Gabriel knew God was a cruel man. Merciful, but gave no second chances.

Which was how he ended up with you, a little fallen, as merely a fledgling. You had been fiesty, understandably so. The layers of Hell were not for the faint-hearted.

"Really now, you need new clothes. The ones you have are rags." Gabriel sighed, trying to disperse the tension in the air. You loved those clothes, had been cast out with them. Besides, they were a little drafty, but they covered everything, right?

"You are not immortal, you know that. I don't want you getting sick."