the coffee, on the other hand, I can do.”

She looked around, still standing awkwardly a few feet from the stools, and flinched when something brushed at her legs. Looking down, she relaxed a little as the poodle trotted past her, towards her mistress. At least it looked like the most immediate danger she was in was being exposed to public indecency, and that was helping her heart rate calm down a little.

“– wait, what?” she interrupted any answer to that last comment Ruth could have given, turning to her. “You’re a demon? Seriously? What the hell was all the dancing around the question earlier about, then, before you –” Delilah cut herself off there, biting her lip, not particularly wanting to think back to the thoughtless comment that had caused her reaction. Shaking her head slightly, she amended, “Nevermind. Don’t answer that.”

“Thanks,” she she said, mechanically closing her fingers around the bottle, relieved when the human turned away again. She’d done this before, and after only a moment of prodding, she was in.

It was… overwhelming, having someone else’s mind so close to hers, and that reminded her to keep herself at a distance, shining a light and observing but not touching. Everything was… tangled, the way something looks when it’s orderly on some level that’s only visible to one select person, and before she was ready for it, the other’s emotions were reaching up at her like the splash of a murky swamp.

Past the slippery chill of it, it felt…. almost familiar, the same cocktail of  apprehension and carefully suppressed panic-fear-pain that seemed to lick right at her old scabs. She almost flinched away, but caught sight of a speck of something more structured - knowledge, thoughts, something she could use, and was about to lean in and sniff at it some more-

Regardless, on an official level, demons were still classed as enemy agents to be disposed of accordingly. And Metatron had met enough that delighted in unpleasantness to panic (but only slightly) at the sudden flare-up of demonic power that he sensed coming from the area of Delilah’s bar, where he thought he might stop in for a cup of coffee.

In that moment, of panic, he forgot his resolution to start using the bar’s front door to come in rather than simply appearing.

Giving Samson one last pet for now, she stepped over to the fridge, glancing at it for a second to try and work out if Ruth had ordered beer the last time. Figuring she couldn’t remember if she did, Delilah picked a bottle at random – black sheep ale, apparently. “Here,” she said, placing it and a beer glass down in front of her. “My treat, as promised.”

“Thanks,” she she said, mechanically closing her fingers around the bottle, relieved when the human turned away again. She’d done this before, and after only a moment of prodding, she was in.

It was... overwhelming, having someone else’s mind so close to hers, and that reminded her to keep herself at a distance, shining a light and observing but not touching. Everything was... tangled, the way something looks when it’s orderly on some level that’s only visible to one select person, and before she was ready for it, the other’s emotions were reaching up at her like the splash of a murky swamp.

Past the slippery chill of it, it felt.... almost familiar, the same cocktail of  apprehension and carefully suppressed panic-fear-pain that seemed to lick right at her old scabs. She almost flinched away, but caught sight of a speck of something more structured - knowledge, thoughts, something she could use, and was about to lean in and sniff at it some more-

Crap, crap, crap. This was going too far, wasn’t it? Pouncing on the other part of Ruth’s comments with a bit too much enthusiasm than it really warranted, Delilah said, “It’s not so much the personal needs, though that helps, but the personal cues. Whoever trains the dogs might have a different set of mannerisms that would clue in a dog that something’s wrong, so – so that’s another reason why personally trained dogs are generally considered better.”

As a lull in the conversation set in, she kept watching Delilah surreptitiously, trying to get a handle on her. It would explain a lot, wouldn’t it? If Delilah was one of them. It didn’t have to mean she was malevolent - after all, she was pretty sure that thing that had caught them all in a collective dream hadn’t hurt anybody (that she knew of) - but it didn’t mean she was harmless, either. They could make their auras feel like anything they wanted them to feel, she already knew that much. Hell, it could even explain Metatron’s odd interest in her - the servant of Chaos she knew had certainly caught Lucifer’s eye in a very strange way, as much as even skirting that thought made her want to barf.

When Ruth seemed to be quiet for a few moments, Delilah sipped at her water again, nearly choking on it when the question took her off-guard. She hadn’t noticed she’d frozen until there was a nudge at her hand for her to continue. “S-Sammy, you mean?” Delilah asked, looking over at the dog in question.

“Y-yeah, she is. She’s a certified service dog. Psychiatric one, not mobility assistance,” she elaborated, somewhat unnecessarily. “When I get… when I get like I did just now,” she stammered, “she’s trained to do stuff like that to distract me and help ground me a bit. Usually it helps, or at least until my medication starts kicking in.”

“...Is it hard to get a hold of one of those?” she asked hesitantly, oddly sheepish about the question. “Like, from what I’ve heard there’s... waiting lists, and stuff. Or did you train her yourself, and get her certified after?”

She spent a few moments in silence, struggling to think of something to talk about, and her eyes drifted to the poodle again. “Is  that an, um,” Kay began, nodding to the dog, “specially trained dog, or something?” she asked, hesitant to allude to earlier more clearly. “It kind of looked like it for a moment.”

Even as she waited for an answer, it struck her painfully, suddenly, what situation she was in - if this was one of Chaos’s servants, she was in danger, but somehow her senses had failed to catch up with that. She swallowed harshly, adrenaline flooding her body and her heart skipping a beat at the sudden unwelcome thought - what if it was that thing?

Falling silent for a moment, Delilah searched for something else to say, not entirely sure what would work and what wouldn’t. “Ruth, huh?” ended up being the thought she decided to pursue. “Nice name. Were your parents religious too? Or maybe not. Don’t think there’s many people who remember the biblical one nowadays.”

Her thoughts were racing, but Delilah’s next question made them stumble and pause. “Actually, they... kind of were. Religious. My mom, at least. Or- well, she is. I don’t really get along with her, though. Haven’t seen her in ages and ages, and never really met my dad,” she said with another careless shrug, bitterness turning the words more serious than they were meant to be. It felt odd - she’d given cover stories before, but it had been a while since she’d had to last, and she’d gone for something more straightforward than she’d meant to.

Rubbing her eyes, Delilah glanced over at the coffee cup the customer was fidgeting with, staring at it for a second, a thought drifting up slowly. “Want me to refill that?” she asked, gesturing at it. “Probably cold by now, right? My treat,” she offered, smiling a touch too late to feel entirely natural.

“So wait, I give you a freakout and you want to pay for my refill? How does that figure?” she asked, eyes calculating as she watched her face. The way Delilah’s smile had stumbled when she’d offered the refill set off all sorts of unpleasant alarm bells in her gut and had her surreptitiously glancing towards the bottles and containers on the other side of the bar. She didn’t look like the sort of human who’d keep a pitcher of holy water on hand just in case, but looks could certainly be deceiving.

Drinking the water sip by sip, Delilah scrambled for a subject to talk about that didn’t disagree with either one of them, coming up blank, her thoughts sluggish and feeling like they scattered as soon as she tried to pick at them. Ugh. She hated this…

Putting the glass in the sink, movements almost exaggeratedly careful to try and keep her hands steady – feeling like maybe she could get this back under control one thing at a time, Delilah glanced quickly at the girl, then away again, keeping up the petting.

“...Isra,” she said again, reaching for the abandoned remains of her coffee again and idly stirring it with the spoon. “Got named after.... some saint or other, I think, I’m not really an expert on those things. I don’t really use the name, myself.”

She did read her mind then. That had actually happened, she hadn’t just imagined it. She wasn’t going insane. More importantly, she was safe. …mostly. She still didn’t know what this girl was, but at least it didn’t have any relation to him.

“Thanks,” she muttered, straightening up a bit, ruffling Samson’s ears one last time. Swallowing with some difficulty, Delilah looked up, eyes flitting briefly to her face then away again. “I’d… I’d appreciate that. Not talking about this any more, I mean.”

Glancing at the human again, then at the dog, then at the chairs, where her coat was still hanging messily off the back of the stool she’d occupied. Sighting the distraction she needed, she picked it up and began folding it more neatly while keeping an eye on Delilah. She still wasn’t sure how exactly the human had interpreted her words, but either way, she seemed calmer now, and that was a massive improvement.

“Don’t lie to me,” she said, forcing the words out as she placed the bottle back. “I didn’t… I didn’t say a damn thing about any of that to you. Not this time, not the last time. You just suddenly started talking about it out of nowhere and –” Voice quivering dangerously, Delilah gripped the counter to steady herself, another attempt at remembering how to breathe going a bit better than the last one, but not much.

Finally daring to look at the girl again, Delilah snapped, “So either someone set you up to this and I should be calling the police or something or you – or you somehow managed to read my mind. You’re not supposed to know any of that, so how come you do? What are you? Are you even human or did you read my mind somehow?”

Could she do that? Pretend she was in on it with someone else, then turn tail and run? Blending 101 would deem it the better option, she wouldn’t be blowing her cover at the very least , but... Kay narrowed her eyes slightly, watching the human’s shaky figure with a stab of sympathy she couldn’t quite parry. It wouldn’t be hard to feign such distress - she’d done it herself, she knew - but, and this made her resolve loosen and crumble into uncertainty, she also recalled countless times she was painfully, keenly glad to have been taken seriously when she’d meant it. She wasn’t sure why she should care about that now, by all means she knew better than to buy into cosmic karma or repaying like with like.

She swallowed, shifting awkwardly (she wasn’t sure when she’d slipped to her feet, but she was standing now) as her hand fidgeted over the back of the stool.