When the Archangel Gabriel is staring at something like it might eat his face, then you know you're in trouble.
He grabs Murphy's shoulders without a word and brings them back down to the middle of the theater, the effort of that many rapidfire teleports taking enough out of them that they both wind up sprawled in the aisle, tangled up in each other.
"Okay, new plan," he says with a groan, trying to clamber to his feet before that thing figures out where they are and comes after them again. "What the hell kills those things? Silver? Iron? A well choreographed production number? A hooker with a heart of gold? Name it."
The fact that he can't get a read off of it, but it can get a read off him is bugging him more than he'll admit.
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When the Archangel Gabriel is staring at something like it might eat his face, then you know you're in trouble.
He grabs Murphy's shoulders without a word and brings them back down to the middle of the theater, the effort of that many rapidfire teleports taking enough out of them that they both wind up sprawled in the aisle, tangled up in each other.
"Okay, new plan," he says with a groan, trying to clamber to his feet before that thing figures out where they are and comes after them again. "What the hell kills those things? Silver? Iron? A well choreographed production number? A hooker with a heart of gold? Name it."
The fact that he can't get a read off of it, but it can get a read off him is bugging him more than he'll admit.