Richard was kind enough to lead him to the Catholic Section. About half-way there, bored by the sound of soft footsteps, the cherub tried to strike up conversation: "So, what was your last job?"
Arathiel started at the question and nearly dropped his box; Richard's odd, lumbering gait was soothing. "I... uh, was an Angel."
There was a bovine snort. "No kidding?"
"Bottom-tier Angel, assigned as Guardian to the weirdest person..."
"Weirdest?"
"She knew what I was, yet refused to refer to me as an angel. Instead, she perferred to call me 'Master of the Head' or 'My prince'."
"Huh."
"I asked her about it once. She told me that only Fluffies and New Agers culled upon Angels and that she was neither." Arathiel shook his head, hair falling naturally into one eye.

***
Ever have an idea that wouldn't leave you alone? Arathiel is one of those. O^; I didn't plan on doing another thingy...
*cough*
Um, we have Arathiel in different moments during his previous task of Guardian Angel for a human female. I really don't know what's happening in each... except for at the bottom, Arathiel is blessing whatever the heck she's doing... and that stained glass window is an embarassing mix of styles. O_;