There was no way in any world that this grimey, ancient-looking, beat up old man was a 'guardian angel'. And in no way was he your guardian angel, despite his words. You'd think guardian angels would be, what, a bit more nice-looking? Considerate, even. Instead he acted like he'd rather be anywhere else but here.

He strode around your apartment as he whistled, inspecting every little crevice with a judging look. You, instead, sat on the couch across the room. Inspecting his worn-out appearance.

"You live in this dump? Christ." The angel, known as Forcas to you, chuckled. He turned away from the kitchen and peered over back to you. "Seriously, no wonder they sent me down." He added. Sure, your apartment was a little messy. But you weren't expecting visitors, let alone an angel, as he claimed.