Sometimes, the absence of a stare can be as obvious as the stare itself. But the girl's shyness only amuses Angela. She once looked— or didn't look— in such a demure manner at the other, older Angel women she grew up surrounded by. Heven knows, she has looked at Sera in such a way more times than there are stars in the ever-stretching sky.

Angela sighs, to think of Sera. She misses her dearly, even though they have parted ways. It matters little to her, that the Lawspeaker declared hundreds of years to have passed in their home realms. What are hundreds of years, to an immortal? Angela has lost Sera to death once, and had conquered Hel to get her back. She would gladly do it again, if only to allow Sera her freedom once more, to adventure to her heart's desire.

The redhead goddess takes a deep breath, setting aside thoughts of her beloved, and instead re-centering herself in the present moment, in this pleasant small talk with an awkwardly not-staring girl.

"It is not the worst party I have ever been invited to. Even if I do not have any recollection of accepting the invitation."