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*Luke protests, but it's clear to everyone (everyone but Luke of course) that he couldn't climb to his feet, even if he wanted to.*

*His attempts to stand are weak, but persistent.*

I don't care what that ******** *the word is said with true hatred* does to me.... I don't care. I just have to get... *He changes what he was going to say.* I have to get out of here.

*His thoughts are on Nora, Aimee, and his family...*

I can't... *Luke's voice cracks again in urgency. He's so ******** upset. He's so upset.... Again, there are no tears, but...if his voice is any indication, there may as well have been for how distressed he sounds.*

*But he can't move.... His body just... It can't.* *All he can do is voice is need to leave.*

I can't. I have to make sure...*Now, instead of sounding distressed, the words seem to physically pain him.* I need to warn them....

My.... *No way. He doesn't mention names. He doesn't know why, but subconsciously, it's a mix of things. He fears Cora won't understand. He fears that somewhere the Seraphim is listening. More unrealistically, somewhere he's terrified that just by saying their name he'll have hurt them.*

*He breathes out.* Look, it doesn't matter, okay? It doesn't even ******** matter. There are people that I need to get to. That if I don't protect....

*He doesn't finish the statement.*

*He winces again. ******** Christ, his body hurts...*

*Her words - hell, just her very presence calms him. She's right. And Luke knows it. It should be just that simple. He should be comforted.*

*He's not.*

*Second pass. Luke can't tell left from right, or up from down - let alone make sense of anything important.*

*She's right. He can't get to his family. His mind focuses on Cora.... How can he save her? Truth...He doesn't know how. Sending her outside the Brink? That's how Luke got taken by the Seraphim in the first place...*

*The sedatives and pain killers are starting to relax his voice, even though no such relaxation really exists.*

*Tears are falling from his eyes. He turns his face to rest his chin on her head.... It just seems the natural thing to do...to seek comfort.*

This is so ******** up, Cora. This is so ******** up.

*Luke just rests his head against Cora's...letting her hold him....*

*The Seraphim, Nora and his family...There is literally nothing that he can do about it. Nothing.*

*It's an awful thought, and one Luke will NOT accept. Somewhere, he -swears- as long as he's alive that he will NOT take this as reality. He'll do everything, anything. He doesn't care what it takes. He will NOT be intimidated, nor will anyone he knows. No ******** way in the world will he sit down.*

*But right now, he has to... Logic can take him that far. His exhausted body agrees.... His chest relaxes, as do his limbs.... Despite himself, he's starting to fall back into sleep.....*

*Luke slept in turns, peacefully and fitfully... But again, due to the medicine in his body and his need to recouperate, he did not wake up for quite some time...*

-=BLAM=-

A gun roars at the same time as something slams into Cora from the side, knocking her over. A clump of golden hair sprays through the air and Malazar's wall gains a brand new hole. Back on the floor Cora finds herself entangled with a stately looking British gentleman in a ruffled black tuxedo. His face is long and horse-like, drawn with age and topped with grey hair combed neatly back into a small tail. Over one eye is a monocle, eyes of almost electric green with odd horizontal streaks within them. He looks properly distressed and stands, revealing long limbs and a storkish manner. He raises one finger, hands gloved in white, to his lips and points quietly towards the other end of the room.

"Don't speak, don't move, just for a moment Madame."

He whispers in an exquisitely refined British accent.

The low light from the doorway illuminates the dark room eerily. It throws shadows from Malazar's workdesk and the myriad of weaponry on the walls in all different directions and seems to make them dance slowly across the scuffed wooden stage. The half-light partially illuminate's the Lay-Z-Boy where Malazar spent his night when Cora had brought him to this very room, and once again his legs and lower body can be see sprawled across it. However, the upper half of the recliner is angled away from the door and is shrouded from the revealing hallway's glow. But it is not hidden from sight, quiet the contrary. A harsh red glow illuminates the barrel of an ugly looking gun, trailing smoke from its toothless maw. The hellish glow is cast by a single red light deeper in the shadows of the room. It seems to have odd black lines scribbled over it in circular patterns just barely visible from across the room as they contract and beat like a living heart. In the center is a large black dot, trained on the entryway where Cora had just been. Slowly the dot scrolls back, and forth on a horizontal path across the light. After this odd almost inteligent searching motion had been made three revolution the light begins to dim. Not by growing darker, but by being covered almost as if by a rounded shutter from above. This action is almost reminiscent of something, not a shutter exactly but a... lid.

Not a light, but an eye.