And so the shortest archangel fell out of another rift in reality, surprising everyone, including himself. Looking around, it was entirely too obvious he had landed in comtemporary America, in a disgusting gas station bathroom. Studying himself in the dusty mirror, he noticed a cut on his lip and a ring of bruises on his neck, near his shirt collar. Feeling a twinge, he looked down to find his left knee scraped and bleeding through ripped denim Ripping the confederate flag off the wall with a roll of his tired, bloodshot eyes, Gabriel kicked the door open, off its hinges, and into the parking lot. No matter how long it had been, he was just about fucking done with today.
Stalking out into the evening, he muttered, “Daddamn Outsiders always think they’re so clever. Ia ia, Cthulhu, I got the last laugh… you lily livered fuckstick.” and kicked a rock.
She was just filling up, halfway through the return trip to New York. Tony had offered to fly her down, private jet, all the trimmings, but she’d put him off — she wanted to drive. It had been a nice trip, visiting with her extended family.
And then the door to the restroom exploded off its hinges and an extremely familiar voice swore quite a bit. The rock went past her nose.
“You know,” Summer said, a little acidly, leaning casually on the rear of her car, “I thought the ‘do not fear’ was supposed to be because you were so overwhelming to look at — not because of flynig bits of scenery.”