The angel sat at one of the booths, alone, dressed in clothes that looked to have been disposed of from a Salvation Army thrift store: a faded from red to brown checkered button down shirt; jeans with a knee missing; deck shoes; no socks. A cup of coffee steamed between its hands.

It looked up when the man entered. The newcomer shook the rain off his hat, and placed it on a peg by the door, followed by his equally damp coat. Then he made his way over to the booth and sat down.

Neither spoke a word for a solid minute.

"Well," the angel said at last. "I knew they would send someone, I just didn't know when. You were the last one I expected, Ridley."

Ridley nodded, "You and I both. But apparently I was closest. And available."

The angel raised an eyebrow. He rubbed the palms of his hands against the mug of coffee. "You live on the other side of the continent from here."

Ridley smiled, wiped a stray bit of water from his cheek, "Still the closest."

"You can't leave your home. It was one of the conditions of your—"

"Yes, well," Ridley replied, and plucked a menu from behind the napkin dispenser. "They want you back. They wanted to send someone they thought you would listen to. And I wanted a road trip. And some hash browns. Fair trade."

Ridley motioned for the waitress to come over. He ordered: the hash browns, an omelette, some dry white toast, sausage, and some coffee. "Hungry, aren't you, hon?" the woman asked.

Ridley smiled. "I don't get to eat out much."

With the woman gone, Ridley nodded to the angel's coffee. "You can't drink that." It was somewhere between curiosity and an accusation.

The angel smiled. "Yes, but I can feel the warmth well enough." The smile faded. "Do you really think I'm going to go back? After everything that's happened? You over all should know that that's simply not possible."

"I do."

"What I've given up is nothing compared to what you did, Ridley."

Ridley cleared his throat. His coffee arrived and he sipped from it. "This is true. But I'm not a good example. What I did is unique in all the kingdoms. And what you did, Zeruch, and what you apparently continue to do…is exceptionally rare."

Zeruch frowned. "That's a kind way of saying it's perverse."

Ridley shook his head. "No, I don't mean it that way. As you said, I'm not really in a position to judge anyone. Not anymore."

"It's not that rare anymore, either," Zeruch confided. "With God away, it's becoming harder and harder for the Throne to keep everyone focused. There's more than just me…I'm probably just the most…embarrassing to them."

Ridley thought for a moment. "Are you really doing what they say you're doing?"

Zeruch did not possess the physical ability to blush and probably might not have even if he did. "I am. I went to work for a short while in a club for a man named Patrick…"

Ridley coughed. "He's no man, but go on…"

"But now I'm…seeking clients by myself. They…like someone who can be…whoever they want me to be."

"And you enjoy this?"

Zeruch smiled. "How could I not? It's such a refreshing change to simply…lose control."

Ridley sipped from his coffee. "Some would argue that when you still were in the Throne's employ you weren't exactly in control then either."

Zeruch shook his head. "Those some would be wrong. You know what it was like. It's easy to go along when everyone's with you, shoulder to shoulder. But everything fades eventually. One day you realize there's no one to your left or right anymore and you suddenly feel very foolish." He ran a hand over the mug, through the fading warmth within. "Very foolish indeed."

At that point, Ridley's food arrived. He took his fork and dived into the hash browns with considerable abandon.

"So," Zeruch asked finally, "are you going to try to force me to return?"

Ridley looked up and frowned. He swallowed. "Whyever would I do that? And honestly, frankly, how would I do that?"

Zeruch nodded. Then after a moment, "What are you going to tell them?"

"That you're happy doing what you're doing. Happy enough, anyway. And I would advise the Throne to just leave you alone. The more fuss they raise, the more attention they'll call to this perceived embarassment you cause them."

Zeruch nodded again. "Thank you, Ridley."

Ridley smiled and washed down some eggs with his coffee. "Thank you," he said. "I've been dying for some food I didn't have to prepare myself."

The waitress came and refreshed Zeruch's coffee. The angel warmed his hands with it. He watched Ridley eat in silence.

"Have I done right?" the angel asked.

Ridley considered this through two more bites of toast. "Have any of us? Once I would have said God would decide. But now it's just us. We have to decide for ourselves."

Zeruch nodded. "I wish I could say I missed how it used to be."

Ridley motioned for the waitress and gestured with his empty mug. "I know what you mean. Believe me, I do."