Nestor arches both eyebrows at the words of the Fallen Angel – he silently mouths what seems to be the word “Ahhh...”, then gives a quirk of his lips that – had it lingered for more than a split second – might very well have seemed mischievous; the whisper that slips up behind Gabe, however, is a sight less than mischievous. Provocative, in a way. The honey-laced tongue masking the icy sheen of its venom. 

“But you should know, shouldn't you – Radiant One – “ And at this the Demoness reveals herself – though perhaps she would have been visible to the angel all along; a dizzy haze of sparkling blue interlaced with a vibrant light. Now turned solid. Solid, and in a remarkably rare moment, quite human. The pale form of a tall woman – slender, face and figure shaped so finely as to seem more the work of some sculptor than any living being – yet when she moves, the motions flow easily around her, a few swift steps taking her to stand an almost uncomfortable distance from the Angel. Giving him a single, imperious glance – and for the moment elaborating no further on her words – the vivid blue of her eyes peer directly into his, a swirling kaleidoscope of fractured ice before – as though it were the most natural thing in the world – she sniffs deeply, wrinkles the tip of her nose and takes a single step back. “You should know how it was said “Wine to gladden hearts of men”; and unless I am mistaken, the Psalmist...”

I interrupt – something about her demeanour right then and there was disturbing me, and (Does it trouble you that much to Know, Nestor? That much! He is precisely as I thought; you know damn well you were thinking the same) and.. well, I decided not to play the idiot's game to her words: she and I both knew the unspoken answer to that. Rather, I just retort aloud: “The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. An evil soul producing holy witness: like a villain with a smiling cheek.” I grin broadly in her direction, right back at the spiteful stare as she screeches out – whining, almost... though the sound is closer to that of a caged tiger calling to its keepers for the evening meal – 

“That's Shakespeare, You Dunce...” She grits her teeth, holding stubbornly to her silence for a moment, whereupon I add cheekily – speaking in the direction of this Newcomer, Gabe:

“Then again, the Old Boy himself – who resisted the Devil's entirely sincere offer of every earthly pleasure ever imaginable – couldn't resist tapping into just enough of Daddy's power to ensure no one had to attend a wedding in a sober state of mind. So...” Here Nestor raises the glass once more, offering it for the final time before turning and moving toward the door.

 “Deus Vult! Or so say I. Fortunate, or unfortunate, I was headed for a breath of fresh air myself – the bosses... well, you can always expect them when least expected. Practically the living embodiment of non-hyperobolic 'Thieves in the Night'”; something about these last words makes Nestor snort back a bit of laughter. Then, taking up his cane at the door and resting it at a cocky slant over one shoulder, he steps from the room, arm in arm now with the demoness – the latter of whom turns one last time to give Gabe a winsome smile before vanishing from view.

I emerged onto the portico and allowed myself a good, stiff lungful of rainy London air. I wasn't sure what had led me outside to begin with – perhaps the overwhelming feeling of simply being stuffed inside the great hall, and the equally uncomfortable feeling at the thought of going back to my room. Or maybe it was simply the pervading gloom that had been working its way on me all this time – always hard to say... so many strange and oftentimes disturbing memories wrapped up into this place. Difficult at such a time to separate premonitions of the future from ruminations on the past. And so I would simply do what I always did at such moments – would stand, and stare at the stars, and smoke. And she... she decided to perch herself on the balustrade, back resting against a stone pillar, right hand resting upon one knee.