Castiel stood faced with the stiff mirror once again, turning his head side to side to check for any misalignments. The soft jazz accompanied his slow movements, promoting a leisurely atmosphere. He adjusted his tie and exhaled, his lips parting softly as he clenched his jaw. The lingering taste of acidity from the coffee still clinging onto the insides of his mouth.
His mind pondered over the interaction with the executive associate, his behaviour had been irritating for what was supposed to be a professional interaction. He was something like a car salesman, persistent, stubborn, and perceptive. Admittedly, Castiel held a certain amount of admiration for such people. How they were able to talk nonstop and successfully persuade unsuspecting souls was foreign to him.
Samael Lascaris had moved to entertain another group of people, like he had been pulled away by the current and drifted off to another reef. There wasn't much to gauge from their parting, a simple glance to each other and a smile on the side as if they hadn't just started a war with each other.
Matthews had called him over to greet a late party of guests. There, Samael grinned widely and continued to gesture with his hands as he spoke to a group of women who all fiddled with their wine flutes. Castiel saw a lady at the man's side, the same one who had bothered him earlier.
Back in the restroom, Castiel washed his hands. Running them under the gentle stream of cold water and applying a soap that smelled vaguely of lavender. He scrubbed the entire remainder of soap off his hands and used the mildly rough paper towel from the dispenser to dry them. This action was small, but with its help he regained his composure. He held the door's cold metal handle and pulled it with minimal force; he must go out again.
A piercing sound tore through the building. Castiel halted. An eerie outer silence accompanied the restroom's light jazz. There was no reason a building full of obnoxious people should be so quiet. Closely behind the silence followed gasps and frightened screams that erupted into the air like party streamers.
Castiel shut the door and removed his glasses, placing them on the counter beside the sink before heading out. He moved swiftly, carrying himself alertly and stepping lightly as his eyes followed the stream of people that shoved their way out of the building. To his right there was a broken vase, destroyed by the impact of a projectile. Ahead he saw one of the glass windows that had been shattered. People desperately climbed their way through it.
A woman's long dress snagged on a jagged piece of glass on the window, her grave screams attacked Castiel's ears. She frantically tore the fabric through the glass with much struggle, her fingers and lower leg attaining slashes of injury in the process.
Several shot fires rang through the building, accompanying people's distress. To Castiel, these shots sounded lazy and lacking aim, fired by someone who had insufficient experience. He turned his head, scanning the room and attempting to follow the sound of each bang. He roughly estimated the shooter's position through the sporadic paths of each bullet from their marks on the walls.
He clicked his tongue and threw himself into the action instead, failing to pinpoint any pattern in the succession of each shot. He aided some individuals in effectively exiting through the doors, instructing them to call for help as they left.
A sixth bullet was fired, the sound was clearer and more direct. Castiel whipped his head to the left, sensing an intention with that gunfire.
A guttural scream creased the air and met Castiel's ears, there he saw Samael with his jaw clenched. He eagerly limped while aiding his boss to safety, finally pushing her out the door before inhaling deeply as he fell on his left knee.
Castiel rushed over, attempting to avoid the scattered pieces of broken wine glasses and the red liquid that surrounded them. He bumped into disarrayed furniture as he strove to navigate through the maze of chaos. He openly cursed his company's shoes as their lack of flexibility restricted him from any complex movement, further complicating his path to the injured. It was almost as if his boss was actually there forcing him to stay still. He subconsciously took in the details of his peer's wound, analyzing the behaviour of the bullet now that it had reached its terminal destination. It was fired from a shorter distance, resulting in a strictly straight and meaningful impact. There was no strange angle, it was quite literally fired parallel to Samael. There was even a downwards tilt, suggesting the shooter aimed their gun down because of the close proximity.
Castiel reached for a discarded pen on the floor before finally reaching Samael.
"Are you alright?" slipped out of Castiel's mouth as he lifted the other man cautiously, doing his best to support Samael's weight. The taller of the two took on as much responsibility as he could to walk properly, attempting to lessen the burden placed on Castiel who carried him.
Samael bitterly huffed a laugh, "not exactly." His eyes mildly shook when he looked down at the blood soaking his pants. He breathed heavily and fought against his stubborn body that lagged behind him, ineffectively helping Castiel who was eagerly trying to haul him away. Samael gazed behind them, faint yelps from people still searching their ways out. Castiel hurriedly dragged the injured man, looking for the restroom he had been in earlier.
While frantically traveling to the sanctuary, Castiel stumbled over a chunk of ceramic. Samael stumbled along with him, inhaling sharply at the sudden movement.
Castiel glanced at him to check his expression. "Sorry," he apologized upon seeing the man was gripping the area above his knee. Samael was attempting to apply pressure to slow down the gush of his bleeding.
Castiel was overwhelmed by the situation at hand, not once had he ever dealt with an active threat that affected a large group of people. He hastily shoved the door of the restroom open and placed Samael on the cold tile floor, leaning his back against the door.
Both men were breathing unsteadily, Castiel plopped down to the ground beside his injured acquaintance and glanced at the wound that hadn't stopped bleeding. He exhaled shakily and hesitantly removed his tie, quickly wrapping it around Samael's thigh. He pulled out the pen, fumbling it between his fingers while trying to knot the tie around it. He twisted the pen and the tie, using it as a makeshift tourniquet.
"This isn't professional, nor is it safe," Castiel sternly stated, pointing to the amateurly made tourniquet.
"You're still worried about professionalism? Try worrying about your life," Samael coughed. He tilted his head down and gazed at his hand covered in bright hues of red from the slowly oxidizing blood. His fingers trembled and his surroundings appeared to shift, spinning and causing him to be lightheaded. "I don't care if it's unsafe, I'd rather have this than continue to gush out all my blood."
"Once this situation at hand ends, you will get out of here and immediately head to the hospital." Castiel sighed and pressed his forehead into the side of his hand while his arm rested on top of his knee. He couldn't explain this situation to his boss, and he was unsure if his coworkers had left safely. This was nothing short of disastrous. He glanced at Samael's face, observing his queasy expression and his focus on his own bloodied hand. Castiel carefully lifted him up and brought him to the sink, turning it on and running the man's hands under the clean water.
Samael, distraught by both the blood on his hands and the other man's actions, stood in place for a few seconds. He allowed the cold water to carry the stains away and let them slip through his fingers. Samael nudged Castiel with his elbow, "I can handle myself."
"Like hell you can," Castiel sighed.
"I appreciate your effort, but I'm not in need of a personal caretaker. Observe, as I am perfectly capable of cleaning my appearance," he said with a hint of sarcasm before flashing a smile, almost finding the interaction to be like a mother grooming her kitten.
Castiel nodded and returned an unsure smile, respecting his request. The man took a few steps back and passively watched his acquaintance as he turned off the tap and grabbed a few pieces of paper towel to dry his hands.
A faint scent emitted from Samael's hands, "lavender soap?" Samael expressed his utter disgust. "Seriously, who allowed this…"
Castiel turned away, seeing how Samael seemed to be alive enough. He instinctively tried reaching for his phone that was usually in his right pocket, but he realized that it wasn't there. It must've fallen out of his pocket at some point.
"Gross, this paper is so low grade," Samael shook his head with mild disdain in his expression. He mumbled something to himself lowly before mercilessly discarding it in the tall trash bin.
Castiel began taking slow steps, unhurriedly walking back and forth from wall to wall of the restroom. He followed the straight lines on the tiled floor, continuously landing on them as he stepped forward. He placed his hand on his hip and continued to stare at the floor and sigh occasionally.
Samael watched the other as he paced like a shark swimming in circles around a school of fish, or even a hamster on a wheel. "Are you alright?" the amused man asked.
Castiel looked up at the other, holding his troubled expression as he finished one more lap before leaning on the firm wall beside the door. "Do you have your phone on you?"
Samael patted his pant pocket, then he squinted and shrugged his left shoulder. "Must've lost it," he laughed in some faux apologetic tone. Castiel exhaled deeply and reached for the door handle, preparing to open it.
"Wait!" Samael exclaimed, "that could be dangerous, you know, it would benefit you to be more cautious."
More cautious? Castiel was astonished, he couldn't believe he was the one being told to be careful. He had to hold back from releasing a deep sigh and shook his head in defeat, " you're right…" Being cautious was obviously the best way to go on.
Samael shushed the man by shoving his finger in front of his face, "hold on, I'm curious about something." Castiel's eyes narrowed, this was no time to be discussing anything other than their way out of this situation. Was there something Samael Lascaris valued more than his life? What could possibly be worth getting shot over?
Nonetheless, he was willing to entertain the man's question.
Samael spoke after a few seconds of silence, taking it as his sign to begin. "Why didn't you leave along with the crowd of people? By the time you got to me, majority of the bystanders had already exited the building. Traffic wasn't busy anymore, so why didn't you just make your way out as well?"
"Are you saying that you're ungrateful?" Castiel raised a brow, speaking with a slightly patronizing tone. "Would you have preferred to crawl your way out, leaving a trail of blood?"
Castiel suddenly felt a delayed pang of conscience; saying those words was unnecessary. He should refrain from saying what he doesn't have to, there's no benefit. He felt that no matter how irritated he was, he should never act upon it. Nothing good came out of it, nothing useful. Anger was a consequence of stupidity.
Samael raised his brows, clearly entertained by this reaction. "Not at all, I seriously appreciate it," he paused to softly knock on the wall. "However, there's not much we can do. The police have likely already been called, we just have to wait." He returned Castiel's action, tilting his head. "Why not pass the time?"
Castiel stood straight, nodding his head slightly. Samael's words carried truth, and even unconventional logic behind them. Castiel returned to sitting on the ground, his back hunched over slightly as he tried to come up with the appropriate words for this situation.
"Sulking on the ground isn't the most optimal choice," Samael threw in, possibly meant to be taken as advice. He unevenly knelt down near his companion and took note of his inconvenienced expression and darting gaze.
The music playing from the restroom speakers swayed in thirds, exactly the same as how it was earlier when Castiel basked in his make-shift solitude. The room's hug of ambient lighting cast over the occupants, slowly baking them alive as if they were in a preheating oven.
Castiel filtered out the music so he could focus, he's never been confident in his ability to solve problems creatively. He's fighting this issue too directly, too linear. His gaze shifted everywhere from the sides of the room, to scanning across the floor and climbing up the tall sleek walls and door. He was mentally using his glares to poke holes in the solid ceiling, as if that would do something. This place was built too well, gleaming with blinding passionate artistry and resilient durability.
Samael raised a brow, he could only attempt to guess the other's train of thought; following his eyes and refraining from any comments to see how he can further experiment the qualities of his peer.
"You're stressing too much–" the last thing Samael blurted before the heavy metal door was whipped open, slamming both him and Castiel in the sides of their heads.