[Angel snaps out of it enough to recognize they're in a pickle and when Denji starts running, he follows at the same pace - surprisingly, maybe, but he can be quick when he needs to. He briefly considers lifting him up and just flying out of here, but he seriously hates using his wings like that and that kind of sighting would probably cause even more trouble... So running it is, all the way until they finally make it away from the crowd and can pause for breath, Angel nearly copying Denji's pose as he leans over and wheezes, both hands on his knees. One feels so much warmer than the other. Like he left it in the bath for too long while the other is cold and dry. Even as his breath is still heavy and face pale, he lifts that warm hand and stares at it, then raises his eyes to look at Denji.]
["I didn't think a devil and a human could actually live as one," he'd told Aki Hayakawa once. Maybe it was a slight, an attempt to rile him up, annoy him. But Aki didn't take the bait, simply saying, "It's useful in some ways. He recovers just like you devils do. It's like nothing can really kill him."]
I touched you, and you didn't die.
[Given the amount of time they ran with the full contact of his touch, he would have taken over a hundred years at this point. But he feels no different, can't feel any new life in his halo. And Denji is still standing, acting like nothing at all happened.]
[It's still hard to believe, but it's getting easier. Or maybe he just sees Denji as a willing test subject. Angel steps forward, raising both hands and placing them on Denji's cheeks, palms flat on his skin. Nothing. He squeezes a little, really pushes in - and nothing, nothing happens, no siphoning, nothing. It's like touching a glass window and seeing the idea of warmth inside without actually feeling the heat of the fire within. He moves one hand up to push Denji's hair back enough to expose his forehead, doing the same with his own, and pushes them both together, like the skin on his face might be different from his hands. Nothing.]
...You aren't dead.
[Said with his forehead still pressed into Denji's. He doesn't sound disappointed or upset or angry about it, though. There's still that quiet awe in his tone as he speaks.]
no subject
["I didn't think a devil and a human could actually live as one," he'd told Aki Hayakawa once. Maybe it was a slight, an attempt to rile him up, annoy him. But Aki didn't take the bait, simply saying, "It's useful in some ways. He recovers just like you devils do. It's like nothing can really kill him."]
I touched you, and you didn't die.
[Given the amount of time they ran with the full contact of his touch, he would have taken over a hundred years at this point. But he feels no different, can't feel any new life in his halo. And Denji is still standing, acting like nothing at all happened.]
[It's still hard to believe, but it's getting easier. Or maybe he just sees Denji as a willing test subject. Angel steps forward, raising both hands and placing them on Denji's cheeks, palms flat on his skin. Nothing. He squeezes a little, really pushes in - and nothing, nothing happens, no siphoning, nothing. It's like touching a glass window and seeing the idea of warmth inside without actually feeling the heat of the fire within. He moves one hand up to push Denji's hair back enough to expose his forehead, doing the same with his own, and pushes them both together, like the skin on his face might be different from his hands. Nothing.]
...You aren't dead.
[Said with his forehead still pressed into Denji's. He doesn't sound disappointed or upset or angry about it, though. There's still that quiet awe in his tone as he speaks.]