If the sudden shift in atmosphere, as transient as it had been, was noticed not a comment was made in regards, the brief animosity sliding off like water off a duck’s back. Ever impervious, was she. She was helpless at holding back the excitement that burst forth like a broken dam though, gushing outwards at the similarity that’d been deciphered in the midst of all that philosophical jumble that’d taken an unanticipated religious turn.
“Aiyah! You’re just like Jun-chan! You’re the big guns that get called in when nobody else is up to snuff. But Jun-chan is more like a demon than an angel, heehee.” She snickered mischievously, surreptitiously focusing on only specific keywords rather than the overall depth of the man’s response. It was all a matter of personal interest, really. “Ehehe. I’ve done my time too. Put on a hard cap and went to work. Solving mysteries in a jiffy is a piece of cake if you’re determined.”
The profound direction that the conversation had been edging towards had been carelessly obliterated, all but ripped to shreds by a radiant smile; the single-minded focus on the original issue lived on. “But. Uhm. If nobody’s called you then you’re just useless right now, right? What’s there to stress about? Or are you stressed because you’re useless? Thinking about how useless you are is pretty useless. You just gotta accept it, m’kay? Then everything will be a-okay.” And to top off the copious usage of the word ‘useless’ was a reassuring thumbs up.
“...Yeah, I guess that’s a good enough description. Still, you’d think that after a man retires, they’d be willing to leave him alone.” With a defeated shrug, Willard simply shook his head, a bemused smile dancing on his face. Of course, he knew better than that -- it took a kind author to allow someone like him to rest, and the world was thoroughly lacking in those, at least for the genre he’d been born into.
“That’s the question, isn’t it...? I know the way it works for me -- if I’m retired, that means I shouldn’t be here in the first place. There’s that Raven again; since I’m here, it means someone decided I’ve still got a use. Some sorry bastard has called me here to fulfill one duty or another...which means I can’t let my guard down.” Once again, the angel turned his gaze skyward, gazing into the grey soup of clouds which loomed above the cityscape. He had a searching expression on his face, as though he felt that if he looked hard enough, he’d be able to see the hand above the game board, ready to pick him up and place him somewhere else, signaling the end of his turn and the beginning of someone else’s.
“...Hah. You’ve sure got a detective’s logic, there. In another story, I bet you would’ve been the type to call someone like me...ah, well. I appreciate the effort, nevertheless. My name is Willard H. Wright -- you can call me Will, if you want.”