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[harderdaddy]

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[harderdaddy]

[Angel holds good and still as Val tends to him, and it's moments like this he tries to highlight to Cherri, but somehow it never comes off right. Or maybe it's just not enough to make up for the other stuff...

He avoids his gaze a beat long before lifting it back to meet Val's, knowing he's going to be pissed. He doesn't speak, but shifts back just enough that he can shift the one leg out to show his inner thigh. It looks almost like smeared writing, the sort they'd done in some films with lipstick. Only it's not lipstick, and the only knife brandished in Val's time there was the angelic one.]

...i tried to stop 'em-

[papichulo]

[ pissed is an understatement. valentino tilts his head slowly as angel stretches his leg out, and for a moment, it doesn't immediately register that what he's looking at isn't just some cheap lipstick. but a messy dollar store lipstain doesn't explain angel's averted gaze and his overall hesitance to mention it. valentino's brows pinch, and he reaches out with one hand to touch the inside of angel's knee, pushing his leg out just the tiniest bit more for a better look.

he should have done more. valentino should have taken that revolver and emptied that entire chamber into those fucks. the head wound was one thing - still unacceptable, but easily concealed, easily healed - but if valentino had known about this while any of those men were still alive, he might have gone fucking ballistic. just pure, blacked out rage.

val's jaw tenses, teeth clenched hard. one of his hands curls into a tight fist, claws biting into his own palm. he knows exactly how many weapons were in that room - the only people seemingly smart enough to keep theirs hidden until an opportunity presented itself were valentino and angel - and there was only one knife, as far as he could tell. the same one sitting against his lower back now, tucked away in his belt.

when he speaks, it's sharp, but his malevolence doesn't seem to be directed at angel specifically. ]

Get up. [ he takes his hand away from angel's knee - and then offers it to him. ] Come here. Now.

[harderdaddy]

[Blacked out rage is exactly the reason Angel kept it to himself, but realistically there was only ever so long he could do that, and this is going to fuck up filming, and cost fuck only knew how much, and-

Angel snaps from his spiraling thoughts, wincing apprehensively, but accepting the hand up. Even if Val's not mad at him, there aren't a lot of other outlets. But he's back up. Those short words leave little room to argue or disobey.]

...could write it into the next script?

[papichulo]

[ the last thing valentino wants to do is solidify and broadcast his oversight somewhere thousands of people will see it. sure, hair and makeup could probably do something to make it look less... realistic (which is a crazy thought, because the less realistic something seems, the harder it is to 'sell'), and sure, the majority of viewers probably wouldn't even look close enough to care, and no one would have any clue about val's involvement, but - that's not the point. featuring valentino's fuckup is out of the question.

he says nothing about it as he helps angel up, guiding him to sit sideways in his lap with one of his arms supporting angel's back. with another hand, he slides angel's legs open, just enough to get a view of his marked up thigh, and carefully begins to clean these wounds too. save for the tension trapped in the hinge of his jaw, his expression is carefully neutral, though he's anything but calm. ]

[harderdaddy]

[Val not saying anything makes Angel nervous, but he's quiet and still, easily manipulated into place and trying not to make a face as he start cleaning up the cuts. They crudely spell out the word 'whore', though his stained fur makes it less immediately clear.]

...you probably won't even be able to see 'em once they scar up, the fur'll hide 'em.

[He only continues talking to fill that unnerving silence, but breaking it feels just as dangerous, and he quickly shuts his mouth again.]

[papichulo]

[ as the lettering becomes more apparent, valentino's silent rage only intensifies. it's not as if the label isn't true in the most literal sense, but the fact that anyone thought they could carve it into angel's flesh without consequence - and valentino's doubly convinced now that he should have left a fancy little bullet in every one of those men's skulls - is beyond infuriating.

the fact that they'll eventually be covered up and hidden by fur is not the point. valentino will know the scars are there. valentino will always know. it'll always be a permanent reminder of when someone questioned his authority and undermined what's his. of when he put angel's life in danger, in actual, lasting danger, because he overlooked or misjudged. whatever the case may be. ]

In that case, [ he says after another couple seconds of silence, hand wiping and dabbing delicately around the inflamed cuts, eyes focused only on his work. his tone, however, is mildly biting, like it's an effort to keep his temper at bay. ] We should just let anyone do whatever the fuck they want. Is that right?

[ obviously not, and obviously valentino wouldn't allow anything like that, not to this extreme, but 'maybe you won't even see 'em' sounds kind of stupid when framed in this light, doesn't it? ]

[harderdaddy]

[Wincing as it's phrased so...bluntly, Angel shakes his head, not sure how exactly to make things right. Truth is there probably isn't anything he can do, but it's very well ingrained in his mind that if Val's pissed he is a) the likely cause, and b) supposed to know the way to make it better again.]

...no, Val.

[papichulo]

I'll fucking - figure something out. [ he says it more to himself, half under his breath and through the cage of his teeth, sharp and cutting. realistically, his options are limited; he can work it into a script, which he'd rather not fucking do, or they can delay shooting anything until the cuts are scarred and covered over. there's also the option of building a wardrobe around it, which might be the easiest choice out of the three, but he'd have to talk to velvette about it.

once valentino's thoroughly cleaned the dried blood out of the surrounding fur, he allows angel to close his knees if he wants to, but otherwise doesn't say anything else. when the car eventually slows, it becomes evident that the 'home' valentino mentioned at the motel is the tower, and not that shithole of a hotel angel stole away to, but maybe that's not so surprising.

in the silence of the back seat, valentino doesn't immediately move. ] I want you to stay here until this is - dealt with.

[ if angel's in the tower, valentino can guarantee that he's (relatively) safe. that he's always somewhere valentino can find him. that no one else will know of what went down tonight.

his eyes finally shift, one hand lifting to turn angel's head by the chin so he can look at him. ]

Don't fight me on this.

[harderdaddy]

[The most Angel dares protest in the moment is a faint frown. Home has slowly but surely cemented itself as the hotel in his mind, and he longs for his bed and cuddles with Fat Nuggets, and eventually his friends to help distract him. But that face means business, and he gets that he doesn't really have a say.]

Yes Val...I can do that.

[How long did shit take to heal naturally? It's been so long, he can hardly remember. Can't be that much longer than it takes to regenerate, right?]

Just gotta text Husk and let him know to look after Nuggs for me.

[papichulo]

[ with angel in his lap, it's fairly easy to just carry him out of the car. valentino pushes the back door open with one of his free hands and steps out, lifting angel bridal style with him. he could very easily just let angel walk - val knows he's more than capable, rough night aside - but for whatever reason, he decides carrying him in is the best option.

in the main lobby, someone on staff summons an elevator for them and says not a word, which is probably for the best considering valentino's simmering temper and the likelihood for him to snap over nothing. val doesn't say anything until they're in the elevator and the doors have slid closed. ]

... I'll have someone pick him up and bring him here in the morning.

[ another unspoken apology. valentino may have gifted angel that little hellpig however long ago, but he's honestly not that fond of it himself. if having it around will keep angel even moderately happy, though, then val will tolerate it. ]

[harderdaddy]

[He's about to climb off when Val abruptly lifts him like he ways nothing, and Angel starts in surprise. It's been a long while since Val caried him around like this anywhere outside of the bedroom, and Angel knows better than to insist he can walk. It does feel nicer if he's been honest, though he pointedly avoids meeting the eye of anyone on staff. (He does however briefly seek out one of the security cameras to smirk.)

His eyes light up when Val finally speaks.]

Really?? He's a lot better now, he doesn' get underfoot or nothin'.

[Normally Angel wouldn't want his baby back here, but he doesn't want to be separated from him for that long, and Val won't hurt him if Angel's around.]

[papichulo]

[ it's clear by the subtle shift in valentino's expression that he doesn't believe that that little creature isn't just as annoying as it was when angel was still living here, but he pointedly chooses not to argue about it. instead, he shifts angel's weight carefully in his arms and steps out of the elevator when the doors eventually part on the correct floor. ]

Just - [ he pauses to adjust his tone. ] - keep him out of everyone's way. And clean up after him.

[ does valentino regret gifting angel that hellpig? sometimes. most of the time, actually, but angel had been so happy about it at the time that it hadn't mattered much back then. now, valentino tries to look at fat nuggets as a leveraging tool, a way to keep angel under his thumb when he needs a quick way to check his fucking attitude. it doesn't work so much with them both living... elsewhere, but it used to.

valentino carries angel to his penthouse and all the way inside before he finally sets him down near the couches in the main area. immediately, he steps away, hands reaching for the weapons tucked behind his wings as he moves toward the cabinet full of firearms and other miscellaneous weapons by the far wall. ]

Clean yourself up, Angel.

[ he lifts his chin slightly, gesturing toward the bathroom upstairs, and then busies himself with putting his personal guns away. notably, he does not remove either of the angelic weapons from his belt. ]

[harderdaddy]

I will~ [The promise comes quick and a little too cheerful, determined ensure Val has no reason to direct any of his anger towards the hellpig. He'd happily take any and all of it to keep Nuggs safe, though he doesn't like him seeing that stuff either. But it's just for a short while, and Val's being sweet.]

Thanks, Val. [Angel starts making his way, glancing back long enough to see those new toys not joining the others. He frowns faintly, but keeps moving. Hopefully Val still has some of his old clothes around here somewhere.]

[papichulo]

[ notably, most if not all of angel's stuff is still exactly where he left it, both here in the penthouse and in the small space val allowed him to have that can only barely be called a bedroom. angel's clothes are still folded neatly in drawers and taking up space in valentino's obnoxiously large walk-in closet, his shoes are still lined up with val's collection - even his fucking toothbrush is still by the sink in the bathroom. it's like angel never left.

( a couple nights after valentino realized angel really was spending all his fucking free time at that stupid hotel and probably not coming back, he'd lost his shit. ripped angel's clothes off of the hangers, yanked drawers out of the wardrobe and tipped them over the railings to the floor below. he trashed half of the penthouse, screaming about that ungrateful fucking whore while vox scrolled through voxtagram and tried not to tell him i told you so.

it was kitty who put everything back, and valentino was content to act like none of it ever happened. )

valentino secures moneyshot and the smaller handgun in the cabinet in their respective places before closing the doors, and the glance he casts toward the second level is brief as he starts moving back toward the front door. ]

I'm - stepping out for a minute. [ it's not like he owes angel any sort of explanation, but valentino tells him anyway, and he doesn't wait for a response before he's gone, the door clicking and latching shut behind him. ]

[harderdaddy]

O-

[He barely gets out the first sylable before he hears the door close.]

...kay.

[It's fine. Val doesn't owe him an explanation, this is his space...though Angel's gaze flicks to his toothbrush still right there like he'd never left. Well at least Val taking off wasn't that uncommon then either.

Angel cleans up, dressing the wounds as best he can so he doesn't get blood anywhere, and when he goes to explore the closet it's even clearer his presence is still felt around here even if he's not. He searches for something less tight, but there's not a lot of options when it comes to that as there are in his un-curated closet at the hotel. He settles for a soft pink dress that hides his injured thigh, and doesn't irritate it, and wanders back downstairs to lounge on the sofa while he waits for Val. He puts on some show as idle background noise, and tries to make himself comfy.]

[papichulo]

[ he goes to the studio.

without all of the lights and equipment up and running, without the shuffling of crew and interns, it's almost eerily quiet. unsettlingly still in the near-dark, valentino standing motionless like a shadow in the middle of the wide open space. for a few long moments, he just stands there, his breathing the only sound in the silence, eyes emitting a soft red glow. by his sides, long fingers have curled into tight fists, shoulders almost uncomfortably tense.

it's loud, when he throws the first light. valentino moves with a purpose, boots clicking on the tiles as he stalks toward the nearest followspot, throwing it over and sending it crashing to the ground like it's made of paper and not metal and plastic and glass. the bulb shatters on impact, little shards of glass skittering over the tiles like rock skipping on water, but it's not enough.

in the span of only fifteen minutes, valentino trashes the studio. hundreds, if not thousands of dollars done in damages to setwork and equipment. broken rigs, snapped boom sticks, at least one camera cracked and split somewhere at his feet. there's new blood smeared in his hands, palms cut up from broken glass, and when there's nothing left for him to upset, he's still alone.

mildly out of breath and hot under his collar, valentino inhales slowly, closing his eyes and tilting his chin up as he tries to calm himself down.

angel could have fucking died tonight - permanently. valentino could have lost everything over the smallest oversight. when it comes to the angels and their weapons, he's always kept angel safe, but this was different. this was nothing compared to the exorcists, and he still almost got played by a bunch of shitbags he practically handed angel over to.

it cannot happen again. valentino won't let it.

when he returns just twenty minutes after he left, he's obviously a little bit disheveled. valentino opens and closes the door just as quietly as he did when he left, and he only briefly acknowledges angel as he passes behind the couch on his way to the stairs, blood-speckled hands already working to roll his sleeves down to make it easier to get out of his shirt. ]

Have you eaten? [ he sounds casual, like he didn't just trash the fuck out of his studio, tossing the question over his shoulder as he starts up the stairs. ]

[harderdaddy]

[Vox is going to pitch a fit. But Angel's blissfully unaware, at least until Val returns, and he spots that blood. Ah. He wonders how much damage was done? And where? It's not enough blood for him to have torn a sinner apart, and Angel appreciates his restraint, both in that, and in leaving to have his outburst rather than trash the penthouse.]

No?

[He switches the tv off and moves to trail up after Val whether he's wanted or not to address the more pressing matter-]

You're hurt.

[papichulo]

[ vox can - disrespectfully - suck valentino's dick. truthfully, val's probably done worse over less, but in his defense, his work generates a fuckload of money so a couple thousand dollars in damages is basically pocket change. if vox wants to get mad about it, val is just as likely to brush him off as he is to bark back.

vox, however, is the last thing on valentino's mind for once. he only vaguely hears angel's reply, the distance between them and the sound of the television drowning him out somewhat as he reaches the top of the stairs and paces across the loft. he steps into the bathroom, pushing the door open seemingly with no concern over smearing his bloody palm across the decorated wood and leaving it open, distantly aware that angel is following him.

val turns on one of the sinks, thrusting his primary hands under the faucet first, the water running pink as it starts to rinse the minimal blood away. he looks up briefly at the sound of angel's voice, catching his reflection behind him in the mirror as he wrings and twists his hands together. ]

It'll heal. [ his tone is dismissive, but he pauses for a moment to adjust, and he offers a small, tight-lipped smile toward's angel's reflection in the mirror. ] ... You should call down to the kitchens and have them bring something up for you.

[ it's late as fuck by now, but there's always at least one or two people always on staff. ]

[harderdaddy]

[He's not wrong, especially as an Overlord it won't be a problem for long, but Angel frowns a the pink water. He doesn't argue, but he does fetch the first aid kit back out and set it on the counter.]

You're not hungry? [Honestly, Angel's not feeling that hungry after everything, but he can tell if he at least orders something and grazes a bit, it will help ease Valentino's worry at least a little.]

He doesn't leave to make the call just yet though, bringing over a hand towel.]

...Let me get the glass out?

[papichulo]

[ valentino honestly can't remember the last time he ate something today, but he also doesn't really care. he eats like a bird, and the last couple of hours have killed any appetite he might have had anyway. val doesn't bother answering angel's initial question though, and very nearly doesn't acknowledge him at all.

he stares down at his hands in the sink for a second or two, eyes unblinking, lips pressed into a thin line. and then finally, he takes his hands out from under the water and turns off the faucet, shifting his weight on his feet and turning to lean his hip against the edge of the sink, facing angel.

he puts only one of his hands out for now, palm up, and lets the other one drip on the marble floors. the remaining two are less damaged, but still a little spattered, his secondary arms crossed loosely over his lower torso. ]

[harderdaddy]

[Watching him closely, Angel gives a soft hum, concerned but doing his best to be a source of calm. He catches the hand lightly in the towel, lower hands working open the kit and passing himself a pair of tweezers. He starts picking out the shards as gently as he can, thumb stroking absently over the unmarred skin as he holds the hand still.

It's not the first time he's played nurse after one of Val's tantrums, but it's been a while, and this anger came from what feels like a very different place.]

[papichulo]

[ gentle or not, glass being plucked from flesh still stings something fierce, but valentino bears it easily. as far as injuries go, it's nothing, and the level of pain is so far from the worst he's ever dealt with that it's almost laughable. still, his eyes squint a little as a particularly jagged splinter of glass is tugged free, fingers curling reflexively before they relax again.

in hindsight, maybe he shouldn't have destroyed the studio, but he'd had to unleash his simmering anger somehow, and tearing someone limb from limb would have been far messier, in his opinion. broken glass and cracked plastic is easy to sweep up, but in large amounts, blood stains pretty easily. with shoots already canceled for the following day, raging in the studio might actually have been his best option. and, at least, he very pointedly didn't take his upset out on angel for once.

speaking of -

val lifts his gaze from where his and angel's hands are joined - he doesn't often forget how soft angel's hands are, but it's nice to be reminded even in heavier circumstances - and looks at his face instead. after a beat, he lifts his uncaptured primary hand and starts to reach for angel's head, but a quick glimpse of the blood smeared across his palm and the subtle glint of light catching on the splinters makes him pause instead of touching him.

angel's clean. there's no sense in tainting him over again tonight. val's fingers curl slightly, hand still hovering, and he tilts his head. when he speaks, his voice is a low murmur, something the cameras likely wouldn't even pick up very clearly, if they were on. ]

... How's your head?

[ not an incriminating question or anything requiring any sort of privacy - it's likely the remaining vees were at least vaguely briefed on angel's situation before valentino left to help him - but the intimacy is saved for angel anyway. ]

[harderdaddy]

[There's a sympathetic wince from Angel, his brow furrowed softly as he works. He doesn't notice Val's gaze shift at first, not until he speaks and those eyes lift in question.]

Eh, had worse...It's still a bit tender.

[He tacks on a bit of real vulnerability after a short pause. They both know he's had worse. He'll be fine. But of course it still hurts.

He dampens a corner of the towel to wipe off Val's palm and motions for the next one.]

I'll be more careful out there.

[papichulo]

[ of course angel's had worse, likely at the hands of valentino, but - there's a difference there. valentino can rationalize every mark and every bruise he leaves on angel, but when someone else puts their hands on him in ways they didn't exclusively pay for, in ways valentino doesn't approve of? it's unacceptable. it's infuriating. getting a little rough in the throes of pleasure is understandable to a fault, and maybe valentino could have waved the whole thing off, but this went far beyond a little manhandling.

angel's marked now in a way that won't fade by morning. the head wound is one thing, but the lettering carved into the inside of his thigh is permanent, and though his fur will likely cover the scarring with time, valentino is always going to know what's there. they both will.

when angel gestures for his other hand, valentino holds it out for him, uncurling his fingers and exposing his palm. he looks down at the little shards of glass embedded in his flesh, blood nothing but a sheen against his dark hands. he seems unfazed. ]

... No more new clients. [ sure, angel should be more careful. he should always be careful, as one of valentino's greatest assets, but some fault lies in val's hands tonight as well, even if he's too prideful to admit as much out loud. the admission is still there, though, hidden in this vague declaration.

angel will still have clients - regulars who have proven to pay well and not cause any fucking problems - but as of right now, the list is closed to interested parties until valentino decides otherwise. ]

[harderdaddy]

[There's a half beat before Angel nods, a flash of guilt in his mind as he wonders if that applies to the occasional off the books work he's been doing to pad his pockets. It's not like Travis is going to fucking hurt him, but he isn't always picky when he needs a fix.]

Gonna drive the prices up.

[He teases lightly. Supply and demand. Make Angel even harder to get and demons'll start offering more. He wonders if he'll see any of that increase.

Picking the glass free, Angel wipes the second hand down too.]

How are the others?