He sighs as he spots his apothecary working at a steady pace at his workstation, bending and cutting and mixing and pouring, his apothecary whom he had told to return to his room for rest some time ago. Zed didn't notice his scrutinizing audience, too engrossed in his doings, his job required apt attention and he never faltered.

Stepping forward silently, he crossed between and behind his healers, as he came to stand in his desired position behind his Virtue. Crossing his arms over his chest, he heaves a sigh. "Zed, I told you to retire for the night."

"I'm almost done."

"It's amusing to me," He leans forward slightly. "That you think I was giving you an option."

"I'm fine. Let me just finish."

"Zad, I'm telling you, as an order, to retire for the night."

His apothecary waves a hand at him. "I will. When I'm done."

Rolling his eyes, the Healer sighs, and rolls up his sleeves. Cracking his fingers, he steps forward, if his apothecary wants to be stubborn then he will be harder to ignore. Zed doesn't see him coming, too engrossed in his work before him, and for that he's appreciative. His Virtue does however feel it when he digs his fingers deeply into his lower sides, squeezing in deep, kneading his way from his hips up to his lower ribcage. The reaction is immediate, he arches his back, arms raising slightly in surprise, the empty vials falling from his hands as he reaches down for the hands attacking him.

"Waitwaitwait!" Zed shrieks at once, bending over on himself, and his archangel follows. He's well versed in torturing his poor Virtues, he's had practice, lots and lots of practice. "I'll go! I'll go!"

"No, no, you had your chance." He pinches at his hips, digging his thumbs into the curve of the bone, Zed shrieks trying to shimmy away from him, but he holds on securely to his victim. "You wanted to finish so badly, then finish, put those vials away."

The apothecary barely manages to reach up for his vials when the fingers run up his sides again, and he arches once more, dropping the vials again in surprise of the action.

"I can't!"

"Oh," he smiles in amusement. "And why can't you?"

"Every time I lift my arms you make your attack!"

"Well, you don't have to, for me to 'make my attack'." He digs in again and Zed yells in surprise once more. "I can do it any time I desire it." He chuckles as his Virtue barks a laugh and finds himself unable to stop. "Do you regret not listening to me, now?" Zed nods as he laughs and laughs, under the Healer's skillful fingers, curling his arms around himself to try and put a stop to his playful torture. "Go on, put your vials away." He shakes his head and the Healer smiles. "Put them away, Zed."

The Virtue nods, biting back his laughter, as he picks the vials on his table back up and reaches upwards to set them on their shelf. As he reaches, the hand lets go of his right side, and ten fingers skitter up his left. He yelps, drawing his hands back, leaning away from him, curling to the side, laughter exploding from him when the hands jump to his other side. "Put them away, Zed, put them where they belong." The fingers spider across his lower back, he arches away from them, and skitter back up his left side again. "Clean up your workstation." He forces the vials down, laughing brightly at the playful torment he faces, and reaches back down for his fingers. "Are you going to head on to the Loft and go to sleep, just as I told you to?"

Zed nods, his fingers curled around his Archangels. "Yes! Yes!"

"Good angel." He gives one final well meant squeeze and lets him go. "Now, off with you."

…

He took good care of his Virtues, their care and wellbeing was in his hands and he took very good care of them, their relationship was one he cherished. So, when Oren had come to him complaining about his feet aching, he took hold of the issue immediately, dismissing himself from the Infirmary floor and escorting his Captain back up to the Loft above them.

Where they sat together in the pillow filled lounge, his Captain laying across one of the cushioned benches, his feet resting in his lap as he massages the ache away. Oren sighs deeply, in comfort, as he works his 'magic', as they call it.

"I haven't had you in this position for some time."

Oren knows his Archangel very well. He glances up at him from under his arms. "Don't."

"I didn't insinuate anything, I was merely stating a fact, it's just been some time."

"I know what you're thinking." He glares at him a moment longer before laying back down. "Don't."

"I don't understand where you get the notion that you can order me to do anything." He curls his fingers around his ankle. "You are my Captain, and I your Commander, if anyone here gives the orders, it is me."

"Is it, though?"

"Let's test that theory, shall we?" The archangel strokes a finger down the sole of his right foot, and he jolts slightly, kicking at his hand, glaring at him from under his arm when he chuckles at the reaction. "Order me to stop and see if I listen."

Oren jolts slightly when he scratches at the ball of his foot, and he can see the uplift of a smile peeking out at him from under his Captain's arm, he chuckles slightly and strokes his finger back down the sole. "Come, order me to do your bidding."

"Stohop!"

"I don't think so." Raphael shakes his head, poking at his toes lightly, and smiles in amusement when his Captain shrieks softly, yanking at his foot, only to find it trapped under his tortures. "I can't take your orders seriously if you're going to giggle."

"I'm nohohohot gihiggling!"

"You're not, are you sure, I could swear you were."

Oren kicks at him with his free foot. "Yohohour gohohoing senile!"

"You were always so cheeky." He turns to look at him, an eyebrow raised. "Did you just call me old?"

It's like his mighty Captain is a small fledgling again, giggling still, even though he's halted his torment. He smiles adoringly, shaking his head, when his grown charge tests his luck in nodding his head.

"I thought you did."

He lifts his leg slightly, straightening it out, and reaches forward to wiggle fingers under his knee. The Virtue Captain snorts, pulling at his leg, and throws his head back in laughter. He knows all the right buttons to push for him to get the best sorts of responses. He knows how to bring even the mightiest of the archangels to his knees, though only uses that knowledge on special occasions, Michael takes his revenge very seriously, and very much to heart.

…

The Healer catches him off guard, on more then once occurrence, when he seems to be too caught up in the atmospheric pressure in the Infirmary, emotions blending into one, overwhelming him.

He pokes him swiftly in the belly as they pass each other.

He continues on, but smiles knowingly, as the Virtue jumps and spins around, hands pressed to his belly protectively.

He pokes him swiftly in the belly when he comes to stand at his side as he instructs the new learners under their guidance.

Ephraim watches for him carefully for a while, it brings him great amusement, guarding himself whenever he walks passed. It brings him pause for a bit, waiting for him to grow complacent again, before beginning anew.

He finds his opening soon enough, as the unsuspecting Virtue reaches up to place a pile of folded cleaned tunics in the cupboard, he comes in swiftly behind him and reaches around to poke him in the belly. Ephraim yelps brightly, throwing his arms up in surprise, the tunics going flying up, falling over the floor in a heap.

"Hello, Eph." Raphael comes in behind him, curling his arms around his waist, pulling him back into his chest. His Virtue falls still, looking up at him. "Hello."

"I've decided that you need a good laugh." He smiles. "Something to brighten your mood."

"I don't. But thanks for the concern."

He chuckles lowly, leaning forward to whisper in his ear. "I'd disagree. And who could argue that knowledge with me?"

His fingers curl into his belly dangerously, and Ephraim looks down at them cautiously, squirming slightly in his hold. "I would try."

The fingers dig in and he doubles over at the sudden assault. "You'd lose."

…

He manages to get Constantine and Akriel at the same time, coming to stand between them as they guide their new class, and curls his arms around their middles.

There's no introduction, no warning of the attack to come, he only smiles at his new student learners.

And digs into their ribs at the same time.