Sin still recalled the last time he contacted an agent of Heaven, years prior when he was begging them to accept Augustine back within their ranks, on his knees (both literally and metaphorically) as he made wild deals to secure his now-dead lover?s future. It was bitter sweet, as were most of his conversations with angelic hosts; he had no love for them, and in most cases, the sentiment was just as easily returned. However, there were some curious exceptions to that rule.
It took Sinjin the better part of the day to find Tuesday, since his circuits often changed on a whim. When he did find him, it was on the corner of a worn bench, the perfect picture of an odd homeless man with a scraggly beard and an old hat, bare fingers carefully folding an old gum wrapper into what Sin guessed was an origami swan. Even though God had allowed Tuesday back into the pearly gates again, the angel never really had found his sanity ? if he ever had any.
?Hello, Tuesday,? Sinjin greeted, plopping down on the bench beside him. ?I don?t suppose you could do me a favor, could you?? He asked, voice gentle; the Spaniard was secretly fond of Tuesday, though he barely saw the angel since his return to working for the heavenly host.
?Hmm?? Tuesday blinked as if startled out of a trance, nearly crushing the delicate figure between his fingers in the process. He frowned, bouncing it between his fingers to make sure he hadn?t caused any damage. ?If it?s about Augustine,? Tuesday murmured, his words holding a docile air that the Spaniard found soothing, ?I promised not to say, Mister Fai.?
?No, no ? I trust Augustine is where he wants to be.? He hoped. It caused a momentary frown to curl across his mouth before his thoughts diverted back to their original course again. ?Tuesday, I need help ? there?s a fallen here who wants to cut her ties with the Host and I?m not sure which route to take.?
Tuesday looked up, his brown eyes gone wide and alarmed like a dove whose roost had just been startled. For a moment Sin wondered if Tuesday would be any help at all while the angel turned away again, loosing his tiny creation in the breeze and letting it carry the origami bird away. ?You should speak with Nemamiah and Haamiah. I don?t know if they?ll help you, Mister Fai.? He sounded sad, but Sinjin couldn?t tell over what. ?But if you mean it, you should try.?
?Nemamiah and Haamiah,? he repeated, placing the names to memory while he watched Tuesday?s little bird bounce across the snow on the wind. ?Where can I find them?? Sin asked, turning back to observe Tuesday again.
?They don?t come to Rhy?din or Earth very often,? the angel confessed, fidgeting with his coat uncomfortably. ?But sometimes, when they?re here, they go to the old law firm on Fifth Street ? the one that John burned.? Tuesday shifted restlessly again before he blinked up at Sinjin. ?I can.. see if they?ll meet with you? They?re old friends.?
The Spaniard smiled brilliantly. ?Tuesday, you?re a saint. I owe you one ? anything, I promise.?
The angel?s expression turned hopeful. ?.. maybe some nice paper?? Tuesday asked plaintively. ?Blue? Sky blue??
?Any blue you want,? Sin agreed with a laugh, rising. ?I?ll come find you next Tuesday ? okay? Thank you.? And with a brief touch to the angel?s shoulder, Sinjin was drifting from the bench, following the path Tuesday?s origami bird left for him.
It took Sinjin the better part of the day to find Tuesday, since his circuits often changed on a whim. When he did find him, it was on the corner of a worn bench, the perfect picture of an odd homeless man with a scraggly beard and an old hat, bare fingers carefully folding an old gum wrapper into what Sin guessed was an origami swan. Even though God had allowed Tuesday back into the pearly gates again, the angel never really had found his sanity ? if he ever had any.
?Hello, Tuesday,? Sinjin greeted, plopping down on the bench beside him. ?I don?t suppose you could do me a favor, could you?? He asked, voice gentle; the Spaniard was secretly fond of Tuesday, though he barely saw the angel since his return to working for the heavenly host.
?Hmm?? Tuesday blinked as if startled out of a trance, nearly crushing the delicate figure between his fingers in the process. He frowned, bouncing it between his fingers to make sure he hadn?t caused any damage. ?If it?s about Augustine,? Tuesday murmured, his words holding a docile air that the Spaniard found soothing, ?I promised not to say, Mister Fai.?
?No, no ? I trust Augustine is where he wants to be.? He hoped. It caused a momentary frown to curl across his mouth before his thoughts diverted back to their original course again. ?Tuesday, I need help ? there?s a fallen here who wants to cut her ties with the Host and I?m not sure which route to take.?
Tuesday looked up, his brown eyes gone wide and alarmed like a dove whose roost had just been startled. For a moment Sin wondered if Tuesday would be any help at all while the angel turned away again, loosing his tiny creation in the breeze and letting it carry the origami bird away. ?You should speak with Nemamiah and Haamiah. I don?t know if they?ll help you, Mister Fai.? He sounded sad, but Sinjin couldn?t tell over what. ?But if you mean it, you should try.?
?Nemamiah and Haamiah,? he repeated, placing the names to memory while he watched Tuesday?s little bird bounce across the snow on the wind. ?Where can I find them?? Sin asked, turning back to observe Tuesday again.
?They don?t come to Rhy?din or Earth very often,? the angel confessed, fidgeting with his coat uncomfortably. ?But sometimes, when they?re here, they go to the old law firm on Fifth Street ? the one that John burned.? Tuesday shifted restlessly again before he blinked up at Sinjin. ?I can.. see if they?ll meet with you? They?re old friends.?
The Spaniard smiled brilliantly. ?Tuesday, you?re a saint. I owe you one ? anything, I promise.?
The angel?s expression turned hopeful. ?.. maybe some nice paper?? Tuesday asked plaintively. ?Blue? Sky blue??
?Any blue you want,? Sin agreed with a laugh, rising. ?I?ll come find you next Tuesday ? okay? Thank you.? And with a brief touch to the angel?s shoulder, Sinjin was drifting from the bench, following the path Tuesday?s origami bird left for him.