The sun was creeping into the sky, but that didn't seem to matter to Valerian or Amiel. Half-asleep, Amiel sat on the roof of the vacant home and surveyed the streets. What he could see of them, anyway. Valerian was curled up in his lap, asleep, snuffling slightly. He had been well-fed, recently... a lot of spare parts around. Not that Amiel was receiving a particular amount of corpses, it was more that he was also contributing his own. He understood the intricacies of death, and although taking life away was something new, it didn't bother him. A blessing, in that he felt nothing in its regular intensity. What he felt the first time he took a life could be considered minor discomfort. Not even equal to a papercut.

It had been a while, now, months of feeding Valerian and trying to keep him out of trouble. Well, out of trouble that wasn't orchestrated. The murders were still going on, as long as Amiel could keep them quiet. It wasn't hard. If suspicion fell on him, it was true that they might think to persecute him simply because he was creepy. However, he was nearly invisible, so for someone to notice him in the first place it would take quite a lot of energy. That would likely change someday, however; Amiel didn't plan on staying hidden in the shadows forever. Eventually he would walk in the sun like any other human being, and do his best to appear as one of them. Kind of an exercise in humanity. He looked down at Valerian and stroked what he deemed the imp's head gently, resting his hand against the disturbing flesh of sorts. Once, that sensation creeped him out beyond words, and he'd do anything to avoid it. Valerian, although he appeared lazy, had turned it into a game of ambush. Once, the imp had hidden on top of a book case and launched himself from it, diving straight at Amiel's face and latching on. That had been terrifying. He thought the imp was going to smother him, for a moment.

Valerian probably needed him for sustenance at the time, however, so he let go. That was what life had become: a series of frustrating and startling encounters with a simultaneously lazy and spiteful creature. It was a constant guessing game as to which urge would overwhelm the other: he would be too lazy to move, some days. Other days, every corner seemed to be an excuse for Valerian to pop out. The longer they were together, the more Valerian could run ahead and hide, too. The distance between them didn't feel as awful. That was the only true pain: if he forgot Valerian in another room and walked too far away, it felt like his chest was in an iron grip and breathing was impossible. Then the headaches would start, and once his nose had started to bleed all over the carpet. He still hadn't gotten the stains out of that vest.

The scars on Amiel's hands gleamed in the approaching light if he turned them just so. A kind of soft glow, picking up the pinks and oranges of the sky. They almost looked purposeful, when he moved them like that. They weren't, though. Ever since he'd taken Valerian home, his favourite hobby had been biting Amiel's hands. It was a good thing that Amiel knew how to take care of the wounds. Being a failed doctor had its benefits. Well, not failed... he didn't want to work with the living. He didn't want to be a doctor. That was why he worked with the dead.

Would he always work with the dead? Valerian's contract had changed his life, and Amiel thought it was for the better. The darkness that had plagued him was distant. He picked Valerian up in one arm, as he considered the pros and cons of his decision yet again, and eased himself off of the roof and onto the balcony using the ladder he had left up. Abandoned houses had so many uses. Valerian, as per usual, pretended to be completely asleep: if he was asleep, he couldn't be bothered to walk himself home. Therefore Amiel would be stuck wrapping him up and putting him in his bag again.

"You're too big for this, Valerian," he muttered, and placed the imp down on the steps facing the street. "I can't even fit you in my bag if I try."

Valerian huffed, and made some garbled sounds which Amiel couldn't help but think were meant to be words, and followed along behind him. Those little legs moved fast when Valerian wanted them to.

"When we get home, there will be cookies and milk for all," Amiel declared, raising his hands up to the sky as if asking for an offering. Valerian darted towards home, and Amiel actually had to start jogging lightly to keep up. He smiled, without even realizing it.