"I was having a blast up until now," Gabe muttered, but wasn't able to say much else. The journey felt slow, confined, and did nothing to help Gabe's head, especially when the idiot Texan tried to keep going until he passed out. For a few seconds Gabriel didn't say or move either; he just lay there, his own breathing controlled and swallowing convulsively against the sick feeling that radiated from inside out.
After those moments he picked up the conversation as if it had never been halted, with a very pointed snort. "I know I ain't got anythin' to worry about, Billy-Ray. Shockingly, you're still underwhelmin' me."
Of course, that might not be as irritating a jibe as it had been previously, given Sanguine now believed Gabe had come from a universe ruled by the Faceless Ones. Still, it was a jibe, and it was the best Gabe could think up right now. He wanted out. He wanted out badly enough to be tempted to ease Sanguine's pain, except that that would have drawn questions and broken his promise both.
So the Archangel took one especially deep breath and reached inside him for all the grace and patience his Lord had given him to wait until the Texan had rested.
~~~
"He's an angel," Solomon pointed out more calmly than he probably should have been able to. "I rather doubt he needs shoes. He looked, actually, like a young and very casual university student." The sorcerer frowned. "With curls. Maybe an exchange student, from the Middle-East. If it weren't for the fact he was pretending to be a cowboy."
The cowboy part made Solomon want to laugh for two very different reasons: one, because it was rather amusing when you considered what the Bible said; two, because he was still feeling somewhat fragile and laughing was better than dissolving into a shaking mess.
"For the record," he added, glancing at the priest, "this is exceptional even by our standards. Particularly the part about an angel calling on you in person because you asked for help."
He still couldn't quite believe that had worked. Surely it wasn't for him. Surely it was because O'Reilly had asked for guidance, because it was O'Reilly who had been speaking. Not Solomon. Not because Solomon felt guilty, precisely, it was just that ... their philosophies didn't work. Ex-philosophy, in his case.
It being an ex-philosophy didn't change what he had done and planned to do, and that they were, in the eyes of the Lord, evil. Solomon may not have feared death as much as he once did, but he held no illusions about his chances for forgiveness.
no subject
After those moments he picked up the conversation as if it had never been halted, with a very pointed snort. "I know I ain't got anythin' to worry about, Billy-Ray. Shockingly, you're still underwhelmin' me."
Of course, that might not be as irritating a jibe as it had been previously, given Sanguine now believed Gabe had come from a universe ruled by the Faceless Ones. Still, it was a jibe, and it was the best Gabe could think up right now. He wanted out. He wanted out badly enough to be tempted to ease Sanguine's pain, except that that would have drawn questions and broken his promise both.
So the Archangel took one especially deep breath and reached inside him for all the grace and patience his Lord had given him to wait until the Texan had rested.
~~~
"He's an angel," Solomon pointed out more calmly than he probably should have been able to. "I rather doubt he needs shoes. He looked, actually, like a young and very casual university student." The sorcerer frowned. "With curls. Maybe an exchange student, from the Middle-East. If it weren't for the fact he was pretending to be a cowboy."
The cowboy part made Solomon want to laugh for two very different reasons: one, because it was rather amusing when you considered what the Bible said; two, because he was still feeling somewhat fragile and laughing was better than dissolving into a shaking mess.
"For the record," he added, glancing at the priest, "this is exceptional even by our standards. Particularly the part about an angel calling on you in person because you asked for help."
He still couldn't quite believe that had worked. Surely it wasn't for him. Surely it was because O'Reilly had asked for guidance, because it was O'Reilly who had been speaking. Not Solomon. Not because Solomon felt guilty, precisely, it was just that ... their philosophies didn't work. Ex-philosophy, in his case.
It being an ex-philosophy didn't change what he had done and planned to do, and that they were, in the eyes of the Lord, evil. Solomon may not have feared death as much as he once did, but he held no illusions about his chances for forgiveness.