Darren
Darren smiled slightly at the angels little jibe. Seems we've got a witty one.
"Look around us Charoum. All there is, as far as the eye can see, is destruction and devastation. Mindless slaughter and chaos. Perhaps, in such circumstances, you will allow me to savor some joy in my own petty witticisms. I have yet to find any anywhere else." Darren gazed out across the city, sober for a moment. He had been living here for the past 6 years, and the city felt like home. Seeing it like this reminded him of... things best forgotten. "It is so easy to lose yourself to sadness and hate. We all need something to cling to, or we lose sight of who we are."
Darren looked the angel over. To be frank, he was a mess. Mismatched armor, blood and dirt still covering him, and wings that were crippled and malformed. Yet he still carried himself with absolution, and purpose. Despite this he managed to look at ease. Well, not truly at ease. Years of Karate and self-defense classes allowed Darren to recognize a defensive stance. Power or not, Darren knew that without that knowledge and skill he would have long ago perished. He also knew that that knowledge and skill would be for naught against this angel. He sheathed the swords, to show that he meant no harm. Besides, Azrukhal was in no shape to attack anyone.
"Thank you, for giving me the benefit of the doubt. I have seen enough of demons first hand to know that I would gain nothing serving them. I would either become one of them, or, when I had served my purpose, I would perish. Speaking of demons, I see that you are master of a Hell-hound. How did that come to happen?"