Tristan hid a smirk, instead letting out a calculated whimper. "P-please," he stammered, "can we--not here--your room, please--" His face was pale, as if he were in shock. He easily let the angel lead him away, keeping his arm wrapped tight in his shirt.<br/><br/>Once they were in Ezekiel's bedroom, and the angel sufficiently distracted, pilfering the kit for bandages, Tristan made his move. He jerked the shirt off and slashed the knife through the air, aiming straight Ezekiel's stomach.