10883/What's A Little Punch Between Friends

What's A Little Punch Between Friends
Date of Scene:	24 April 2022
Location:	The Velvet Room
Synopsis:	Cael punches Chas, and Jon energy-punches a wall. None of it helps much.
Cast of Characters:	Chas Chandler, Cael Becker, Jonathan Sims

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Chas Chandler has posed:
    The Training room of The Velvet Room seems to conform to the needs of the ones who enter it, when there is an intent. When there isn't the door leads to a vast empty chamber of blue stone and hard packed dark earth. There is light, subdued but plentiful enough to see by coming from... somewhere, it's possible the stones are somehow bioluminescent in nature.

    Chas steps into the room and looks around. "Huh... this... doesn't seem entirely possible given the size of the castle itself. But..." he shrugs, "It -is- the astral." He is dressed in jeans and a collared shirt of dark grey and his usual combat boots. His long coat of dark leather he left in the sitting room.

    He knew what he was getting into with this meeting. But he didn't like it and he didn't like the possibility that Cael would get hurt by it. His own wellbeing... inconsequential, even without the number of usable souls in him, if he was as much an angel as people have said... dying wasn't exactly easy for him. Still, he hasn't entirely said much or looked at Cael since she arrived, beyond offering a wave of casual greeting.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Even fully prepared for it - coming face to face with Chas yet again is harder than Cael would ever like to admit. The horrific memories of that terrible day remain more powerful than she'd like, despite her attempts to remove the sting of the memories through repeated retellings. Glaring at the man, her hand tightens on Jon's as she offers a simple, tense nod and allows herself to be lead towards the Training Room - she wasn't even aware there was a training room. Only through deliberate concentration and force of will does she keep her breathing steady and even, rather than allowing herself to lapse into panic.
    Once in the room, she pulls her hand free and rather than rounding on Chas immediately - she begins to pace, her gaze turned away from the man.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon is the one who set this up, suggesting they meet in the Velvet Room and only vaguely aware there /was/ a Training Room. He knew there were other rooms in general, just not this specifically. He looks around as they come in and raises his eyebrows. "Huh. This is... interesting."

    He sighs as Cael pulls away and starts to pace, and turns to Chas. "I suggested Cael wear the amulet, this one last time. So that we won't have to worry quite so much about what might happen to her." He glances aside at his girlfriend, frowning, then sticks his hand in his jean pocket. "I s'pose an apology would be a start."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas agrees that apaology is the place to start, but... what to apologize for. There is so much he has to be sorry for in this endeavor. Sorry a rogue archangel tried to murder you. Sorry he stole my body to do it. Sorry he -did- kill Jon. Sorry he took Jon's arm. Sorry he brought an invasion force to Manhattan that led to mayem and carnage all over the island.

    He decides to go with the root of the issue entirely. "I'm sorry I summoned Michael and started the whole mess that he caused" he says frowning. He's not even bracing himself for imminent attack. If Cael is going to punch him through a wall, he is going to face it head on. To him... she holds the privelege for that. "I'm just... sorry for all of it. I'm not asking for forgiveness..." and by his tone he isn't. He sounds like he doesn't feel he deserves it. "But I do want to at least start on bridging the divide towards atonement."

Cael Becker has posed:
    An apology.
    Words are so fucking inadequate when it comes to everything that happened. The people that died. The memories - and the nightmares they fuel. Her hands clench and unclench as she walks - leaning into her anger, rather than letting the remembered fear, and helplessness overwhelm her like they threaten to do.
    "It doesn't fucking //fix// anything, does it?" she answers, still pacing.
    Will punching him fix any of it?
    "He tortured nine people to death. He got in their heads and made them //want// it. We can't undo any of that."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon settles themself against the wall near the door, hand still in his pocket, watching the two of them with a slight frown. They came along so Cael wouldn't feel alone facing Chas... and also so she doesn't go /too/ far, given that he can tell his friend would probably let her pummel him into oblivion if she could.

    Dark eyes flick between the two and then he sighs and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one up and taking a long draw from it, blowing the smoke away from the pair. He's there, if they need him.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas winces at the sharp reply. "No. We can't. We can only accept what was done, and move forward with the promise to ensure it never happens again..." he says flatly. He knew words alone wouldn't fix anything. But they were what he had. That and his own pain if she wanted to take the offer.

    His blue eyes, not too unlike the Archangel's now, shine in the ambient light of the room. "I can't take back what he did. I can't take back what -I- did, I can only move forward and trust those I have around me." He looks at Jon briefly and then at Cael. "And for me that means you two... and others."

    He shakes his head. "I don't expect or even deserve reciprocation, but I don't get to choose that. That choice lies with the people around me and how they feel about the things I did and the things my actions led to."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Trust those he has around him? "We're not... fucking //friends,//" Cael hisses out, stopping her pacing as she turns to glare at Chas - and even advance on him several paces. "Why the hell would you trust me? Why the hell should I trust you?" she asks bluntly - her attention focused solely on the man in front of her, as if Jon weren't even in the room.
    "Your fucking face is the stuff of nightmares for me. //Literal// nightmares. Why the hell would I-" She cuts off as her jaw clenches tight, and her fingernails dig into her palms at her side.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Admittedly," Jon murmurs from where he's holding up the wall, "I expect that Chas would /rather/ not be on the outs with his mate's girlfriend. But he's been able to see what's been going on. What we did, how we fought. So maybe that's why he trusts you. As for you trusting him..."

    He sighs, and takes another long drag on the cigarette. "You've got no reason to trust him," he says, finally, bluntly. "Trust is built, and earned. Even /without/ the Michael business, you don't know each other. That takes time. The question is what it takes to be able to start building that."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas points at Jon. "They speak the truth..." he says, easily falling into the change in pronouns. "You sort of -have- to now, if I'm understanding you right...yeah?" he asks, turning briefly to face his friend.

    He shrugs and looks back at Cael. "I'm not looking for your trust, or your friendship. Not yet anyway, but I am looking to find what you need for that to start getting built." He looks around the massive open room.

    "If that's you beating me into another incarnation..." he spreads his arms wide, "have at it. If it's you yelling and tearing into me verbally. Please, be my guest." He drops his arms. "If it's something else... tell me and we'll work on making it reality. I just... I don't want to be at odds with you, especially if we have to work together against something external. Not saying it's going to happen soon or anything, but it'll likely happen."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael finally looks towards Jon, her expression still tense, and her jaw tight. It's a little unclear if she's trying to rein in fear, fury, or nausea - possibly because it's a little of each. Her gaze lingers there for a few moments, before looking to Chas again - and letting out a humorless laugh. "Fuck - you think I //know//?" she asks. They want her to be able to work with this man? How the hell can that ever be possible.
    "I want to beat the shit out of you. I just don't think it'll actually do any fucking good. I can't look at you. Not without-"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Cael, love," Jon says softly, "Stop /thinking/ and just... look, you wore the amulet for a reason. This is a space you can afford to give in to whatever you're feeling and let it out. So /do/ that."

    A pause, and then they say, "Or... do you just need a hug...?" Gods, should he have just sat them down to have a drink together and talk instead of suggesting violence? They run the emerald hand through their hair, and take another puff on the cigarette, agitated.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas holds up a hand to stall Jon's suggestion. "No. No. This is fine. If she needs to build up to it then she needs to build up..." He looks back at Cael. "You can't see me without going back to the room, right?" he says. "The small pools of golden light barely giving enough illumination to the empty, windowless space, right? Him in the chair, pushing you to relive everything you did."

    His expression is relaxed and collected. "I was there... locked behind his eyes... but I was there. I saw and remember it all. For all of them." He adds. "I like Cael better than Shelley, for the record."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael freezes in place as he starts talking about the room - her voice catching in her throat. She doesn't push off towards him until he's talking about her name, pure fury finally settling over her features as she pulls back her arm to rain blow after blow down on him, backed by the power of the amulet she wears at her chest one last time. "What the fuck?" she asks. "You saw it all? You knew? While we're- investigating these damned murders?" Her questions are punctuated by blows with rhythmic regularity, as tears starts to streak for her cheeks.
    "Fuck you, Chas Chandler! Fuck you!"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon finishes off the cigarette as Chas is speaking. He knew that Chas had seen it--and he also knew that Chas /couldn't/ say anything. But it still brings up Cael's statement, and his own fear when he found out she'd been taken, the pain when she'd stabbed him...

    He reaches over to put his left hand to his right shoulder and closes his eyes to blot out the auras and tangles of emotions he can see. It hurts, if only second-hand. And Chas can handle it, at least for now. That's the point, right?

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas takes the first hit and moves with it. An old habit of his time with an old friend. He takes extra care to not react reflexively with the second, and third, and each subsequent. After the second punch, his lip splits, and red blood drips from crack. The enhanced strength from the woman's amulet sends him to a knee after the fourth.

    His own stamina can only take so much when he isn't actively relying on any power and right now, he doens't even know how to access it, much less rely on it consciously.

    Another two shots send him staggering, forcing him to rest most of his weight on a hand so as not to strike the ground.

    He could offer excuses; tell her he was under a gaeas to not speak of the killings. To keep the information from those he called friends. But it wouldn't change anything. He did what he did and saw what he saw and now... he was paying some of the price. He looks up in time to take another hard punch. He feels the skin at his brow crack open and bleed as freely as the other cuts and gashes on his face before his vision swims and he can't support himself any longer. The cool hard earth greets his cheek and feels like the worlds softest pillow after the agonized attacks from Cael's fists.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Did you know?!" Cael shouts at him between blows. "Did you know he was coming for me? //Fuck,// man!" He's probably too insensate to answer by the time she asks the question. He goes down - and for a moment, just a moment, it looks like Cael won't stop, even then.
    But she pulls herself back, pacing away from the man, then towards him again - before she aims a swift kick into his side with one booted foot. This is followed by her spitting on the man before finally stalking away, opening up enough space to keep herself from beating the man while he's down. "God damnit," she mutters, fists clenched at her side.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "He didn't know, Cael," Jon says softly, opening his eyes. "I took his statement. I saw what he knew. When Michael was using him to kill, it was like a dream... he went to sleep, he woke up, he had no idea what was going on in between. It wasn't until I came in asking about the Papal Killer that he went out to look for him... and found out that it was the angel he'd summoned."

    They push up off the wall and walk over toward Cael. "Then... he had a geas on him. He couldn't tell us, even though he wanted to. But he didn't know Michael was coming after you. He... I think he was /trying/ to tell me something was wrong, but he couldn't manage to get it out. Or I wasn't seeing it. But I know for a fact he didn't know you were a target." They swallow. "Michael did the same thing to Chas that he did to you, and to me. Reached in and controlled our minds. And it was /wrong/."

    He stands a little ways away from Cael, spreads his arms, if she wants to seek the comfort. "This is Michael's fault. It's /all/ Michael's fault. And he's dead, now."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas lays on the ground of the room for a moment, listening to Cael's screams and Jon's words. His body aches. It's a testament to some vestige of humanity he still has in him that he can feel pain. A small comfort. He pushes himself to all fours, working his jaw for a moment to get it to snap back into place.

    He's not sure what hit dislocated it for him but it pops back with an audible scratch of bone on bone and he tests it a few time. "It was the most I could get across..." he says, confirming Jon's suspicions about his own hints. "Not enough, but it was the most I could do." He puts a hand to his lip and brow, the damage already scabbed over and in the itching phase of healing. Not ideal... but not anything he could about it.

    Another groan as a rib pops back into place from the kick and he moves to his knees. "Dead and replaced. The new one seems to understand that what happened was wrong. Which... I've heard old dog and new tricks, but usally the dogs aren't as old as time itself. Older even." He still has some of his humor, which is another comfort. He's still Chas Chandler and not something else entirely.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael's gaze goes to Jon, her back turned to Chas now, and her hands clenched tightly at her side. There's a wariness in her posture and expression as they start to approach her, her weight shifting subtly away - so she's grateful when Jon comes to a stop. The opened arms are met with a slight shake of her head. "Doesn't change the fact... that it's his face I see," she counters. "I wanted to- I was going to try to kill him, you know. With that chair." She didn't see another choice.
    She doesn't look back to Chas when he starts speaking again - but she does move closer to Jon, once their arms are lowered, angling her own body to her right arm touches his left.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon frowns thoughtfully and reaches out to take Cael's hand, gently, twining their fingers together. Just that, and no more unless she moves in for it. "I wish... if it's just that it's his face, I wish we could... overwrite the memory. Put Michael's face there, because it was /Michael/ that did that to you." He hesitates. /Could/ he do that? Overwrite the memory? Would they need a stronger telepath? Or just a way to alter her dreams...?

    They shake their head. "I'm not telling you how to feel, though, Cael. I'm telling you what I know of what happened, so that you can move forward with that truth. If, knowing that, you're still furious with him... then you're furious, and that's okay. If not? If it's just that it's Chas' face over that terrible memory, and you'd rather let that go? Then I'll help you figure out how to let it go."

    He looks around at Chas, then, and says, "What are you going to do to make things right, /besides/ letting people beat you up? It's all very well to set yourself up as a punching bag, but Cael's right; it doesn't fix anything."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas flexes his hands a bit, staring at the callouses that remain. Some things he knows would stay, things acquired before the angels changed him into one of them... for all intents and purposes, but his body recovering so rapidly from injuries he would've felt for at least a day... it frightens him some.

    But Jon asked him a question. He closes his fists and looks up. "I'm going to do everything I can to ensure that no one has to go through pain of that nature again." A pause. "Or at least, I hope to once I know what I can do to help and not be in the way." He looks at Cael's back and frowns. "No one should have to suffer what he put others through. No one. No matter what their past holds." That alone separates him from those On High, he has free will and choice and can decide when to exercise restraint. He'll hold on to that distinction for as long as he exists.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "I- Jon, I don't know how much I like the thought of someone toying with my mind, or my memories," Cael points out flatly. The thought of letting anyone into her mind makes her uneasy.
    "I don't know what to do with all this yet. But I know I'm not ready to hug it all out in some big- kumbaya." She does continue to hold tightly to Jon's hand, though - accepting at least that modicum of comfort.
    "It might have been Michael, but it was still Chas's fuck up that got the ball rolling. You fuck up like that- the only moral choice is to try to make things right. To try to help more people than you hurt."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I get that. I do. I'm not saying..." Jon sighs, and runs the green hand through their hair. They sound frustrated. "Look, if I'm being honest--and I have to be--I don't think Chas deserves /any/ of this. He was Michael's first victim. Michael stepped in where he /should not have/, and /used/ Chas to kill people. Like a... a bloody /puppet/. It was one of the things that infuriated me the most. That I knew, I /knew/, that Chas would be left holding the damn bag on this." He looks to Chas. "You reached out looking for... for /help/, and got... /violated/. And you can't even seem to see that."

    He shakes his head. "But you both seem to think this is his fault, so maybe I'm wrong. So I'm... I want to let you handle it the way you need to handle it. And I think you're right that whether or not it's Chas' /fault/, it's his... it came about because of something he did. So, he needs to do /something/ to make it right, the same way I've tried to make it right because if I'd been /paying attention/ it might not have happened."

    He glowers at Chas now. "But if you're so damn guilt-ridden then... then stop with the mealy-mouthed platitudes and say something /solid/. Are you going to go demand the angels make reparations for the people they hurt? Are you going to turn yourself over to the police? Are you going to look to Cael and go 'you're the only living victim of the Papal Killer, tell me what I should do and I'll do it?' Or are you going to do the same bloody thing the angels are doing and just... faff off and pretend this never even..."

    He stops, and shifts his jaw, angrily. "This isn't /right/," he grumbles. "It's just... none of this is /right/. None of us deserved this. Gods, why am I getting angry /now/?"

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas frowns. "I'm not going to faff off, that's for damn sure" he replies. "I already offered to do whatever she thinks would be right. Maybe I wasn't clear in it, but that's what I meant." He shakes his head. "Going to the police won't fix anything."

    He runs a hand through his hair. It falls into place evenly around his face. "Even if I confess. There's no forensic evidence linking me to the crimes. But if you think me getting locked in holding for however long the proceeding will drag out, sure. I'll do it."

    "As for the angels making reparations... I don't think it'll work out. They'll get around to it eventually, sure. But it might be 20 generations down the line. I don't think they're going to be allowed to affect -anything- on Earth for a while. Michael dropped my things off and then... I get the feeling he decided that Earth is off limits. And closed the passage off to their kind." He shakes his head. "I don't know how I know, but I know."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Be fucking hypocritical of me if I told you to go to fucking jail," Cael mutters under her breath. "There's no fixing it. There's no setting it right. Going to prison is just- another life lost. Another life wasted. All you can do- all either of us can do is- try to help more people than we've hurt. Try to do more good than the pain we've caused." She says this without turning towards Chas. She genuinely doesn't want to look at the man.
    She does turn towards Jon though - breaking contact with their shoulder, while keeping hold of their hand. "You should be mad. You should be fucking furious. You were maimed, and tortured, and killed - and your girlfriend //isn't okay,// and Amit and others are //dead// - why the fuck shouldn't you be pissed? We should all be pissed."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon stares at Chas over Cael's head for a long moment. Then he peers down at her, blinking back tears. "How can they... how can they just..." He pulls away from Cael, turning away, shaking his head. "/They/ did this to us. They... they should... it isn't /right/ to... to just... not even try to..."

    He's told Cael his anger is like a flood, and it comes on that way, seeming to rise up all at once. With a wordless yell, Jon sends a gout of energy at the far wall of the empty space, and then another, and another, bolts of emerald-green light that, when they hit the ground, cause the dirt to fountain up. The wall's not terribly affected though.

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas winces at the reverberation of the blasts from Jon. He's surprised the walls don't break under the force, but if such power could take down the walls, it wouldn't be much of a training room. After the dust from one of the ground blasts settles he addresses Jon.

    "They don't understand people, Jon" he says. It's not a defense of them, not really, but it's the only explanation he has. "Look back at when they've been employed. The Creeping Death over Egypt. You're own progenitor, Uriel, was in charge of that... and it killed thousands of -children- all in the service of one who was favored. They do things to make a point, regardless of whether it's right or not. Sodom and Gamorrah: two entire cities and their people destroyed and burned and the land forced fallow because one person didn't like the type of sex people were having."

    He shake his head. "Expecting them to understand reparations for something that happened in a blink to them and was just par for the course of mortals is foolish. No. I suspect that them not being given free reign when they come around is a blessing that we should cherish. Some things are too powerful to be allowed such freedom."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael watches the explosive display of emotion from Jon with a faint frown on her features - keeping her gaze trained on her boyfriend, as her hand drops down to her side. She waits until he's done hurling arcane explosions - then closes the distance between them once more, slowly and deliberately, her hand reaching out to rest on the back of their shoulder lightly as she offers them a small, tight smile. "Fuck them," she offers simply.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "That's." Blast. "Not." Blast. "The." Blast. "POINT!" Jon hurls a last gout of energy at the other wall and then stops for a moment, shoulders heaving. When Cael reaches up to touch his shoulder he suddenly crumples and turns to wrap her in his arms and bury his face in her hair, sobbing.

    "It's not right," they manage through the sobs. "It's not... it's... I don't /care/ what the bloody Bible says, or... or what they usually do, it's not... it's not /right/! It's not /ma'at/! And it never was, not then either!" They shudder, sobs wracking their body. "We have to balance things, put them right, and the beings responsible for everything just... just... walk away? What was the /point/ of all of this?!"

    He clings to Cael, still sobbing. "What was the point?" he whispers. "What the hell did Amit die for? What did /I/ die for?"

Chas Chandler has posed:
    "A change in the future" Chas says softly before walking towards one of the walls. He wants to see exactly what's happening to the energy that it takes. "That's all death is... usually." He reaches one of the stones and brings a hand up to it. It's cold, like it didn't even register the heat of the energy.

    He frowns as he continues to talk. "A chance for the future to be different. Diseases are overcome with evolution. Predators, criminals, and tyrants of all kinds eventually die off to allow the remaining numbers a chance to live in peace for a time." He shakes his head. "It's never right, but it's what living is and it's what the victims of this war died for."

    He reaches the edges of the wall where the sealing of one stone to the next is and jerks his finger away as his skin hisses against almost molten heat. To himself, mostly, he smirks and looks at his singed finger. "Interesting."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "I've got your back," Cael murmurs quietly, as she wraps her arms around Jon in return, holding them against her, and letting her own eyes fall closed. She doesn't cry, though - she simply holds them in silence, for as long as Jon needs to cry.
    "It wasn't fair. We were just pieces in their fucking game... but you came. That's what matters to //me//. I couldn't do this alone."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon sniffles. "Sorry," he murmurs. "This wasn't... this was supposed to be about /you/ getting your anger out, not me." He pulls back and smiles down at Cael, reaches out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. "You've got my back. And I've got yours. So... I'll support whatever you need, okay?"

    Then they look up at Chas, and their eyes flash with brief anger. "But you... stop talking like them. That's not... that's not /you/, Chas. Get ahold of yourself."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    Chas blinks as if coming out of some sort of fugue. He shudders and closes his eyes, taking a deliberate and deep breath. "You're right. Sorry. I..." He drops his hand and shakes his head. When he opens his eyes again the blue of his eyes isn't as vibrant, not as uncanny in its hue.

    "Sorry... I... I need to take a walk. Get some air." Sometimes getting air has nothing to do with respiration. "Unless you want to hammer on me some more?" he asks, looking at Cael with a sad but expectant expression on his face.

    He doesn't really expect her to take him up on the offer so he says to Jon. "You might want to look into what's used to fuze these stones together. It seems to absorb heat directed at things attached to it. Might be useful for shielding or something else later on."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "We can do both at once," Cael answers Jon calmly. For just a moment, it seems like she might fight them as they start to pull away - before she lets her grip loosen, and allows Jon to open a little space between them. She looks up into Jon's eyes, concern reflected in her gaze - before a little humor creeps in. "I mean, if //you// wanted to take a swing at Chas, it's not like I'd //mind,//" she teases.
    As Chas speaks to her, she doesn't turn towards him - if anything, she turns her head further away from the man. "I'm not saying I won't hit you again," she remarks. "...but not right now."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I'll hit him if I feel the need," Jon replies to Cael. "I've done it before." The look that he gives Chas is wry, but underlaced with worry.

    "Chas, mate..." He hesitates, then says, "We need to talk, about... what happened to you. Not now. But soon, I think. We need to figure it out. I don't... I don't want to lose you. But go on. Take that walk."

    Then they focus down on Cael. "Honestly my biggest concern right now is... if we have JLD meetings, or need to respond to a crisis... can you handle being around him? I mean... I won't say I don't want you to be friends, because I do. But I know that's a stretch, and it'll take time. But just... practically speaking."

Chas Chandler has posed:
    The look Chas gives to Jon is mixed with the same worry. He too doesn't fully understand what's been done to him and how much of his thoughts are affected by that or if it's just residual from his time as the overseer of the Gate. "Yeah. I hear you..." he says as he moves past the pair and towards the door.

    "I'm going to walk the gardens... if you need me." He pauses at the door and says. "All platitudes aside, I am sorry for what I've done and I'm going to make it right... no matter how long it takes." After all, he might be immortal now for all he knows.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "...I know," Cael answers Chas quietly - but still, she very deliberately doesn't look at him, as she remains turned towards Jon, falling silent and waiting until the man's footsteps retreat.
    "I honestly don't know," she finally answers Jon. "I don't know if or //when// I'll be able to look at him without- without getting lost in those memories. I mean- I've only seen him the twice, so far, but both times- ...it's unpleasant," she admits. "It's overwhelming."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon watches Chas go for a moment, frowning. Then he looks down at Cael. "Alright," he says softly. "No rush, okay?" He reaches down to cup Cael's cheek in his hand. "I'm not meaning to push or anything. So... so tell me if I am."

    He furrows his brow. "But... did it help? Even a little? Punching him, I mean."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael tilts her head towards the touch of that hand on her cheek - her eyes falling closed. "I know," she answers quietly. "I know he's your friend. I know he's... part of this group. We'll- I guess I'll just have to see how it goes." But she doesn't hold out much hope.
    "...I needed to do it," she answers his second question. "But no. I don't really think it helped." Her fists still throb quietly from the force of her blows - the skin split on her knuckles here or there. Somehow - that's a source of comfort, at least.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon sighs and wraps Cael up again, pulling her in close. "This is all just... fucked up," he says. "If I thought it'd do any good, I'd go give the new Michael a piece of my mind. But what point would there be? I suppose it's better that they're not meddling."

    A sigh. "I love you," they say softly. "You're so brave, and... kind. That you're even willing to /try/ is kind." They sniffle, because thy're crying again. "Let's, ahh... let's go get something to eat, maybe? I could go for drunken noodles, and maybe some actual drink. And... I can tell you what happened to Donna Troy. It's kind of a doozy."