Azrael, tucked away in one of Beelzebean's back tables with a book and a macchiato, looked up as a familiar presence settled into the seat opposite hers. "Hi, Josh," she greeted, tucking in a bookmark and setting the book aside.

"Reincarnation Blues?" Josh queried with a nod to the book, sliding one of the two cups he carried to rest next to her near-empty one.

"I'm in it," Azrael replied, with a shrug. "It's an ARC; one of the librarians let me borrow it. I go by Suzie in the book, which I absolutely would not, but at least I'm female. I'm not really in it much so far; it's more about the guy who reincarnates."

Looking a little amused Josh queried, "Don't the librarians notice all the Death-books you're reading?"

Azrael nodded. "They find them for me, even. Librarians aren't supposed to judge your reading choices. Though I'm pretty sure they call me weird when I'm not around. I suppose, by their standards, I am."

"True," Josh agreed, laughing as Azrael made a wry face. "Hey, you said it. Was I not supposed to agree with you?"

Shaking her head, Azrael murmured, amused, "Son of God, and you can't figure that out? No wonder you're so unlucky in love."

"Hey, now," Josh protested, laughing. "It's not that I'm unlucky. There has always been interest. I just never…" He let his voice trail off, and Azrael nodded.

"Yeah, we're not having that conversation," she said firmly. "I should not have gone there, sorry. Baby brother, disturbing mental images… just no."

His expression growing serious, Josh leaned back in the chair, saying, "Can you guess why I'm here?"

Azrael pretended to ponder the question, tapping at her cheek with one index finger. "You simply could not stand to be without the pleasure of my company for a minute longer," she decided, with a quick smile. "Or, ooh, you wanted to get me another macchiato." She took the cup he'd put before her, with a murmur of thanks, and tasted its contents. "Hey, I was right! Wow, at least somebody is answering my prayers."

"Careful." Despite the warning, Josh looked amused. He said more seriously, "C'mon, Rae. It's been a week since Michael spoke with you."

"An instant," Azrael replied, "Compared to the duration of human existence. Actually, can we go back to discussing your love life or lack thereof? I think that would be more pleasant."

Josh smiled. "It would be boring, Rae. There's nothing to tell."

Azrael sat up, scanning the coffeeshop. "We could make it more interesting…"

Josh, recognizing the danger in his sister's intent expression if not the specifics of what she had in mind, warned, "Rae."

"There she is." Azrael waved, calling brightly, "Alex, hi. Come meet my brother!"

"Rae," Josh protested, but Alex was already there, smiling.

"Hi, Rae's brother," Alex said cheerfully. "I hope you know you've got the sweetest little sister ever."

Azrael smiled, it must be said, angelically. A shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds and shone through the window, turning her hair into a halo, and Josh murmured something about Raziel and weather and overkill. Though, really, it was a little unsettling if their conversation was being followed that closely.

"Josh," Josh supplied. He refrained from commenting on Azrael's sweetness, instead giving his sister a look that mingled amusement and exasperation.

Alex leaned lightly against the table. "Hi, Josh. I'm Alex. It's nice to meet you. Are you the brother Rae was staying with?"

Josh shook his head, supplying, "That's Lucifer."

Alex smiled, dimples appearing in her cheeks. "So it's Azrael," she said, "And Lucifer and Josh? That's some weird naming, I have to say."

"Lucifer and I are full siblings, but Josh is a half," Azrael offered. "Same father, vastly different mothers." She paused, then added, "Vastly different life experiences, too, for that matter."

Josh added, though not without a nod acknowledging his sister's words, "And Josh is actually a nickname, though you're welcome to call me that. Rae does."

"What do you do, Josh?" Alex queried.

Azrael answered for him, all girlish enthusiasm, though Josh caught the glint in her eyes. "He's a surfer. He's so good! It's like he can walk on water. Ouch!" She made a face at Josh, then turned back to Alex. "He just kicked me under the table! I guess he doesn't like me bragging on him."

"You shouldn't kick your sister," Alex chided, though she looked like she was trying not to laugh. "I do a little surfing, myself." She looked toward the front of the store as a co-worker called for her, then said, "Maybe I'll see you out there."

Josh said amiably, "She's nice."

"Yes," Azrael agreed, drawing out the word a little as she watched the barista leave.

Josh followed the direction of his sister's gaze and shook his head, amused. "Really?"

Azrael shrugged. "Why not? Doesn't hurt to look. Dad could take it as a compliment."

Josh laughed outright at that, and the couple at the next table smiled to hear him. "You shouldn't have said that about me walking on water," he added, though his tone held no reproof.

With another shrug, Azrael replied, "You saw her - she didn't believe me. They never do. I can say weird things and I get away with it because I'm cute." She offered an overly sweet smile, then chuckled before adding, "Lucifer can get away with even more, with the accent and all. Wonder if that was intentional."

"Still, I'm not sure what you were trying to accomplish, calling her over," Josh observed.

Azrael looked as if she wasn't entirely sure. "It seemed like fun," she said finally. "I mean, it was fun, right? Besides the part where you kicked me."

"It was a tap," Josh protested.

"Pretty violent for the Prince of Peace," Azrael teased. "Next you're going to tell me you're a bad shepherd."

Josh shook his head, looking entertained. "Okay, give me a break. Let's get back to the pudding."

Azrael took another drink of her macchiato, then sighed. "It's a ridiculous task, Josh."

"Think about what you're saying." Josh leaned forward, his words quiet but his dark eyes intent on his sister. "Are you really questioning his will?"

"Josh, where have you been?" Azrael replied, exasperated. "I've been questioning his will this whole time. Come on, don't tell me you didn't have doubts, back in the day. I was there in Gethsemane. I heard you. You asked him to spare you." She added, more quietly, "So did I, not that it mattered."

A flicker of something crossed Josh's expression, but his voice was patient as he replied, "I asked him to spare me if it was his will. His will, not mine, and consider what I was facing." Azrael dropped her gaze, and he added, "Questioning is one thing, but he gave you an order, and you haven't followed it. It's pudding. That's it. I don't understand why you're being so stubborn."

"I just don't see why he wants me to do this," Azrael replied. "I mean, pudding, Josh. And making it myself? Is there something wrong with the cups? I know Dan likes them."

"Too much high fructose corn syrup in those cups," Josh quipped. "Homemade is best."

Azrael fought to keep her expression blank, but the smile escaped her. "This is why he sent you instead of Michael," she accused. "He knew Michael would just go all more-dutiful-than-thou and annoy me. Not that you don't have an element of that, yourself, little brother," she added. "But at least you're entertaining about it."

"Also, Michael has been really distracted lately," Josh added, looking puzzled. "He keeps playing with this little plastic sword. No clue what's up with that, and when I asked him about it, he wouldn't answer."

"Huh," Azrael replied, sounding puzzled. "That's really weird. I mean, he's always been into weaponry, but not plastic."

Josh shrugged, dismissing the topic, then asked gently, "What's this really about, Rae? Why won't you just do as Dad asked?"

Azrael shook her head, her lips tightening a little. "I want to please him," she said, her voice just barely audible over the clamor of the coffee shop. "As long as it doesn't hurt anybody."

His manner pragmatic, Josh replied, "Pudding is hardly likely to bring harm to anyone, unless you spike it with something - which is definitely not part of Dad's plan, so please don't."

A flicker of impatience crossed Azrael's face. "I wouldn't poison Dan. I wouldn't cause harm to any of them."

"You've grown close to them," Josh ventured, with a smile. "It's different, living among them."

Azrael nodded, though she didn't return the smile. "It's like back in the beginning," she said slowly. "When there weren't so many of them. I knew all of them, back then." She took a gulp of her macchiato, then exhaled a soft sigh.

Josh watched her for a long moment. "You haven't really paid much attention to them as individuals in a while, have you? Not since -"

"No," Azrael interrupted, her voice thick with asperity. "I haven't. Until now. Fine. I'll do it, Josh. I'll make the stupid pudding. I'll take it to Dan. Today."

Josh's brows lifted in surprise at his sister's manner. "Rae, I didn't mean to -"

"I know," Azrael replied, with a tight smile. "I'm not angry with you, little brother. But now I need to get to the grocery store." Azrael swept out of Beelzebean, taking her book but leaving the half-full drink.

Josh looked after his sister with a sigh, then tipped his gaze upward. "Hope you're happy."


Azrael stalked into the apartment she shared with Ella, closing the door behind her with a little more force than was precisely necessary. She had just received a text from Ella: Labwork to do, probably home late. Of course. How convenient. For all that she knew her father didn't manipulate the humans, Azrael still found that suspect. No Ella, no distraction.

She put the grocery bags on the kitchen table with a thump and started to prepare her mise-en-place. "Cornstarch," she muttered, banging the box onto the counter. "Salt." Thunk. "Milk." Thud. "Eggs." All set to slam the carton of eggs onto the counter, she stopped just in the nick of time, preventing both a mess and another run to the grocery store.

"Okay, take a breath," Azrael instructed herself firmly. She knew that if she didn't focus, she'd likely end up ruining the pudding and have to start over. She reached for her phone and turned on a pick-me-up playlist.

"All right," she said briskly, turning back to her ingredients. "Let's do this."

By the time the pudding was nearly done, she was singing along with the bubblegum pop on her playlist and dancing as best she could while also stirring the pudding.

'Cause wings are made to fly
And we don't let nobody bring us down
No matter what you say it won't hurt me
Don't matter if I fall from the sky
These wings are made to fly

She was so involved on her singing and dancing (and, to a lesser degree, stirring) that she didn't notice Ella's arrival. Ella after a moment of watching, joined the dance party, happily dropping her work bag and bouncing over to grab Azrael's free hand, spinning the girl in place as the song came to an end.

Laughing, the tech said, "That was great."

"Sometimes I wonder if Dad controls Spotify," Azrael quipped. "But even I am not that paranoid."

Ella nodded, agreeing, "That seems kinda unlikely, yeah."

Turning off the heat under the pudding and moving it to an unheated burner, Azrael agreed deadpan, "Yeah, Dad can't even figure out his DVR." She let the silence hold a moment as Ella stared at her before winking and adding, "Thought you were working late."

With a sound somewhere between relief and amusement, Ella nodded. "Things came together faster than I thought they would." Surveying the kitchen, she asked, "But you're making more desserts, really?"

"Try it," Azrael suggested, taking up the spoon that she had discarded during the dancing and offering Ella a bite of the pudding. "And don't worry, it's a gift for someone else."

Ella tasted the pudding and then sighed happily. "Wow, that is amazing. Who's it for?"

Azrael pulled the pudding off the heat and dropped the spoon into the sink. "Dan."

"Aww, because Maze keeps messing with his pudding? That's so sweet."

"How do you know it's Maze?" Azrael queried, taking the pudding and straining it through a sieve. "I mean, besides the obvious: demon."

Ella grinned. "Saw her eating it in the break room. But, really, that's not so bad as far as evil deeds go."

Azrael nodded her agreement. "Yeah. She could do way worse." She hesitated, then said, "Dad told me to do this. I mean, not directly, but he made his intentions known."

"What, a burning bush in the shape of pudding?" Ella queried. "How would that even work?"

"The burning bush was Luci," Azrael said absently, with a quick grin for Ella's question. "No, he sent, um, emissaries." She pulled out the small basket and the ramekins she'd purchased, and began to portion out the pudding."

Ella regarded the angel thoughtfully, noting her vague answer. "One of them was your brother Michael." Azrael nodded, and Ella said, "It's not like you shouldn't say his name or anything. It's just…"

Azrael paused her work, the spoon resting in the pan. "I'm sorry about all that."

"You don't have to keep apologizing for how he was," Ella reassured. Seeing Azrael's look of uncertainty, Ella said, "If you stop saying you're sorry for your brother, I promise to stop talking about that super-cute picture of you and the sheep." Azrael made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan, and Ella added, "I'll even take down the copy someone posted on the bulletin board at the precinct."

Azrael stared at the tech in shock. "You're kidding."

"Yes," Ella agreed, laughing. "I'm kidding. Sorry, but the look on your face…"

"Okay, you're totally going to Hell for that," Azrael teased, her expression relieved, but Ella just laughed. Shaking her head, Azrael continued, "Because I wouldn't put it past Mazikeen to do something like that." She started dishing out the last of the pudding.

"Maze," Ella opined, "Would wallpaper the break room with the picture."

Azrael put the pan in the sink and eyed the tech. "No, she would… convince somebody else to do it, but please don't give her any ideas."

Ella sauntered over to the sink and grabbed both the pan and a clean spoon. "She comes up with enough of them on her own," Ella agreed, scooping up some of the leftover pudding.

"I can make you some more of that later," Azrael offered with a smile.

"Nah, I just want a little," Ella replied agreeably. "Thanks, though."

Azrael fitted the tops on the ramekins and loaded up her basket. Considering the butterscotch stains on her shirt, she said, "I'm going to get changed and run these over. Want me to pick up food on the way back?"

"That'd be awesome," Ella replied, with a smile. "Anything's good; surprise me."

Azrael nodded and, after grabbing fresh clothes, ducked into the bathroom. She returned, wearing her red dress, and scooped up her basket.

"Um, Rae?" The girl turned, and Ella shook her head, hiding a smile at the image Azrael made: girl in red dress with basket. "Never mind. Have fun. Don't get lost in the woods."

Azrael, puzzled, set off to make her delivery.


Azrael knocked briskly on the door to Dan's apartment. Trixie, she knew, was with Chloe, and so wouldn't be present for whatever was going to happen.

As she waited, it suddenly occurred to Azrael that Dan might be taking so long because he wasn't alone. "If Mom is in there with him, so help me," she whispered, just as the door rattled open.

Dan, his hair damp, looked understandably confused to see a girl with a basket on his doorstep, even if the girl was his daughter's friend. "Am I supposed to be the Big Bad Wolf?" he asked, with a smile. Azrael, after a moment of confusion, realized just how she looked, and suddenly Ella's final comment made sense. At least the red dress didn't have a hood.

"Sorry. Inadvertent fairy-tale reference." Azrael smiled. "I brought you a present." She attempted to peer past Dan, asking, "Is anybody else in there?"

"No," Dan replied, his tone bemused. "It's just me. Come on in, but you didn't need to bring me anything."

"Kinda did," Azrael replied under her breath, following Dan into the apartment. It was definitely a bachelor pad, with minimal furniture. Trixie had left a few touches, though: books on a table, a denim jacket hanging on a hook, and pictures on the refrigerator. Several featured Trixie and a be-winged Azrael, flying.

In one of them, Azrael's wings were pink.

Seeing her studying the pictures, Dan said, "That Christmas play really made an impression, I guess. She's been drawing pictures like that ever since."

"Yeah," Azrael replied vaguely, putting the basket on the small table. "It was, um, an experience." She slid the basket a little closer to Dan.

He opened it, still caught between amusement and confusion. "You really didn't have to - what is this?" He started pulling the ramekins out of the basket, giving Azrael a curious look.

"Pudding," Azrael explained. "It should still be warm."

Dan stared at her, perplexed. "Why would you bring me pudding?"

"God told me to," Azrael replied, not really caring if he believed her. "Via the Archangel Michael and Jesus."

"Very funny," Dan replied, shaking his head. "That's right, you were there when I talked to your brother about it." Azrael nodded, and Dan continued, "That's nice of you, but you really didn't have to. What kind is it?"

Azrael smiled. Of course he didn't believe her. "Butterscotch. Seriously, try it while it's still warm. That's when it's the best."

The last of the ramekins made a soft clattering noise as it slipped from Dan's suddenly loosened grip. "Butterscotch?" As Azrael nodded, he began, very carefully, to pry the lid off the small dish. He lifted the container to his nose and inhaled carefully, then rummaged in a drawer for a spoon. He took a hearty spoonful and tasted it, his eyes closing blissfully.

Azrael, a little uncomfortable with the depth of the man's apparent affection for his pudding, edged closer to the door. "What did I just do?" she whispered, with a quick, uncertain glance upward.

Dan opened his eyes. "How did you know?" he asked, with more intensity than Azrael really felt pudding warranted, even homemade. It wasn't like she'd made a croquembouche, after all.

"How did I know… what?" Azrael queried. Looking closer, she was shocked to see that Dan's eyes were glistening.

Dan gestured for Azrael to come closer, and she did, perching on one of the chairs. Dan sank into the other chair. "How did you know to bring me this pudding?" He took another spoonful, obviously savoring it, then said abruptly, "I… Sorry, this is rude. Would you like some?"

Azrael shook her head. "No, thanks. I tasted as I made it, and I've got kind of a sugar buzz. But if there's coffee, that'd be great." She carefully ignored the first question. She had, after all, already told him.

"You made this?" Dan repeated, looking perhaps a little relieved that he didn't have to share. "Where did you get the recipe?" Discombobulated by the pudding, he didn't even question the appropriateness of coffee, instead pouring it into a mug emblazoned with #1 Dad and putting it on the table before her.

Azrael smiled, murmuring her thanks for the coffee and taking a drink. "It's pudding. I mean, it's not too complicated."

"You don't understand," Dan said. He took another spoonful of pudding and studied it for a moment before eating it. He finished the bite and a soft sigh escaped him.

"You're right about that," Azrael agreed, eyeing him with amused puzzlement.

Dan sighed again in contentment. "I haven't had this since I was a kid. My dad used to make it for me. I'd come home from school and it would be waiting for me." He actually put down the food to explain to Azrael, his eyes warm with nostalgia, "He'd make it before he had to go off to work, and it was still warm like this when I got home. He seemed to know when I'd had a bad day, and it'd be waiting for me."

Flicking a glance at her mug, then the ceiling, Azrael murmured, "A little heavy-handed, isn't it?"

"What?" asked Dan, frowning in confusion.

"What?" echoed Azrael, all innocent puzzlement.

Dan shook his head, then said, "He died when I was about your age. I haven't tasted pudding like this since the week before it happened. It's… this is amazing; it's exactly like I remember."

Azrael blinked, then shot another look skyward. Dan, seeing the direction of her gaze, looked up as well, then eyed the girl in confusion. "Are you okay?"

Azrael nodded. "I'm fine," she replied. "Sorry about your dad. That's rough. Do you have a picture of him?"

Dan gave his pudding a brief, longing look, but did get up and disappeared down the hallway. He returned after a moment with a framed photograph of a much younger Dan, his hairstyle involving an overabundance of gel and truly unfortunate frosted tips, and a man who must be his father.

"Heart attack," Azrael murmured, studying the picture.

"What?" Dan stared at the girl, his eyes narrowing. "How did you know that's how he died?"

Azrael took a long drink of coffee and seriously considered spilling it on herself as a distraction. "Maybe Chloe mentioned it," she said finally.

Dan didn't look convinced. "How did you end up talking about my father with Chloe?"

"Well." Azrael put down the coffee cup, wishing that Dan's phone would ring to summon him to a homicide, that a fire alarm would sound, that the ceiling would collapse - well, maybe not that. "Fathers came up a while back. Chloe and I were talking about her dad; Trixie had gotten out a picture of them." She turned her gaze to the picture. "Trixie has that exact smile."

Dan looked at the picture as well, smiling. "Yeah," he agreed softly. "She really does."

Azrael nudged the ramekin closer to Dan and he took up the spoon again. He took another bite of the pudding before considering the girl, the suspicion returning to his expression. "I don't think -" he began, but he cut off his words as a knock sounded.

Azrael breathed a quiet prayer of thanksgiving as Dan got up to answer the door.

"Oh. Hi." Dan's voice sounded oddly strangled. "I'm a little, um."

"What, too busy for me, Daniel?" a familiar voice purred. "I doubt that."

Azrael looked sharply to the door, just in time to see her mother breeze past the detective.

"What could you possibly be… oh, hello, sweetheart. What are you doing here?" Charlotte seemed entirely unconcerned by her daughter's presence.

Dan, on the other hand, turned the most intriguing shade of red. "Your mom's here about… about a case," he said, clearly flustered.

"Oh, we all know that's not true," Charlotte said, with a low, rich chuckle.

Azrael couldn't quite see where Charlotte's hand was, but whatever she did made Dan jump away from her with a nervous laugh.

"Mom," Azrael reproved, hiding a smile. "I'm right here."

"Well, you might learn something, sweetheart," Charlotte replied, winking as Dan gaped at her. "But, really, why are you here?"

Dan, prudently putting the table between himself and the Goddess of All Creation, said, "God told her to bring me pudding."

Charlotte turned a sharp eye on her daughter. "Did he, now?"

Azrael shifted uncomfortably in her chair and took a diversionary sip of coffee. The collapsed ceiling was starting to sound good. "Michael said -" she began.

"Your brother was here?" Charlotte asked, her expression hopeful.

Azrael nodded as Dan watched the conversation in confusion. "Not here here, but he's been around a few times."

"Oh." Charlotte's expression went a little hurt. "And he knows that I'm here?"

Azrael sighed. "Mom, you know he's chosen his side."

There was an uncomfortable silence, then Dan cleared his throat, his gaze turning to Azrael. "I still would like to know how you knew about my dad."

"Well," Azrael said, getting to her feet. "Mom will tell you." She smiled, certain her mother would do no such thing. "Enjoy the pudding, Dan. And if you guys use it for, um, other purposes, please don't tell me… and be sure it cools enough, first."

As Dan stared at her, Azrael made a speedy retreat, closing the door firmly behind her. Her mother, she hoped, would provide ample distraction, even if she didn't want to think too hard about what form it would take.

She wasn't surprised when Michael fell into step with her outside the apartment building.

"Not yet," Michael said in answer to her unspoken question, looking a little frustrated. "Mom wasn't supposed to -" He sighed and didn't finish.

Azrael eyed him. "What, she interrupted?" Michael didn't answer, and Azrael suggested, all innocence, "Maybe you should go tell her."

That earned her a withering look from Michael. "I'm not stupid, little sister. I know what they're up to in there, and I'm certainly not going to interrupt."

A brief flicker of amused disappointment crossed Azrael's face before she regarded her brother in horrified fascination. "Do you know the specifics? No, don't tell me. I don't want to know. Let's move on to you telling me why you're here, so I can go eat something that's not sugar."

"Just wanted to express my gratitude that you finally did as you're told," Michael replied, though he sounded peevish, rather than grateful. "It would have been nice if it hadn't taken Yeshua coming down to motivate you." Nettled, Michael added, "I'm not more-dutiful-than-thou, and I'm not annoying."

Azrael sighed. "You heard that? Sorry." She didn't sound particularly contrite.

"I do pay attention," Michael replied, making a face at her tone.

Azrael nodded. "Because you want Dad's plan to succeed, whatever it is."

"Little sister," Michael said, not without a certain amount of condescension, "Does it ever occur to you that our father actually knows what he's doing? That he may have sent you down here to accomplish something good?"

Azrael walked in silence for a moment. "It's just that, where his kids are concerned, his track record isn't so hot. Besides, you don't know what he's intending, right?"

"Well, no," Michael admitted. He stopped walking and Azrael, after a moment, turned to face him. His expression serious, Michael said, "Look, when something happens later, do what feels right. Don't worry about repercussions." Seeing Azrael's wary expression, he added, "That's from our father."

"Well, that's not reassuring at all," Azrael said, a little sourly. Seeing that Michael looked unlikely to elaborate, she instead asked, "So what's the deal with the little plastic sword?"

Michael didn't reply, but one hand slipped into his pocket.

"Wait, your sword is small enough to keep in your pocket?" Azrael caught her own words, then bit back a laugh. "Be glad Luci wasn't around to hear that. I'm not going to continue that line of thought, though. I've had too many sexually charged conversations with family members today to go there."

Michael gaped at his sister. "Living here has changed you," he said firmly.

Azrael smiled. "You know, brother, I think you're right about that."

Michael said severely, "That wasn't a compliment."

Azrael didn't look concerned. "There's a time when I would have been upset by that, or worried. But today I'm just buzzed enough - on the pudding our father wanted me to make, so don't look at me like that - that I don't care. So why did Dad want me to make the pudding? So that I'd see Dan missing his father and get all nostalgic for mine? That sure didn't work."

"No," Michael said crisply. "That wasn't the point of all that, though it wouldn't exactly be a bad thing if you could summon a little filial piety for once."

"For once?" Azrael echoed, a note of amusement in her voice. "When have I been disrespectful to our father? And in case you've forgotten, we do have two parents. You're the one who flew off the handle at me for daring to suggest that you're like Mom."

"That's different," Michael replied stiffly.

"Really? How?" When Michael didn't answer, Azrael said, "That's what I thought. Look, not that I would wish you on her, but Mom would actually like to see you. I mean, probably not right at this precise moment, but she did seem to miss you, Dad knows why…"

Michael still didn't answer, though his gaze flicked toward the apartment building and he did look briefly contrite.

"So," Azrael said. "The little sword?"

"Ella gave it to me," Michael replied, pulling the small piece of plastic from his pocket and showing it to his sister. It was slightly bet from having been carried in a pocket.

"Oh." Azrael considered the sword, then offered, "It's nice. Very, um, pointy. And you're still carrying it around with you?"

"Obviously." Michael tucked away the sword, then asked, too casually, "How is she?"

Azrael shook her head. "You messed up when you spoke the way you did about Mazikeen - yes, I heard what happened," she added, noting Michael's startled look.

"But she's a demon," Michael protested.

With a sigh, Azrael explained patiently, "She's Ella's friend. And you're an archangel, but you still manage to drive me up the wall on the regular, so maybe knock off the stereotypes. It's not like we're all cast from the same mold, angels or demons. You can't paint us all with the same brush." As Michael drew a breath to argue, she cut off his words. "Look, brother, I'm hungry and this conversation isn't going to go well, especially with all these metaphors. If you want to try again when I've had a burger or something to counteract all this sugar, I'll think about it. Besides," she added, with a grin, "It's my turn to make a dramatic exit." And she darted behind a nearby building and took to the air, leaving Michael staring after her.


Much later, Dan, despite his vow to ration them, finished off his second pudding. He considered the hour and deemed it not too late, then sent off a text to Chloe. Can I come by? We need to talk about Lucifer's sister.