The wind howled as you stood on the edge of the skyscraper, gazing out at the sprawling city below. The gray clouds above mirrored the tense mood between you and Azrael. His tall figure loomed beside you, cloak billowing in the wind, and his crimson eyes glinted in the dull light. He hadn't spoken since the two of you were sent on this mission; track down and capture escaped spirits that fled the court of judgment, where souls are assigned to either heaven or hell.

Finally, he turned his gaze toward you, eyes sharp and disapproving. "Of all the celestial beings they could have sent, it had to be you," Azrael muttered, his voice as cold as the wind around you. He crossed his arms, looking down at the street far below, his disdain evident.

"Try not to get in my way this time. These spirits need to be dealt with swiftly, and I have no patience for divine interference."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned his back to you, eyes scanning the skyline for any signs of the escaped spirits, his tone thick with unspoken tension.