She crouches next to him, worry on her face. "Gabriel."

Murphy glances over her shoulder as the creature gives a bellow of irritation and starts tearing the floor of the theatre apart. She knows what it looks like when someone's on his last legs. Murphy presses a hand to the angel's neck to check his pulse without really thinking that his pulse might not be, you know, anywhere near a human equivalent. Either way, it's quick and thready under her fingers. "You're overreaching."

She brushes a hand through his hair. "I'm not the only one who doesn't get to die today, mister."