[ His head snaps to the sky snatching the prayer from thin air before his wings beat down slicing through space and time to reach him before the sound of his name fades. The sound of wings herald his arrival and the angel of Thursday finds himself facing the young Nephilim with only a few feet separating them. ]
Jack. Tell me everything.
[ His voice, normally deep and neutral, cuts with a sharpness fueled by simmering anger impossible for the angel to detach himself from. ]
no subject
Jack. Tell me everything.
[ His voice, normally deep and neutral, cuts with a sharpness fueled by simmering anger impossible for the angel to detach himself from. ]