"I'm not as set as Elisha makes me out to be," demurs Isabella. "But I think I'd be a good Archangel, and I think the job wouldn't make me tear my hair out like it would if someone handed Elisha - for example - all that responsibility, and while I think Linus is doing a perfectly competent job, I do have some ideas."
Their snack platter has been demolished. Isabella picks up the dish and returns it, thanking the employee who takes it from her, and rejoins Micaiah. "Shall we? I can take off from out there." She gestures to where the harmonics are being sung - currently a trio of women, two mortals and one angel, all older.
"Let me know if I go too high and you're cold or have trouble breathing," she says above the wind as she gets up to speed.
(She has the data to guess, but not the perversity.)
"Is it still hurting you?" she asks, uncertain of whether that would be desirable or not.
"Okay. I wonder if that's why yours hurts and mine doesn't. I wouldn't like it," Bella muses. "But I think it's fairly typical for them to hurt, and I don't think everyone likes it... perhaps it's also got to do with how hard Jovah has to work to get the person's attention," she concludes.
"...Do... you want... to talk about that?" asks Isabella uncertainly.
"Well, I don't know, but I try to be a good listener, and that doesn't mean only hearing things that would happen to amuse me."
Isabella notes the impulse she has to say, "For eating?" and puts it aside. "That sounds very freeing," she replies instead.
"I like the holds. I don't think I would have been half so happy anywhere else. I don't exactly go wherever I want - I go where I'm needed, where I can be useful - but wherever I go I'm accomplishing something. Even if it's a political goal, attending someone's party, instead of fixing a drought, although I much prefer the latter."