Well, it was also another name for a bodyguard, it worked both ways! Thus why he was amused at himself. But anyway... the Archangel makes a mental note about the Prophets weakness, confirming a suspicion he was fairly certain of. He smiles softly when the other produces a Zippo and moves carefully to take a seat and kick off his shoe. He'll peel off the blood-soaked sock, getting a good look at the damage done to his foot. The knife had sunk in pretty deep and at least now the Mirror could get an idea that yes, the Empyrean steel does do exactly what it's meant to.

Bravo.

He curls a wing around his shoulder and plucks a feather from it. He then holds it near the middle as he strikes up the Zippo. He holds the quill end over the flame until the tip grows waxy and wet as it melts. He'll then flick the zippo shut and hold the end over his wounded foot, squeezing a few drops out of it and through the open wound. He winces, hissing softly as the wound almost seems to echo the sound, skin and tissue sealing up slowly but surely.

"There." He sighs, holding his hand out to give him the Zippo as he wiggles his toes to get a feeling of the progress. Still a bit stingy and tingly but it's getting there.