Everyone in heaven’s courtroom has broken into song and they were singing if it was possible for a soul in hell to be redeemed.

You heard Lute start singing.

Lute: “What are we even talkin’ about?”

You listened for a while, although you needed Emily’s attention. Saint Peter needed her.

Lute: “Some crack-whore who fucked up already?”

Lute: “He blew his shot like the cocks in his—“

Lute paused and narrowed her eyes when you barged into the courtroom.