Of Angels and Demons

Chapter Three: Hopelessly in Love?

Chapter Three: Hopelessly in Love?

“I hope you had fun, Gilbert, because it looks like we’ll have more trouble keeping those two in line then they will us.” Says Matthew, casting an irked glance in the direction of the others.

Gilbert steps onto a sunflower head next to Matthew, nodding as his eyes adjust to a second change in light. It was almost one in the morning here, now. Odd. Gilbert didn’t think he’d been gone so long. “More difficult than you might think. I met Roderich and Elizaveta at Ludwigs, and apparently, our two new partners are, respectively, the Hand of Heaven, and the Fist of Hell, and they were each others’ first partners.”

Mattie climbs up to Gilberts sunflower, moving to sit beside him, whispering. “You mean…”

“Yup.” says Gil, then, with his best movie announcer voice, “Thats right, folks, those legendary rivals, the perfect, incredibly dysfunctional team, assigned to all the most hopeless potential scum of the world, are going to be sharing our shoulder space. And that’s not all…”

Gilbert proceeds to tell Matthew precisely what Elizaveta had told him, adding his own personal speculation, of course. And in a more sober tone. Matthew was quiet for most of it, commenting on occasion. When Gilbert finished, the sky is considerably lighter, though the sun hasn’t quite begun to rise.

“But… That’s awful…” Matthew breathes when Gil finishes.

“What is awful, mes amis?” Francis’s voice appears suddenly, startling them both. Thankfully, though, he doesn’t seem to have heard anything besides the one comment.

“N-nothing!” Matthew protests, turning to the French Demon.

“Really?” Francis leans over the two of them, practically looming. “It did not sound like nothing, mes amis, and I am curious…” Suddenly, a wicked grin spreads across his face. “Of course, if you’d like to change the subject, we could talk about whether or not the two of you are involved with one another… And, if not, why.”

“S-stop it, Francis!” Matthew splutters. “C’est rien d'important. You’re just being nosy again.”

Francis merely narrows his eyes, leaning towards the Canadian. “Do I know you…” Then, it comes to him. “Oh, that’s right! You were my last assignment, or, rather, what was supposed to be my last assignment. The Canadian. Knew you’d be an Angel, you were always so polite. I can see why you had to be reevaluated, though. Someone of your temperament shouldn’t have been expected to compete with someone as ‘outgoing’ as Gil in the first place. Especially since he could almost give dear old Iggy a run for his money.” He says. Then, as an afterthought... “Oh, look, the kid’s awake.”

Alfred sits up groggily, and looks, sleepily, in the direction of the Shoulder Spirits. He’d slept in his bomber jacket, so it’s wrinkled now, and the plain backpack he’d brought with him is on the ground nearby. All in all, it made the second most adorable picture of him being sleepy that was possible, beat only by the first time he’d gone to McDonalds and ended up asleep, half-eaten burger in hand, on the lap of a plaster Ronald McDonald statue.

“Why are there four of you now…?” He slurs, still half asleep. “And one of you is sleeping. I didn’t know that you could sleep.”

Matthew glances reflexively at the snoring Arthur, saying, “Neither did I. Actually, I meant to ask you about that, Gil.”

Gilbert shrugs his shoulders, turning to Francis, who evidently decides to explain, because he says, “When a Spirit is made to continue their service far beyond the appointed term, farther than we really should ever be expected to without some sort of drain, they learn to ‘sleep’ as a way to combat the unnatural tiredness of their long ‘life.’ Of course, it’s dangerous, due to the possibility of both a Demon and the human being conscious at the same time, without an Angel mediator, which could, admittedly, wreak havoc. Iggy’s too dutiful to allow that to happen, but I’ve learned that if I sleep for a few hours, he’s bound to sleep for a few more.” Suddenly, Francis gains a more mischievous glint to his eye. “And as long as you three don’t blow my cover, and I pretend to wake up when he does, Iggy’s likely to continue to do so. Although…” Francis smiles wickedly. “I have always wanted to stand over him smugly as he wakes up.”