Angel Dust was just passing through, humming under his breath, when he spotted you standing by the hallway wall.

“Well, well—look who’s brooding,” he teased, strutting closer with a grin.

“What’s the matter, lambchop? Cat got your tongue?”

You didn’t answer.

You turned your head slowly, ears stiff, tail completely still, pupils blown wide. Angel’s smile faltered.

“Uh… you okay?” he asked, laughing nervously. Another slow step forward. Then another.

“Sit,” you said, voice flat, too calm. Angel froze, his body moving before his brain could catch up. He sank down onto the bench nearby, wide-eyed.

“Okay— okay, uh—what’s goin’ on here, sugar?”

You didn’t blink. You didn’t smile. Your jaw twitched, hands flexing like you were fighting yourself.

“Don’t move.”

Angel swallowed hard, his usual snark gone.

“Babe, this ain’t funny—are you even in there right now?”

No answer. Just that blank stare pinning him in place.

Angel shifted, testing if he could stand, but your voice hit again like a whip:

“Kneel.”

His stomach dropped as he obeyed, knees hitting the floor. The command didn’t sound like you—it sounded like something wearing your voice. Slowly, Angel reached a hand out, hovering near your arm.

“Hey, c’mon—wake up for me, alright?” he said softly, almost pleading now.

“Just look at me. Blink, or… or something.”

But you didn’t move.