Date: 2013-04-07 05:18 am (UTC)
nextinline: (kellen)
From: [personal profile] nextinline
No, attacking is nearly the last thing on Stark's mind, particularly with his right arm all screwed up. Not that he couldn't easily take a human, even a human hunter, even an exceptionally skilled human hunter, but what would be the point? The fucking angel would probably just resurrect him again.

"Theoretically blank," he responds, then falls silent. Waits, then waits some more, but is pleased - and more than a little surprised - when no more questions are forthcoming. There's a knock on the door, followed by a muffled voice calling "Room service!" and Stark rolls off the bed to answer it, since he is closer. He takes the cart, hands the teenager wheeling it along some cash, and closes the door before the kid ceases staring in horrified curiosity at his scarred face and mud-plastered arm.

Directing the room service cart into the space between the beds, Stark collects his own burger - served with aplomb on a fancy china plate, which he finds ridiculous - and collapses back onto the bed. "Speaking of addresses, you should find out where your brother is. We can leave in the morning; I have a few things to take care of tonight."
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