#i like to imagine clark just thousand yard staring for a minute when az converses with him

[kxllerblond]

"you helped him. why can't you help me? what makes me so different?" from az lmao

Clark had come a long way with his hatred for demons. He still LOATHED them, but he'd matured enough to be able to discern that the crawling, agitating feeling he felt inch up his spine whenever Az spoke was very much an Az-specific thing and NOT necessarily a demon-specific ick.

The cambion doesn't bother to hide his disdain or his annoyance because he both knew it to be pointless and also because he simply couldn't be bothered to put in that much effort. His thumb traces the curved rim of his mug and he exhales-—long and tired as if he's already saddled with the fatigue from the conversation that had only just started.

❝ Because you don't need it. You are a reality-warping, mind-fucking, who knows what else practical-deity-—just in case you forgot. And, more importantly, I don't want to give it because I don't like you. ❞