Jeannie
◆ "Yeah, I know. Cold compress tonight, warm tomorrow... I've been beat worse before, Uri." Margo spoke, not quite a plea for them to take a step back but more letting them know that, yes, she knew some first aid too. "Honestly. I'll be fine. But... Thanks for the concern."

□ Quietly speaking, she frowned at the sensation of bandages tugging her shoulder's skin. Tight, but not tight enough to cut off circulation, exactly as it should have been, but at the same time her shoulder didn't exactly appreciate the feeling of the somewhat rough gauze against it, much to her confusion. Why did a simple piece of fabric cause her skin to crawl? It felt like nails on chalkboard, quite frankly, and as Uri leveled their own opinions on the whole Angel matter she silently squirmed in her own skin, uncertain of why she felt the way she did.

▪︎ What the hell was up in her head...?

◆ "They're not going to, man." Margo retorted. "It's the administration, a bunch of boring ass adults. They don't wanna stick their neck into a mess that could sever it from the rest of their body, but us...? We're young, locked up, and ain't got shit else do." She laughed. "Of course this is gonna fall on our shoulders. They're murderous and indiscriminate with their violence, but... We're invincible at this point, ain't we? Just... If they put a halo on me, put me the fuck to sleep until someone figures out how to get it off. I'd rather be put in a coma than let some stupid fucking halo decide my fate for me."
Diane
At Margo's not-too-subtle prod, Uriel takes a step back from their bustling and sits next to her on the couch... Well, not before taking the tea off the kettle, pouring them both a drink from an old yet delicate pair of teacups given to Uri by their mother, and setting the cold compress in her hands. 

Oh well. They managed to get there, in the end. 

"You told me a couple nights ago that you wanted to be a detective when you're older. Are you... Enjoying this?" Uriel blew on the surface of their too-hot tea, voice quiet so as to not disturb the little ripples that came from their concentrated breath.

They let the question hang in the air for a bit— perhaps to give Margo room for thought, but perhaps simply because they were slow. 

"I... You can be assured that I'll subdue you until we find a way to revert any mind control. And we will, I'm positive. Nothing of that sort will happen. But, if in this insane world it somehow does, I'll make sure to be at your side." They continued. 

Uriel didn't believe themselves— or anyone— to have the ability to convince Margo what she could or could not do. Even if it was for the best to trust the administration, they had no doubt in their mind Margo would continue her activities and pursue the angels, only alone under the cloak of night. It was a part of human nature, they supposed— to tenaciously pursue a goal until it was either completed, or one was dead. They only hoped to be there when Icarus' wings finally melted. 

.

"I'm not exactly sure what measures would need to be taken if I were to be..." The word seemed almost disgusting in their mouth, and they stiffened a gag from their throat. "Mentally taken by them. It's the reason I didn't meet the angels in person, despite knowing where they lived. It's... Bad if I'm awake, and it's bad if I'm unconscious." 

They paused for a bit, wrapping their hands around the tea for warmth. "I... I honestly don't know if my existence while under someone else's influence can be justified to continue. If those events do come into fruition, then I'll trust you and the rest of the Cradle residents to make that judgement call with everyone's safety in mind."

A sip. Uriel's eyes went glossy, and as they stared into the night sky and wondered what would happen in the weeks to come, the stars reflected against their dark irises.
Jeannie
◇ The cold press fell into Margo's hands, and she quickly yet gently set it atop her busted shoulder.

■ "I mean, I've... Been thinking of it a long time. Childhood dreams fuelled by Columbo and Murdoch Mysteries on repeat on the family television, still sticking to them, all that shit." Margo spoke, a certain nostalgia lacing her voice. It was the truth of the matter: of the few cable channels her father was willing to pay for as an old-fashioned Scottish man, one of them primarily centered around detective shows, and it was this channel Margo spent a lot of her watching as a child. "But am I enjoying it? Fuck yeah I am. It feels like I'm being whipped up into something bigger than... Y'know, you and me. This shit reaches way beyond the Cradle; for all we know these Angels could only be one unit. There could be hundreds, *Thousands,* Scattered across the world, living in dumps and enacting divine intervention as their Bible defines it. This is so much bigger than us, and it terrifies me but it also excites the hell out of me."

◆ "Anyways..." She grabbed the tea cup and took a ginger sip. "I guess we'll see what happens. Hopefully my halo looks cool if they slam one on my noggin."

□ With that Margo let the silence re-emerge, the porcelain cup's hot surface pressed into her bandaged palms, her hands like those of a mummy yet eternally warm and somewhat scaly. Her thoughts veered towards the what-ifs of mind control, the unknowable answers to all her questions dangling just out of reach, a knock and about twenty seven charisma checks away from a nugget of the truth. What if mind control was simply a stronger will existing within the brain, overpowering the weaker one and imposing the halo's will? If that were the case, she reasoned, she'd be fine. She hoped, at least; after all, her head was impressively firm, and she didn't know how to bow down to *Anyone.*

▪︎ Then, Uri began to talk again, and she rejoined the land of the living.

◆ "Oh, so shoot you in the skull and ask questions later, huh? Gotcha." Disbelief riddled her voice with holes, from which the truth leaked. "Uri, we're not gonna fuckin' kill you if you get hit with a halo. They'll have already killed you, and all that'll exist is your body and your blood – I personally think magic is in the blood, maybe an anomalous protein." What a weird interjection. "But anyways, nah, man, fuck that. No death for any of us; we're fuckin' *Invincible,* We're gonna be fine. Maybe we'll need therapy and spend most of our twenties suffering with addiction issues or something, but man..."

• "We're gonna be fine. I hope."