Thatcher simply gave a nod, adjusting his grip on his scythe before stepping around the angel. He took a few steps before stopping, looking around with a frown on his lips. But, a moment later, his trench coat seemed to form into black feathers before his body seemed to break apart. After a moment, he was shifted into multiple crows, and the murder of crows flew into the air.
Halo nods in reply, watching as the other steps around him and turns into a murder of crows. He watches as the other leaves and gives a small sigh. He wraps his wings around himself to keep warm as he gazes around, suddenly feeling lonely.
After a few minutes of searching around, the murder of crows landed outside of what looks like a camp. The crows shirt back to Thatcher, and he brushes a few stray feathers from his coat. With his scythe in hand, he locates the man who’s name was written on the paper. As he approach the small group of men, one shouted at him to stop. He turned his head, glaring before continuing forward. There was the sound of a gunshot, and he felt searing pain in his side. He gave a hiss of pain, knowing that crimson blood would be pouring from the wound. He approached the man, and in one quick movement, the man’s torso was split open. The man gave a blood curdling scream, but he didn’t stick around much longer. He was shifted back, flying away. But, there was another gunshot, and a crow was hit. It gave a loud squak, now flying a bit strange. He landed back near the angel and shifted, now also having a wound on his bicep.
Angel was resting peacefully, curled up in his wings, his clear eyes hidden from the world. He gasps sharply when the other lands, his eyes shooting wide open as he awkwardly tries to stand. "You're back!" he says as if its the least obvious thing in the world. He clears his throat, coughing a little as he does so. He gets a clear look at Thatcher and his heart stops, "You're bleeding." He says softly, walking towards Thatcher, his eyes are filled with concern.
Thatcher shrugged off his trench coat, just to he could look at the bullet holes better. There was the one in his side, that seemed to be bleeding heavily and it soaked through his black button up. The one on his right upper bicep wasn’t bleeding as much, but it still stung terribly. “I am, but I will be fine,” he said.
Halo bites his lip a little, "At least let me help…" He mutters softly, gulping at the sight of the blood. Halo looks at the other, silently asking permission to help the taller male. His eyes were filled with nothing but concern as he waits.
Thatcher let out a shallow breath, thinking for a moment before nodding his head. He would let the angel help, even if he didn’t think his wounds were that serious. At least he wasn’t shot in the face or something terrible along those lines. “Do you need me to take my shirt off to see better?” He asked.
"Yes," he says softly, tearing a piece of his shirt away. "I need to clean it and get the bullet out." he says softly. Halo hated seeing people hurt. "H-here." He says softly.
Thatcher unbuttoned his shirt before shrugging it off ad setting it aside with his trench coat. Many other scars were visible now, some looking old and some new. He took the cloth from the angel, using it to wipe away the blood around the wound on his side.
Halo takes a breath and carefully begins to remove the bullet. It hadn't gone through, which was lucky. After the bullet is removed he cleans it with another strip of cloth and places pressure against it. "I'm sorry if this hurts." he says quietly.
Thatcher grimaced faintly when the angel took out the bullet, but he shook his head in response. “It doesn’t hurt bad, I’ve hard worse,” He answered, brushing strands of hair out of his eyes. It was true, he has had worse. He remembered during the Salem Witch Trials, he had been accused of witchcraft, for obvious reasons. The officials there had tried to down him. It hurt, not being able to breathe, but he knew that the pain would kept going, that he wouldn’t black out and die.
He looks up and nods, "I'm sorry they shot you." he mutters softly. "B-but the bleeding has slowed down a little. So, you should be okay." Halo smiles a little at that. He looks at his ripped shirt and shrugs, "Small price to pay." He mutters softly, checking over his other bullet wound. "This one looks fine." he mutters softly, "Just needs to be cleaned." Halo looks at the taller man, "Thank you…" he whispers.
Thatcher shook his head again, looking down at the wound, then at the scars on his bare chest. “There is no need to say ‘thank you’. I am bound to you because of that spell, it’s my job to kill and heal who you please,” he said, glancing around as he could have sworn he heard a loud flurrying of barks in the distance. Maybe Nike found those other men.
Halo shrugs, "It only feels natural to thank you." he says softly, "After all, you saved my life… if I hadn't summoned you… I believe I might as well be dead right now." he mutters. Halo looks up, "What exactly is the price for summoning you?" he asks quietly. His head perks up when he hears a dog barking.
“There is no price. The only price would be the guilt of knowing that you did the same thing as hiring a contract killer,” Thatcher said, clicking his tongue to himself afterwards. The other person didn’t have a price to pay, no. The Reaper would be the one to suffer, as they became something like a slave to the other person. But the angel was innocent, he didn’t know what he had just done.
Halo nods, "Oh, okay." he says softly, his eyes going to the ground, he knew what he did. He had hired a killer. And he had just had someone killed. But… the person he killed… it was for a good reason. He was hunting beings like the fallen angel himself. He sighs softly and looks back up. "I-Is there anything you need? Food? Water? Anything?" He asks. He needed to get his mind away from those thoughts.
“A bottle of water would be nice,” Thatcher answered, picking up his black button up and putting it back on. He looked down at himself again, having two bullet holes that were ripped into his shirt. He as a frown at that, shrugging his trench coat on to hide it.
Halo nods slowly, "Okay. My home isn't far from here. I-I can get you some." He smiles softly before beckoning the other to follow him. "It's maybe a half hour walk, but we can just fly to make it faster." he says, smiling a little.
“Your wing is injured,” Thatcher pointed out with a frown. “It has to be difficult to fly like that.” Another howl could be heard, it being closer this time. He looked around him, waiting to see if his hound would emerge in a moment.
He looks at his wings. "I suppose you're right." He mutters softly, folding it again. He starts when he hears the howl. "What was that?"
As if it was on cue, a giant hound with three heads the resembled a pit bull came bounding over. It snarled at the angel, all of its teeth bared. Thatcher whistled, and the hound looked over. “Nike, no,” he told the hound. It padded over to him, and when it was standing up straight, it’s heads reached up to Thatcher’s shoulder. He brought a hand up, stroking one of the heads while it’s tail wagged. “My hound,” he told the angel in response to his previous question.
Halo stumbles back in fear when the dog… Could he even call it a dog? Cam bounding into view. He whimpers softly when the dog growls at him. It was huge! He nods nervously. His poor dog Glitch would have a panic attack when they got home.
“Her name is Nike, like the goddess. She usually won’t attack unless I say so. Sometimes. It depends on how hungry she is,” Thatcher added, scratching behind the ears of the same head as the middle one nudged him, like it wanted attention. The one on the right continued to watch the angel closely, like a guard dog would. “Are we going to go now?” He asked.
Halo gulps softly, his eyes on the three headed dog. He looks up and nods slowly. "Yeah. Follow me." He says softly. He wills his wings to fade into his back. It would make it easy to walk. He sighs softly and glances at the ground.
Thatcher clicks his tongue for Nike to follow him as he walks behind the angel. He glanced the angel over, frowning in thought. “Do you have a name?” He eventually asked after a tense moment of silence.