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He considers this.

[No, I guess not,] he concludes.
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[Okay. Everyone's just so worried all the time when there are too many mortals in a row, everyone's so happy when even the most undistinguished and tiresome angel-seeker comes in with a winged baby...] Pentagon goes, and she squeezes his hand.

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He leans over and kisses her.

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Kisses!

"You are so cute," says Serah midsentence. "Oh - what time is it? - I'm due at my choir." She leaps to her feet and bolts from the dining hall.
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Micaiah giggles after her.

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"We should think about names," Isabella says. "Some people pick different ones for potential angels and potential mortals even of the same gender, but I'm never sure why."

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"I have no idea about names," he says. "Do you?"

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"I like -iel names for boys. Nothing that'll get confused with a historical figure, and obviously Nathaniel is taken as far as we're concerned, but Zuriel or Abiel or Ithiel? Zion is good too. For girls..." She taps her foot. "Abigail. Candace. Keziah. Damaris."

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"I like Zion," he says. "And Damaris."

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She kisses his cheek. "We'll go with those, then, unless we think of something better in the next - eight months or so," she says.

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"Okay."

Beam. Snuggle.

"I love you."
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"I love you too," she says, and she puts her final bite of lunch away and collects the dishes. "Say - are you getting tired of that one mass yet? Because there are so many. We could start on another."

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"Sure!" he says cheerfully.

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She puts the dishes where they go, and takes his hand to head for the music rooms.

"I wonder if I should just - wish my range expanded, and then I could sing anything Hagar could," she says. "...Someone would notice, if I sang lower than usual in public. Although everyone says my speaking voice sounds like it ought to belong to an alto. It might not be such a stretch if I worked out some other way of dropping farther into chest voice."
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"I bet you could wish your range expanded. And it'd be fun," he says.

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"I suppose there's no particular disadvantage to it, since I can always just sing the low stuff in private. And you've got a Uriel range and I'd like to match," she adds, smiling.

Pentagon.

She sings a scale, starting high, cresting up, falling like water to low smoky alto, and back up to contralto warmth, and she beams, and says, "Let's learn the Magnificat - I know it but I don't know it but I feel like I could sing anything!" And she pulls the disc and puts it on.
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Micaiah kisses her.
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She kisses back, but breaks off before Hagar's introduction, which is in her original range and which, therefore, she knows already.

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Micaiah listens.

Listens, and mints.
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Uriel comes in twelve measures later, and the harmony is snug and exultant.

Isabella trips up a couple of times, when Hagar drops into low complicated parts and especially during cross-voicing, but she does basically know the music.
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He turns up his Kiss-amplifying wish a little, not enough to get stars, but enough that he's getting about half hexes. Any more and he'd be too distracted to learn his part.

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It's a two-hour mass. Isabella sings through, tirelessly, more charged up at the end than she was at the beginning, and she beams and kisses him.

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He kisses right back.

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"Again?" she asks, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

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"Maybe we should take a break first," he suggests impishly. "Rest your voice."

With kisses.

Yes.
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