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"Just stop, it's over!"
Lute stood, bloodied, exhausted, chest heaving with each ragged breath. It was, wasn't it? Over. She'd lost.
Her cheeks were hot, a disgusting mix of blood and tears or just pure shame. How pathetic. Everything she'd been working towards, her entire life, every moment spent fighting, amounting to nothing.
And Adam.... she collapsed forward with a sob, sword clattering to the ground.
Someone was there to catch her, soft and warm, holding her oh so gently, as if she would crumble apart any second. Her limbs refused to cooperate when she told them to strike back, claw at the offending presence.
"We can get you some help, Lute, if you let us."
"Don't want it." Lute hissed, but it lost all bite with the way her cheek was pressed to Charlie's chest.
"Please let us help."
"Why?"
"Because... you're not a bad person, you've just been hurt. A lot. And I know that's partially my fault, and I'm sorry, and I want to try to make it right. Adam was-"
"Don't say his name."
Charlie flinched at the harsh tone, but stayed quiet, didn't let her go.
She was so damn persistant, taking each blow and still getting up to face the next, there wasn't a thing Lute could have done, could ever do to get her to stay down.
The thought brought more tears to the angel's eyes and she grasped at anything she could reach, desperate to inflict one last sting of pain as she gave in. Her whole body shook with sobs as she mourned, the loss of Adam, the loss of her arm, the failure of her revenge plan. So pathetic and worthless.
Lute sniffed, curled up tighter in that demonic embrace, "Okay." She whispered, "Take me to this stupid hotel."