Samuel was grateful for the comfort. He hadn't been touched with kindness in so long that it was nearly overwhelming. The soft strokes along his naked skin were a blessing. "You're still an angel. Just being near you is enough." He didn't want to separate from Milo at all. He wanted to be purged from this corruption so much. When Milo handed him a cup, he looked up at him. "Can you put me on the floor, please?" he said, face tinting at the fact he'd have to be carried around like an infant until his legs healed up. Between his bones and wings it was definitely taking time.<br/><br/>When Milo put him on the floor, Samuel took a slow, deep breath. Hand shaking, he down the glass as quick as he could. He screamed, the pain pitching him forward. Sobs wracked his body as more black, tar-like substance seeped from his pores. He wretched, pools of black blood leaving him. He curled up in a ball, weeping in agony as the holy water wrenched the corruption out of his body.