...That doesn't change anything. You're half... no, you're a demon. Angels would kill a demon on sight.

( It's clearly something deep rooted in him that has him sounding like a broken record, right now. His fingers curl into his own fists before he shifts, gripping at the scarred back of his left hand with his right. It doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel normal.

So why does he want to say yes? To believe he can get along with him? )

I'll go with you, but don't think this makes us friends.