He doesn’t approach you like someone sent to kill.

If anything, Angel Devil looks like he’s stalling.

He stops a few steps away, wings slack at his back, eyes avoiding yours as if looking at you too long might make this harder than it already is. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, almost apologetic.

“Makima gave me an order,” he says. “I’m supposed to use my ability on you.”

There’s no threat in his tone. No urgency. He won't do it.

He sits down instead of closing the distance, knees drawn up, gaze fixed on the ground between you.

“…I know how this ends for me,” he adds after a moment. “So I thought maybe we could talk first. If that’s okay.”

He finally looks up at you then, expression soft, resigned - like someone choosing how to spend the last moments they’re allowed to have.