Grey yawned.
It wasn't even a fake one this time. Kronos, strongest God this, Prometheus failed that, ancient war, impossible path—none of it carried the weight the angel lady seemed to think it should.
A few weeks ago, Gods were stories written down by people who had been dead for thousands of years, and now she expected Grey to hear that one of those stories could kill him and suddenly start pissing himself.
Maybe it would hit him eventually.
Uh, probably not.
"Yeah, I'm not waiting until the end of Arc Three to fix my shit," Grey said, scratching the side of his neck. "So where do I go find him right now?"
The angel lady didn't say a single word. She didn't even have any to speak.
Grey waited patiently.
