Finding You

Angel

"What in the hell is that thing?"

Her fingers tightly clutching the hunting knife wrapped firmly in her palms, Jemma shook her head.

The thing, as Daisy so eloquently put it, wasn't human. No surprise there, Jemma thought dully. But then again, when was he last time anything in her life was human? Other than Daisy, she might well be a hermit with a car for a friend.

Inwardly clearing her mind, she focused again on the figure before her. He was wearing a trench coat of all things, covering what appeared to be a simple white dress shirt and tie. His hair was mussed, jaw unshaven, and eyes bright blue . . . decidedly rather un-demon like, in her experience.

Nonetheless, this thing had just resisted iron and salt rounds, every warding symbol Melinda May could come up with, and the demon blade she currently clutched.

The - thing, for lack of a better term - cocked his head curiously at her. Jemma scrunched up her nose in an attempt to look fierce, but knew it was a losing battle. She'd never been able to look determined, much to Daisy's never ending amusement.

"I'm not a thing," he spoke, startling Jemma into nearly losing her knife. His voice was soft, a Scottish lilt to the undertone. She felt a shiver down her spine.

His eyes landed heavily on Jemma, blue and clear with fascination. The huntress swallowed around the apprehension in her throat. "Then what are you?"

The crease in his forehead crinkled, eyebrows scrunching. "I'm not a demon, if that is what you mean." Eyes still on Jemma, almost as if ignoring Daisy's presence, he took a short step towards the trees at the edge of the clearing. The faint moonlight lit his curls, giving him an almost luminescent glow. "I'm an angel of the Lord,"