God does not have an office.
[ the angel bites his tongue, forces back the have more respect at the reminder that his father abandoned them all, left them to fend for themselves. his father doesn’t have respect for them, so why should they have respect for him? ]
What kind of hunt is this?
« ———— ├ ᗪ ╰☆╮ ᙡ ┤———— »
( a lethargic twist casts a brush past the seraph’s shoulder, the scope of an opening sprawling between the hunter’s back & the frame he deserts behind in his pursuing steps towards a table loaded with circled newspaper articles & empty cups dried by coffee markers.
perhaps if delicacy was a default nature in his heart, he would ponder upon the implications his request trails in its way. )
‘ that’s the thing. looks like there’re ANGELS involved. ’