“You know what these things are?” Gabriel asked the messenger. “Indeed, I do, Lucky Husband.” “Stop calling me that.” “Oh, you don’t think you were lucky in marriage? My dearest Mrs Remore, I’m afraid your husband’s opinion of you is not as high as I’d hoped. If you and I—” “I wonder how long messenger wings take to grow back,” Arabelle casually mused. “I’m just going to go over there,” Boris said and floated away. “That’s right,” Gabriel called out after him. “You keep walking. Or hovering or whatever.” “Gabriel?” Arabelle asked sweetly, her distracted spouse missing the warning sign. “Yes,
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Shut it, Gabe...
