Raphael blinked once, twice, as though he hadn't heard right. "Pardon me… did you just say… blood?"
Hermes' patience was thin. The Night Cyclops was still groaning above them, its glowing eye rolling like a lighthouse of death.
"Yes. Blood. Yours. Mine. It's the only shot we've got."
Raphael gave a soft, incredulous laugh, though there was no mockery in it. "That's… unexpected."
"I thought you'd say 'ridiculous' or 'fucking weird'." Hermes muttered.
The younger man studied him carefully, golden light reflecting in his mask.
"I suspected something earlier," Raphael said. "When you pulled strands of hair from your comrades. I thought it was panic, or ritual. But no… it was deliberate."
Hermes stiffened. "…You saw that."
"I can see in the dark," Raphael explained, simply. No accusation. Just fact. "So it's true. You… absorb powers."
Hermes scowled, not denying it. "The name of my ability given by my system is actually Power Thief, not Copy Cat."
