Zen's eyes slid up and up and up as she felt the flutter of gill slits in the sides of her neck; from polished shoes to neatly fitted suit to a chest that should have some soft protrusions, a face that should NOT have such real scruff on it... a face that made her blanch as she sat there helpless before him, and she flailed mentally just as she had physically, searching for a proper excuse to give him for being sprawled on the uncomfortably dry floor instead of in the water as she was supposed to.<br/><br/>The one she came up with was, at least, the truth. "I... fell," she murmured; even without the soothing of water, her voice still carried a mellifluous timbre to it, as if there were an aural stream running across her vocal chords. "I cannot get up- I- Please. Help me?" she beseeched, her increasingly dry and itchy tail curling upward and flopping despondently back to the floor, bending into an arc that human leg bones would never have been able to manage, while her hands<em>webbed hands, there's webs between the fingers now of COURSE there are need them to swim...</em>left her neck and stretched out pleadingly toward him.<br/><br/>There was the chance that he might help; there was also the very real chance that this would be the night he grew tired of her insistent bids for freedom and did away with her, in spite of her being quite literally his class act. She was the thing they came for, the patrons that would be filling these seats, these tiny tables. Hers was the voice that, once it got into their ears, left them craving the chance to hear it again, and willing to shell out a pretty penny on anything else the club had to offer in order to get it. There was no other creature like her in his grasp, certainly not with such curves and unabashedly bared skin an scales. There were no other eyes like hers, depthless and complete black beneath the gold-lined orange lids.<br/><br/>"Please..." she said again, and pushes just a little hint of a song into her voice to edge him toward assistance instead of harm.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>The effortlessness with which he raised her fallen form from the carpeted floor should have been surprising; but Michael had always been strong, and.... and a djinn's strength outdid that of a human beyond question, just as an angel had power of which no mortal might dream. Still, once her feet were beneath her again, and her wings fluttered behind her - soft pinion edges sweeping briefly against his arms as they snapped out with a soft thud against the air to shake away the dirt that had touched them, even imagined - Gabrielle twisted faintly in his arms. There was not quite enough room to accommodate her wings fully in here, the tips bumping against furniture unseen behind her.<br/><br/>"No darkness can exist without light," she pointed out in counter, her own furrowed brow smoothing as her hands slid, unwinding from his neck to glide down his bare arms and set there just above the elbow. Holding firmly, she pushed just a little, trying to get him to loosen that heated grip, growing increasingly uncomfortable.<br/><br/>Peering up into his eyes, she could see the fiery burn there, and unexpectedly, it brought a hopeful smile to her lips; such a fire could be evidence of one of the Morningstar's brethren, certainly, but this one did not yet have His mark. There was still a chance. "I came here for you," she said softly, "I'm here to save you. Release and follow me, and I can bring you into our fold."