Ishmael supposed he could see where Galina was coming from. A year or a century of being locked up would make one prepared for threats, almost the point of paranoid.
He could also see Azazel’s point of view there - he trusted that she wouldn’t actually attack him. That said, out of the corner of his eye he could see her stiffened posture and Galina’s continued failure to quite back down either, and so Ishmael did not fancy leaving them to their own devices just yet.
“Relax, Azazel’s not going to hurt me,” he assured Galina with an easy confidence, in spite of the fact he and Azazel had just been sniping viciously at each other all evening. (It was messy, but they had always been a little like that; Ishmael didn’t take it personally. They had too tangled a history to mean nothing to each other, even if they both pretended otherwise.) “I was the one who turned her, so...” she wouldn’t dare, he had meant to finish, only as he returned his gaze to Azazel, he caught something odd in her look, a dawning expression in her eyes. He knew her well, he could always read her without trouble.
“What?” He demanded, turning on her with urgency, because he couldn’t read this and he needed to know what had just flashed through her mind. Or -
...the one who turned... Maybe that was it. Maybe he knew.
No, it couldn’t be.
He could also see Azazel’s point of view there - he trusted that she wouldn’t actually attack him. That said, out of the corner of his eye he could see her stiffened posture and Galina’s continued failure to quite back down either, and so Ishmael did not fancy leaving them to their own devices just yet.
“Relax, Azazel’s not going to hurt me,” he assured Galina with an easy confidence, in spite of the fact he and Azazel had just been sniping viciously at each other all evening. (It was messy, but they had always been a little like that; Ishmael didn’t take it personally. They had too tangled a history to mean nothing to each other, even if they both pretended otherwise.) “I was the one who turned her, so...” she wouldn’t dare, he had meant to finish, only as he returned his gaze to Azazel, he caught something odd in her look, a dawning expression in her eyes. He knew her well, he could always read her without trouble.
“What?” He demanded, turning on her with urgency, because he couldn’t read this and he needed to know what had just flashed through her mind. Or -
...the one who turned... Maybe that was it. Maybe he knew.
No, it couldn’t be.
