Thwack

Saint's fist had collided with Damian's jaw before he could form a coherent thought. Nonetheless, he did not regret it. Saint glared over at the foolish teen and growled at him, "My men choose to follow me and I do everything I can. The main difference between me and Society is that I understand one thing: a leader needs to serve the ones he would lead. It is through showing genuine loyalty and care for them that causes them to give the cause their all willingly. Society is a distortion of that premise. They drug you and lie to you until your thoughts only echo what they tell you."

He unbuttoned his shirt, proudly displaying scars that crisscrossed his chest, some from burns, others from bullets, some from dogs, and quite a few stab wounds, "Your leaders have artificially soft skin, a result from no work and their own sick experiments.

"Society modifies heroin to put it in food, drinks, other drugs. It creates a physical addiction to the drug, causing pain when you go into withdrawal." Angel explained, struggling to keep her voice cool, eyes resting on Saint.

Saint's gaze softened. He squeezed her shoulder before continuing.

"You have two choices. We can treat you for your withdrawal in exchange for your cooperation or you can ride it out on your own. I wouldn't recommend the latter. I've seen people who have chosen that for myself."

Angel couldn't honestly say that Damian didn't deserve the almighty smack that Saint just gave him. He'd been asking for asking for it. His face was in a sorry state though, covered in fresh and dry blood and blossoming bruises. His nose was broken at the very least. 

As Saint displayed his many battle scars, something that despite a flicker of pride in him, in any other situation she would have mocked him for later, she found herself wondering if Saint had just reasoned with him, or had simply broken his jaw. 
Probably the latter.

She looked up as she felt a hand on her shoulder, flashing Saint a weak smile. The small gesture of reassurance, with just a hint of affection was marred by Damian as he spat again, frustration entering his voice now. "Never." He growled, "What makes her so important to you, then? There are dozens, like us, and bastards like you. Why did you take my sister?"

"I think we should leave," Angel muttered softly, wanting to get out before either male did or said something they would later regret.  "He knows nothing. Let him ride it out on his own, like anyone else."

She turned to leave the room, and almost immediately Damian perked up again, mouthing something before he changed his mind. 
"I think I preferred her blonde, what do you think, Saint?"

Her fists clenched and her jaw tensed as she bit back her answer. She was at the door, hand on resting on the latch. 

"Tell her that dad says hi."

Frozen facing the door, Angel's body began to shake. Just a little at first, but it slowly and surely became noticeable. 
"Saint?"

"What makes her so important to you, then? There are dozens, like us, and bastards like you. Why did you take my sister?"

Saint shook his head. There was no use reasoning with him at the moment, but before he left, he couldn't help but answer that last question.

"I didn't chose her. She chose me."

With that said, he left with Angel, not deigning anymore of Damien's words with a response. As soon as they were out the door, however, he noticed her shaking and his manner softened. Checking to see no one was looking, he wrapped an arm around her.

"I'm here. Is there anything you want to say?" he asked her gently.

"Like what?" Angel snapped, turning to Saint. She glared at him accusingly for a moment, before her anger subsided and she shook her head softly. "I'm sorry." She leaned in closer to him as she realized she was still shaking. "I'm just so..." She shook her head, sighing frustratedly. "He's my brother, Saint. I've gone from having you as all the family I have, to having a constant reminder of my old life, right here, with no warning, no... anything. Because as bad as it was, my family is there, and sometimes I..." 

It came flooding out all at once, but she halted almost as quickly as she'd started. She shook her head again, suddenly finding a hole in her pants very interesting. "Seven years isn't long enough. I'm not ready." Her voice was little more than a whisper, a degree of bitterness remaining in her voice. She rested her head against his shoulder, staying silent for a few moments. "You know how long it took me the first time."

"There's no need to be sorry," Saint told her with a shrug. True, it hurt for her to glare at him like that, but he knew she didn't mean it. He placed a hand on her shoulder and listened to her with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"They're your family, it's natural to miss them," he told her, memories of his own from when he was a kid flashing through his mind as he told her this. He wandered around the building with her, not really heading towards any place in particularly as he listened to her. At her latest statement, he nodded slightly, remembering both the withdrawal and homesickness she went through. Angel was a lot different than the girl she was when she first came here.

"I don't know what will happen now," he told her, "But we'll see this through. You're stronger than you think."

Dusk was once again soaked to the skin as she entered through the front door again, but this time, she was sober... Well, soberer. She'd spent most of her time sitting on a doorstep of a ruined apartment building. The place where she and Saint grew up. Of course, it had been in slightly better condition back then, enough to be habitable. The once word pounded over and over inside her head... Why?

Why did he reject her so outright?

Why did he love Angel, a lost little Society girl, when she'd been by his side their entire lives?

Why didn't she realize earlier? If things had worked out differently, it would be that pathetic little princess out here now, not her.

She sulked in past some of the fighters, men mainly, but the occasional woman mixed in amongst them. Each and every one more than capable of holding their own against anyone else, male or female. She felt a few glares burn the back of her head, but she brushed them off. They didn't matter. Sinking into a chair in the corner, she sighed heavily, ignoring the curious looks she was receiving, and oblivious to her dripping hair and soaked clothes. The rest got back to their card playing, gun-cleaning and gossiping. There she silently fumed until she was approached by a rather unfortunate creature asking if she was okay. The dark hair and the height combined was enough to end her into a fury, and despite being much smaller, she floored the woman with ease, pommeling the poor woman until two men grabbed her under the arms and pulled her away, still swinging.
"She ain't righ' in the 'ead. Some un' aught'a get Saint..."
Calming down a fraction, Dusk could see that the woman on the floor looking nothing like Angel, and that her fists were hurting like hell. Dragged out out of the lounge, she shrugged off the two with a scowl, stumbling forward and attempting and failing to regain some dignity. She skulked through the corridors for a while, before eventually sinking down onto the ground with her head in her hands. What was she going to do? Even if Angel didn't literally kill her, Saint would never look her in the eyes again. Twisted around her little finger...

Footsteps approached, and peering around the corner, Dusk could make out two figures, male and female. Saint and Angel. Saint had his arm around Angel, who looked genuinely upset about something. They were talking in hushed tones, but then Saint must have said something to cheer her up a bit, because her face lightened a fraction. Then she could have swore that the raven-haired woman looked in her direction for a split second. She remained where she was, beneath his arm for a moment, before turning to press her lips softly against Saint's cheek, whispering something into his ear. Seriously love, what on earth would I do without you?
Dusk flushed with anger, rising to her feet as the peck on the cheek was proceeded by a kiss on the lips. They were in earshot now, Angel was smiling her little smile now, the kind she wore when she had the inside track, and wasn't sharing.
"I think that maybe you were right about the chicken this morning."

Well, two could play at this game... Or would it be three? Dusk gathered herself up, turning around the corner as casually as she could, feigning mild surprise at seeing them both.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," She said, with much more venom that she'd intended to use.

[Crash gave me the OK to control Angel for a little bit. ^^]

"Seriously love, what on earth would I do without you?"

"I don't know. Find another guy that is strong, charming, clever, and ridiculously handsome?" Saint asked with a slight grin, deciding to lighten the mood as they both needed it after dealing with her brother. He did not know what they were going to do with him, but for now, he had to stay locked up. He was too dangerous to set loose as if he slipped away, he'd only bring Society right to their doorstep.

He looked up when he heard Dusk's voice, filled with more venom than she usually had when addressing Angel. His expression fell. He had hoped that time on her own may have dulled the hurt, but it didn't sound like it. He just hoped that she wasn't looking for a fight. Dusk was one of his closest friends and he was still kicking himself for not noticing how she had liked him all these years. Not to mention he could have let her down more gently.

"Not at all, Dusk. How are you?" he asked with a concerned look on his face.

Dusk's eyes flashed at Saint's response, and she hadn't missed the cheeky grin he'd given Angel. It was taking every drop of her willpower to keep her fists by her sides. Not even the knowledge that Angel could be the likely winner in any fight was helping to restrain her at the moment.
"How are you?"
"How am I?" Dusk repeated mockingly, "How am I?" She felt like he'd just ripped out her heart and spat on it. She'd been shot and stabbed, and it had been less painful. For heaven's sake, he hadn't even taken his arm from around her shoulders. "How do you think I am?"
She wanted to scream. Just looking at the now... Her fist was through the wall before she knew it. She regretted the action almost straight away, clutching her broken fingers as she sank back down to the ground, blood dripping freely from her hand to the floor. She remained silent for a moment, biting back tears.
"I hope you're happy, you fucking whore," She shouted, as the tears began to stream down her cheeks. "Out of all the goddamn bitches, why the fuck did it have to be you? Why you?"

"Modest too," Angel teased, grateful for the lighter turn of conversation, slipping her arm around Saint's waist. She thought she'd glimpsed Dusk, and if she had, there was no harm in underlining just who was in charge. Who Saint was only interested in. When the woman appeared, her vicious response had surprised even Angel. She didn't look well... she didn't look stable. For the first time, she felt something that like sympathy towards the other woman. How would she feel if someone tried to take Saint away from her? Her grip tightened slightly on him for a moment before she tried to subtly put a hand on his arm to dislodge it.
Dusk's response to Saint's concern... She'd never seen anything like it. She instinctively took a step backwards, her hand reaching towards her gun. The woman then just slid to the floor, blood pouring from her broken hand. She honestly didn't know what to do when she started screaming at her, taking another step backwards.

"Dusk, I never meant for you to get hurt. I just never felt that way for you. You're like my sister," Saint told his friend honestly, concern showing in his eyes. He didn't like the way she held herself nor did he like the crack he heard when she punched the wall. He slid down next to Dusk, glancing at her hand and the blood spurting out of it.

"You should get that treated," he told her and, glancing at her soaked clothes, continued, "And some dry clothes."

Dusk remained silent for a few moments, eyes shut tight, tears still spilling down her cheeks, even as she felt a second body beside her. Like a sister. He was still avoiding the question... Why was it Angel? What made her different to anyone else, what made her different to Dusk. Sure, she carried a shroud of mystery around her where ever she went, but Saint knew everything about her, didn't he? Even her birth name, or so the rumors claimed. She was pretty, but so were a lot of others.
"Sorry." Dusk barely heard her own voice, she didn't know if Saint heard it. She sighed heavily, wincing slightly as the adrenaline rush disappeared, and she could feel the pain throbbing in her hand. "I'm an idiot, aren't I? Shoulda seen it coming."
Mmm, booze and blood loss didn't go well together. She was getting lightheaded, a little nauseous. Her eyes drooped slightly, and she found herself resting her head against Saint's shoulder. "Why though. Why?" She murmured.

Saint quickly placed his arm on Dusk's back as she leaned against him, like she had so many times in the past when they were kids without parents or any one else to take care of them. He was a little glad that she wasn't yelling or running away from him now, but he was still angry at himself for hurting her so much. He should have seen this coming. Sure, Dusk was like a kid sister to him, but that didn't mean whas was going to feel the same way. At he question, he thought for a moment.

"Angel's special. Sure, she can get on your wrong side sometimes, but she has a kind heart, especially for someone growing up the way she did with hedonism and selfishness crammed down her throat along with the orders be obedient. She's saved my life many times and we grew close. And then, well, I don't know how it grew into a relationship, but it did," Saint told his friend honestly, not wanting to lie to her. He frowned, however, as she seemed to be falling unconscious.

"We need to have you looked at," he muttered.

Angel watched the scene unfold silently, increasingly on edge. Dusk was unstable at the moment, and an unstable mind was a dangerous one. So there she was, hovering nervously, in case that she did something to Saint or to herself. He wouldn't forgive himself if something happened to her, especially if it were by her own hand. 

In any other circumstance she would have been flattered by Saint's words, but now she only saw the woman lolling beside him. She moved over quickly to the pair, quickly checking Dusk over, removing any weapons as she came across them. She would undoubtedly be berated for it, but it was for all of their sakes. 

Experienced hands finally moved over Dusk's injuries, the dark haired woman frowning slightly. "I think she's broken some fingers," She muttered, glancing at Saint from the corner of her eye.