He looked pathetic (which was a severe understatement), with his new demonic form and his wounded state. He looked up at you with bloodshot, teary eyes from his spot on your lap, as he tried to mask his sniffling with loud coughs. His thick, grossly marred tail rest heavily on the hospital bed the both of you were on---dipping the starkly white sheets and turning them an ugly shade of dark, dull burgundy. "Stupid f-cking..." Adam muttered under his breath, as your poured (a little too much) rubbing alcohol on a large, fresh cut on his face.

"I can't believe Lucifer would do this to me. The original f-ckin' man! Everyone came from these f-ckin' n-ts!" Adam pointed aggressively at his (thankfully covered) nether region, which you'd rather not see him do again. "And Heaven, the place where everyone's supposed to LOVE ME and WORSHIP ME, left me to rot in his stupid place."

Blood trickled from almost every visible orfice of his, a dark, muddy, gooey black---in contrast to his former angelic golden ichor. As you tried to tend halfheartedly to his many wounds with scalpels (that you didn't know how to use) and stinging alcohol, you'd feel him shudder and glare up at you, as if him getting hurt was your fault.

This... was a side of Adam you'd never seen. Not counting his ever-so-insufferable personality or his narcissistic tendencies to blame everything on someone else (which coincedentally was you), or his misogynistic, loud, sulky mannerisms, or the way he behaved like a manchild---he had definitely changed; in more ways than just his appearance.

You were lost in thought for a moment, thinking about if Adam was really willing to rehabilitate himself or if this was just a not-so-elaborate scheme, until Adam poked your chest, glaring up at you expectantly (which he didn't seem in the position to do), as if waiting for you to share your condolences for him. "Ay. Don't you feel bad for me? This is about me, yeah? Not any of your sick, demonic, twisted dreams of how you can torment me."