"Angel?"

"What?"

"Demon?"

"How dare you?"

"Alien?"

"What are you trying to ask, human?" Kuzma yelled, annoyed with Marcus' sudden and random one worded questions.

Turning his head away from the bedroom ceiling, Marcus looked at Kuzma who was sitting up on the far end of the bed, as far away from Marcus as he could be without having to get up.

"I'm trying to guess what you are," he said as he drummed his fingers on his stomach, trying to ignore the fact that his previously well-toned abs were getting less so by the day.

"It is nothing you need to worry about, human. Just leave and let me heal in peace so that I can leave this place."

I wouldn't mind if you wanted to stay though.

Wow, dude. Could you be any more sad?

I still wouldn't mind if he stayed.

I should really stop having these mental conversations with myself.

"Why won't you tell me? Can I know that at least?" Marcus asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

"History has shown that the small, closed minds of humans are unable to grasp what they do not understand," Kuzma seethed and Marcus did not know why he was angry with him again.

Then again, he didn't really have an argument for that.

"True but from what you know about humans, you really think I'm going to react like that? I mean, I didn't call the White House or the FBI or Oprah when I found a guy with wings in my house, and you think I'm going to do it just from a name?"

"Yes. Oprah? What's that?"

Marcus' eyebrows furrowed, wondering if the guy had ever even used a television before, but put that question in the back of his mind to be asked some other time.

"Fine," Marcus said with a sigh, turning back to look up at the cream-colored ceiling.

With his swinging feet dangling over the left side of the bed, he hummed a piano piece he had been listening to whenever he had a break from those rich kids he had to endure five times a week.

Christmas break, you couldn't come fast enough.

His mind began to wander, daydreaming about silly things like he did whenever he had nothing better to do or was in a situation he didn't want to be in.

He thought about having a magic paintbrush and painting a giant pegasus, his ten-year-old self, jumping on his majestic creature's back and flying around the world, maybe even other dimensions.

It was an odd little daydream he had as a weird little kid, one that always made his Gran and his best friend, Mina, laugh and play along with him. They tended to do that whenever Marcus let his imagination run wild, they just played along with him instead of saying what everyone else said. That he was a freak with mental issues.

He missed those days with his little family but the mere thought of that crazy make-believe adventure always did bring a smile to his tired face. Even though it was a sad smile, it was a smile all the same.

"...You did not act like I expected a human to."

Marcus blinked rapidly, returning back to his reality that had stopped being boring since Friday evening. Well, not as boring as usual.

"What? How would you have expected me to act? You were dying on my couch," Marcus asked, voice remaining steady.

"I meant after, even though your reaction during that was still odd. You are acting like all this is not strange. You do not even question the fact that my skin has healed faster than yours would have, humans being so weak and all,-"

Is that something he just needs to point out?

"-or...or where I had escaped from. For all you know, my presence here could be a danger to you. For all you know, you could die just from seeing me. Yet you let me stay, treat me with kindness, feed and clothe me and I still do not believe there is no payment involved. I expected humans to have either killed me or yes, gotten their leaders. Or even interrogate me until answers were given."

Kuzma paused, staring at Marcus with narrowed eyes.

"Are you well? Is your mind intact?"

Marcus rose an eyebrow at that, lips twitching before returning to their regular state.

"Do you want me to act all shocked and scared of you being here? Sorry, but I don't like stressing over things. Waste of time and exhausting. I'd rather just go with the flow," Marcus said, returning to his humming.

"Did you not hear me? There could be people searching for me. Nyet, I am sure they are searching for me, and others too and even if humans are favored, I don't think they care much about keeping their souls intact! Do you understand, human? You could die!"

Marcus thought about and wondered if Kuzma was saying all that all of a sudden to get some kind of reaction.

He wondered if it were true or if Kuzma was just being over dramatic for some reason. He wondered what Kuzma meant by favored and intact souls and others out there looking for his guest.

Marcus wondered about a lot of things right then, so many questions and guesses running through his mind, and honestly, most of it was what he was going to make for dinner.

"It happens, it happens. That's then, this is now and right now, I can't just kick you out if that was what you were trying to make me do and I don't want you to give me some kind of payment. I just want you to get better, have a friend," Marcus answered with a shrug.

Kuzma was silent for a while, Marcus closing his eyes to enjoy the moment of peace he predicted was going to end sooner or later. His guest was in a talkative mood after all.

"Do you not care about your life? What good is keeping me here for whatever plan you have if you die?"

Marcus let out a long, exasperated but quiet sigh.

"Listen bird-man," he started, ignoring his guest's slight scoff of outrage. "I don't need nothing from you and I don't like worrying about shit that hasn't happened or won't happen yet unless it's on TV, my laptop or in a book. Understand that I'm just trying to help you."

Marcus huffed, sitting up. His mellow mood was ruined with that little annoying speech. Although he didn't think he sounded annoyed. Even to his own ears, he sounded the same. No wonder those kids never listen to me.

"Why? That doesn't make sense," Kuzma grumbled in Russian, making Marcus turn to look at him.

Marcus felt his fingers twitch, his arms being held back by pure willpower to keep himself from pulling Kuzma into a hug because his somewhat snobbish guest with a temper for days looked so small.

Kuzma, his right hand taking a fistful of his beautiful black hair as he stared at his trimmed black toenails, looked completely agitated, confused and beyond lost.

The poor guy didn't look like he was able to understand that, unable to understand that Marcus just wanted to help. It was like the mere thought of someone just doing something out of the goodness of their hearts was impossible for Kuzma and that was just so sad.

"Hey."

Kuzma blinked up at Marcus when he spoke.

"Don't think too much. If there's one thing I know, overthinking things only gets you in trouble. Just--" Marcus stopped as he tried to think of the right words. "This might be too much to ask, but just give me a chance? Maybe? You never know. You might like me."

"Ha! I doubt that."

"I said you never know. Jeez. Hurtful. And if it turns out to be true that I'm lying and messing with you, you could just kill me yourself, right?" Marcus said before getting off the bed, headed for the door so that he could fix up the couch before the TV guys showed up.

You might even be doing me a favor.

Get lost, bad thoughts. Get lost. Not the time.

"I would've done so anyway," Kuzma said behind him, a warning not all that well hidden in those words and it made Marcus let out a short, breathy laugh before closing the bedroom door.

I really, really need to go out more. My inner dialogue is reaching levels that I should be worried about.