He didn't suspect tonight would be any special. No big events, no big words, just a quiet sit down, doing whatever they felt like doing in each other's company. He did not, in any way, shape or form, prepare for something like this. And he does so like to be prepared.

So he stares, looking for something in the angel's face that might tell him this isn't what it sounds like. That it's maybe a joke, or something he's misinterpreting. Not that he wishes it would be - he doesn't think he does - does he? - No -, but in dread that be might be very seriously misreading what exactly is happening.

"You're...but we-the--Oh."