Malek Ackerman

You're my water. You're my wine.

He was a coward. Chizue's very suggestion that they go look if the human was alive and yet, Malek simply couldn't return to that alleyway. The man wasn't entirely sure he could control himself, his hold on the demon weak at best. Yet, he can't keep the shame from his bloodied features as she questions him, Malek looking away from her, not able to hold that chocolate gaze of her's. "I can't. That woman will be there still," he practically curses Petra's name without actually saying it, that anger more directed at himself rather than Chizue in that moment. However, that anger hardly lasts long, that very emotion practically taking everything out of him as his shoulders slump. "I can't, Chizue. I- I don't do well with blood, I lose control and I'm terrified I'm going to revert back into that demon if I go back into that alley," he admits, his eyes wide, almost fearful.

God, he really was a coward. The man was amazed that the woman didn't throw him out. She was being far to kind to him, offering him the use of her shower. The man entirely exhausted and demure as he trails after her and it isn't long before he's stripping in front of her, Malek hardly caring in that moment. Still, he pauses in front of the mirror, horrified by how much blood covered him, the red beginning to dry and cake to his skin. He can't hardly bare to look at himself any longer before he steps into the shower, the man barely noting the heat that soaks into his skin. Bracing an arm against the wall, he leans forehead and rests his head on his arm, his grey eyes watching the swirling bloodied water pour off him. Malek doesn't notice Chizue leave the bathroom, nor does he realize she takes his clothes with her.

He stands there for awhile, not moving an inch as he washes the blood from his body, only does he move when he needs to attend to that caked beard. Pushing off the wall, he tips his head back so the water sprays his face, eyes closed as he reaches up with shaky fingers to scrub that thick hair. When he's satisfied it's gone, he reaches forward and turns off the water, Malek standing there a moment longer before reaching for a towel and wrapping it around his waist. He hardly felt better, the man still entirely consumed by guilt and shame as he steps out of the shower, his hair dripping with the excess liquid down his body. His gaze is immediately drawn to the bloodied stains on the ground from his clothes, Malek's eyes widening at the red. It takes him a moment to look away, only to be met with hollowed eyes in the mirror.

And as he stares at his reflection he can't stop remembering the bloodied features from moments before. God, he could still smell the metallic tang of blood on him; on his beard, his hair. And perhaps it was panic that made him do it as he begins to rifle through the bathroom drawers frantically, the man hardly being quiet as he finds what he's looking for; a pair of scissors. Malek doesn't take a moment to think about what he's doing, instead he reaches up and begins to cut off chunks of his hair... his beard, leaving only a jagged mess in his path. Malek doesn't hear Chizue enter the bathroom again, he only turns to look at her as he catches movement in his peripherals. And perhaps his gaze was slightly widened, a panic taking hold of him as he stares at her for a moment, his hand placing the scissors on the counter, "I could still smell the blood," he murmurs, explaining the meaning of his absurd, uneven hair cut and the pile of hair pooling about his feet.

Grimacing, he looks down, "I'm sorry, I can clean this up," he offers, suddenly worried what Chizue might think of him. Perhaps if she hated him it would be deserving, his punishment for what he did to that human in the alley. "I should go, I'm sure you hardly want me here," he mumbles again, his gaze trained not on the petite woman in front of him, but on the floor. He couldn't bare to look at her, to see the judgement in her eyes. Yet, even as he suggests he leaves he doesn't move, the man feeling like he was glued to the spot.

You're my whiskey. From time to time.