Looking away was definitely William's idea of giving in, almost like he was rolling over in a show of submission. It was also humiliating as hell. Why was he doing this again? Why was he letting a fake archangel shove him around so much?

The twist at his arm sharply reminds him, William hissing in equal parts pain and incredulity. What the Hell? There's beads of sweat on his forehead now, skin pale and eyes watering at the pain. It felt like he was a second away from getting his arm torn clean off and it has the mirror biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. He didn't want to cave in and admit defeat, but if he didn't then how would be be able to serve God? Or more accurately, how would he be able to get his own back against the archangel?

"Clear." Just that one whispered word is hard to get out, almost as if agreeing is going to choke him.