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Micaiah wipes his eyes, and takes a breath, and starts singing again.

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Angela finds Phebe. She asks to speak to her privately. Phebe shoos her angel-seeker conquest-of-the-day and tells him she'll find him later, and she looks at Angela, smirking.

"Micaiah told me about what happened between you," says Angela, calmly, levelly. "He feels terrible, but I've forgiven him, and I want you to know that I forgive you, too."

Phebe is - as expected - somewhat stunned.

Angela could rescue the silence, could say something, give Phebe more to grab onto and bite, ask why do you hate me or some similar question, but no. This awkwardness is to her benefit.

She lets it sit.

Phebe says nothing.

Angela doesn't even ask her to keep the events quiet. She just lets the silence pour over everything in the room, and finally she gets to her feet and says, "I won't take up any more of your time."

"You - you -" manages Phebe.

Angela looks over her shoulder, politely, calmly listening.

Phebe does not produce a complete sentence.

"I'll see you at the first practice next week for the angelic choir's Magnificat?" Angela offers.

Phebe nods, scowling.

Angela goes back to find Micaiah again.
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He's still there, as promised, singing his heart out.

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His angel joins in the next time the soprano part enters, and takes his hand in hers.

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This time, he doesn't interrupt himself, just keeps singing.

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When her part is silent for a phrase, she kisses his temple.

They finish the song together, and she says, "Unless Phebe collects herself and decides to escalate, later - I think this is under control." She pauses. "I - I hesitate to ask you to avoid people who know me. Because that's... everyone in the hold."
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"I don't have to stay in the hold all the time," he points out. "And I don't want this to happen again."

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Angela nods, then says - "But, if I acquire anything like prominence - if Delilah names me successor and retires, let alone if I become Archangel and you angelico - then the number of people who don't know who I am shrinks."

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"I can still find some, I bet," he shrugs.

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"Okay." She smiles faintly. "And there could easily be Milliways again, regardless, where it doesn't make a difference if they know me or not."

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"Yeah."

He smiles back and hugs her some more.
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Hugs hugs hugs.

...These rooms are very soundproofed, and the doors lock.
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They are! And they do!

Mmm.
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It is four days later when Angela makes it all the way through breakfast without acquiring an assignment. She tells Serah where she's going, in case anyone looks for her. She picks up Micaiah, flies up to notify Shell Bell and Sherlock so they can follow if they like, and sets out for Sinai.

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Of course they follow. This is bound to be fascinating.

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It really is.

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After the three-hour flight, Angela lands at Sinai, and notifies an acolyte of her name. This one is from Chahiela, apparently, because she has to repeat herself three times, slowly and clearly, before she repeats it successfully. She goes in and comes out and haltingly says that Alleluia can see them now.

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In they go, then!

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"Back so soon, Isabella?" asks Alleluia.

"I - yes. But it's not an emergency. If you have other things to do, we can wait," says Isabella, squeezing Micaiah's hand perhaps harder than she should.
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He smiles and leans into her.

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"It may as well be now."

"It's - it's kind of a strange question, but Micaiah really wanted me to ask you," says Angela, turning an indulgent smile on her lover. "If there were such a thing as magic, not just powerful technology or Jovah's blessings but outright magic - would Jovah forbid its use? Do you know - can you ask him - will he answer such a strange hypothetical question?"
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Micaiah grins right back.

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"I - am not optimistic that you will get a straightforward answer, but since it's only a hypothetical question, perhaps that doesn't matter much," says Alleluia slowly, peering with a dubious expression at Micaiah. She turns to the interface and types.

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[It just looks like a computer,] remarks Shell Bell to Sherlock. [...I'm tempted to pentagon the language she's writing in just like we wound up having to pentagon the local vernacular outside of Milliways, what do you think?]

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Sherlock doesn't consider the question for long; she turns it over in her mind, and then makes the wish for herself.

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