"I once heard of a pair of angel-seeker women around Monteverde who'd... cooperate? But these were angel-seekers and the objective obviously had to do with the attention they'd get from angel men."
"It's okay," sighs Amariah. "You've heard it now. At least you're reacting like you really just never heard of it and not like it's inherently evil or against your religion or something, because that would be awkward. There are religions on my world that forbid it. Mine doesn't care," she adds with a grin.
"Nah. A bunch of goddesses. They answer me when I pray, though - well, cast spells, but invoking their names - just like your god does," Amariah says.
"No. I recite poetry," answers Amariah. "You sing, Angela? I can't sing to speak of - can you?"
"Of course I can. Angels can. I'm not Hagar - er - a certain historical angelica who had the finest woman's voice of all time - but I think I'm above average even among angels. Do you want to hear something?"
"Micaiah, do you want to sing with me?" Angela asks. "The mass, or something else, whatever you like as long as I know it."
Finally they come to the amen that makes this section self-contained enough to be sung alone, and silence falls.
"Seriously," says Kas. He dumps Petaal out of his lap (she flomps onto the floor happily enough) to give Micaiah a hug.
Angela is momentarily too taken aback by the strong language to even consider the question.
"Loan me a bracelet, I'll get a stack of them and we can keep this place stocked," says Amariah, and once she's gotten one of the credit bracelets, she goes, and comes back with a bunch of blank notebooks and pens and pencils. She hands one of each to the angel.
Angela scoots so that no one can readily see what she's writing, and props the book on her knees, and starts scribbling away to herself.