Well this is awkward.

He smiled. "I see," he said. "I miss it there sometimes. But I don't really know if I could return... I'd have no where to go, really." Wow. Shy, locked up, anti-social Damien Trust was actually kind of opening up.

And it was exactly what Tristan had been fearing.

Get a grip, man! Don't open up and tell her these things! She doesn't need or want to know!

"I'll tell her what I please..." Damien said quietly, knowing quite well that defying his stronger, scarier self was a bad idea. Oh well.

He was silent for a few moments, listening as Tristan yelled at him. He waited until his other half had stopped until he spoke. "My family didn't want me," Damien told her. She was the first person at this school that knew... and the only person, if he could help it. "But whatever. It's alright..."

The boy's body suddenly stiffened, and he swallowed. "No... no, Tristan, don't..." he said, looking down. It was above a soft voice but below a normal tone, so it was easily audible to anyone but himself and Brielle.

Tristan was sick of it. He had to take over and get them out of here, then deal with his softer half.

"I'm sorry. I really am."

Damien offered a soft smile to show that it was really alright. "Don't... worry about it..." he said, struggling to get the words out because most of his concentration was on keeping Tristan away.

"Who's Tristan?"

The young man was about to answer, but he couldn't, he pulled his hand away from hers and crossed his arms over his chest, against the wall now as he tried to stop it. Wasn't worth it, though. Damien's skin became slightly darker and his eyes turned into a burning green, while his hair shortened and became black. Standing there was a whole new person with large, feathered, maroon wings stretched out.

"That would be me," he said, looking down at her with a look on his face that could send chills down ones spine in fear. The anger in his eyes was that fierce.

"You're the one who asked. Maybe you should just keep that ugly little mouth of yours shut if you ask questions you don't really want to know to answer to," Tristan said, and rather rudely at that. He wasn't usually one for sarcasm, and preferred to just tell things the way they were. There was no point in dodging the point in his opinion. Her death glare didn't phase him, and the young man actually smirked in amusement as his wings folded over his back.

"Nice attempt at a glare. Could use some work, though. You should work on those things instead of always meddling in other people's business." Maybe it wasn't the best insult, but hey, it worked.

Tristan, PLEASE! Don't be so mean to her! Damien pleaded, not wanting his other self to hurt Brielle's feelings. He couldn't regain control just yet, though; he had to wait a few moments for his strength to return.

Tristan said, thought, and did nothing as he saw that smirk. It made him the tinniest bit confused, but he wasn't really concerned about it. As she started walking to where her crutch was, he thought maybe she had given up and was walking away. A triumphant look came to his eyes... well, until she started walking back. The winged male blinked, though he didn't have enough time to get out of the way of the crutch. It came down on his head and he immediately fell to the ground in a heap, unconscious.

His appearance slowly melted back to that of Damien's, though he was still unconscious. That crutch had hit him hard.