Lander/Jason flew through the sky above the burning light of NYC.

It had been about two months since that day in the apartment. Jason tried not to think about it, but it was quite hard. he had left his mom in dad's hospital room, and he often regretted the terms of the escape from his old life.
"You probably shouldn't have jumped from a third story window." Sighed Lander. He wasn't really trying to insult Jason; But no matter what way he said it, the reminder hurt.
"Shut up," Retorted Jason. His patience had really been tested since Lander entered his life. For one, he couldn't hurt Lander physically OR mentally, no matter how annoyed he got. He was like a clam, that guy.

Jason was so deep in thought, He wasn't paying attention to Lander's warnings until he flew into a brick building, fell into a side alley, and went unconscious.

"That wasn't subtle."

Sariel folded her Realtor magazine and tucked it into her side bag, hurrying across the street to the fallen seraph. Her heels clacked across the pavement and then went silent. Without glancing down, she knew her shoes had encountered the worst of NY grit, and that no amount of cleaning could bring them back. The sour smell of aging garbage hit her like a wall.

"Are you drunk? What gave you the idea that you could fly in a city, huh? They have cameras everywhere. Skyscrapers. Tourists. It's a no-fly zone," Sariel rattled on, infuriated at the boy's stupidity, at the street cleaners that never did alleys, at her government for rushing the evacuation to Earth, and everything that was going wrong to prevent her scouting out a secondary location for Elysia. She had no patience to deal with this. She nudged his crumpled form, rolling him a bit so his face was more in her direction and less in the asphalt's. Bending in close with her nose almost touching his, she snarled, "Wake up, fledgling."

Jason's body, with Lander's soul in control at the moment, seeing as how Jason was unconscious, decided that this wasn't a good person to be around. he kicked up into Sariel's stomach, trying to knock the wind out of her. then he did a backflip and pulled a pistol out of it's holster. He was about to shoot when he decided he'd better squeeze for info first.
"And you are?" He unflinchingly tightened his grip to get the point across that he was ready to kill.

Oomph. A tender pain erupted through her stomach muscles, worsened by automatic clenching against the blow. She wasn't accustomed to pain, especially her own, but the academic portion of her brain supplied the knowledge that the ache from this assault would linger, the damage done to her vulnerable organs continuing to grieve her while internal bruises slowly formed. It was a dirty way to fight, and precisely the way an animal might strike at the stomach to bring down a bigger animal, instinctively attacking to bring about the most damage. She bit her tongue and glared at the trash strewn alley. Exactly like an animal. Playing dead and then attacking.

Bitingly polite, she straightened, suppressing a wince at the fresh burst of pain, "Oh good, you're awake." She crossed her arms, her bag bumping against her hip. If he continued, she wasn't going to let him use the fresh injury against her.

Her eyes followed the short barrel up his arms and to his face. Sariel ignored his question, taking a long look at him now that he was less horizontal and considerably more alert. Young. A boy child. The shell was irrelevant. The seraph within was the only thing she had business with. He had hit a building. She'd heard of incomplete transitions, where the seraph experienced motor trouble and could not completely control the shell. But it was unlikely here. He'd been too agile when lashing out at her, the flip near impossible for a seraph without intact control.

Subtle movement. He was squeezing the trigger. "You don't hesitate to add insult to injury. Why are you pointing that at me? Turn it one-eighty and plant one between the eyes that made you kiss brick." Her pride forced her to drop the anger from her voice. She'd gone to him to help, and there was little sense in antagonizing him. But he'd killed the desire to help him, so suppressing her usual snarkiness wasn't warranted. "Or did I miss something? Perhaps this is an elaborate vengeance. Do you have cause to hate me? To wish me dead? No. You don't even know who I am." Let him sink that in. Few who threatened life were in the habit of killing strangers, and she attributed those few to humans, not civilized seraphim.