Nela floats belly-first through the air, chewing on a cosmic banana that never seems to run out. "I swear," she groans between bites, "if your mortal life was a book, I'd read it in the bath, under the covers, and during staff meetings."
Pip chuckles, wrapping both hands around a goblet of what can only be ambrosia milkshake, the kind that refills itself the moment his straw touches bottom. "It's weird," he says, turning the goblet slowly in his fingers. "I never thought I'd be telling stories about... well, me... to goddesses."
Bela, golden and radiant, reclines beside him with her chin propped on both hands, gauzy robes pooling around her like sunlight on water. "You're too modest, darling. You and Vuvela are everyone's new obsession. Even the archivist angels are gossiping."
