[The feed clicks on clumsily, jumbled and clearly in the hands of someone who doesn’t know how it works. After a few seconds it comes to rest in midair pointed at a stern-faced woman in a distressingly stylish pantsuit. There’s little expression on her face but cold harshness, the kind of severe near-blankness of cold fury. Only three people in the
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FUCK.
HIS.
LIFE.
SIDEWAYS.]
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[It's that speechlessness that gives him courage... That and he always found time to treat Raphael like the older brother he picked on as obnoxious little brothers are wont to do. It makes him bolder, even though this is not Raphael who could brush off being left in Judea with ruffled feathers and little else.]
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[Pause.]
You're safe, for the time being. What's your name?
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You're an angel.
[Your mind reading voodoo trick does not impress her, get out. 8|]
Which one?
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I'm the archangel Raphael.
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Why? Because nobody has yet escaped? Please.
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Or sister.
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You must admit I have reason to be wary. [Look what it did to you.]
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And Michael is here. Cause for celebration.
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[Have you ever seen Raphael perk up? You have now. It's a small motion, undetectable to someone who doesn't know her truly well.]
You're both here? [There's a question attached to it, unspoken. You're both here. Why is the world still standing?]
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Spike, some people grasp the concept of being proactive.
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