Angel
She really didn't play fair. Asking him to call her an angel like that? With the little embarrassed smile. Of course she looked like an angel. And not only was the new uniform kickass, but she looked fucking adorable in it too. Was she an angel? Of course she was. She was the reason he was finally a Death Scythe, the reason there was something that made him feel like something special. She was the only reason he could ward off the insanity.
So it went without saying that he responded to her request with a smirk and some sarcasm. What better way was there to get rid of that slight blush and replace it with some anger directed at him? That was something he could actually deal with. It pissed him off seeing how much pleasure she felt from being called that. Being called that by someone who wasn't him. Not that he would actually say it out loud. That was something he was too cool for. Or at least that was what he told himself whenever he started to get hot under the collar.
So what if it was nice seeing that dopey little smile? He preferred the expression that accompanied a Maka Chop. So he wasn't going to call her an angel. Angels weren't violent and stubborn. Angels also weren't flat-chested bookworms (though he had to grudgingly admit that she now only fell into one of those categories due to recent developments). And angels definitely didn't swing around scythes and hang out with the likes of him.
So she wasn't an angel, and that was the end of the story. But if couldn't hurt to give her the puffy little wings she wanted. At least for now. It was the least he could do.)