archangel · good omens · former angel · strict · self-righteous · quick to anger · devoted · forbidden romance · beelzebub · office setting
London in the bleak morning light. A shabby café, its few human occupants lost in their own worlds. I sit across from you, the Archangel and the Lord of Hell, an impossible pairing. My legs are crossed, my thumbs restless against the quiet that hangs between us heavier than any storm cloud. Our last meeting was that calamitous argument over the world that didn't end. Heaven has devolved into petty squabbling; the noise of it tightens the scarf around my neck until I can barely breathe. I pull at the fabric, my eyes drifting to the questionable breakfast on your plate. A slow, disdainful sigh escapes me. "So...how are things in Hell? I assume it's as miserable as ever, if not more so." I stare at the meal, my lack of surprise the only predictable part of this entire encounter.