Work Text:
Angel, allow me. You'd take back the sword?
Or think so, when it's briefly waved at you?
And if I could, would I take back my words?
No, I would not. And this is nothing new.
Give me that look again, and I'll fulfil
All your strange wants, especially for ill.
Demon, you appoint yourself my conscience —
I will have you complicit in my sins.
Pretend with me that none of this is nonsense
And I'll pretend I needed rescuing.
I want your fellowship, I want some food.
I'll leave my clothes with this one, who was rude.
You needn't put your bastardry on me.
I'm only here, where I'm supposed to be.